North Starr

14

At school the next morning, Melanie walked between Lydia and Allison. Allison looked at Lydia. "You really don't remember anything?"

Lydia shook her head. "They call it a fugue state, which is basically a way of saying "We have no idea why you can't remember running through the woods naked for two days." But personally, I don't care. I lost nine pounds."

Melanie let out a small sigh and asked, "You ready for this? I'm glad to hear about the nine pounds, Lydia."

Lydia looked at Allison. "Please. It's not like my aunt's a serial killer."

They entered the school and everyone turned to look at them, zoning in on Lydia with a cold silence. Allison offered them a smile. "Maybe it's the nine pounds."

Melanie had time before class, so she decided to head out to the lacrosse field.

Scott and Stiles were acting more weirder than usual. Normally, she'd ignore it, but she was worried, and frankly, curious. Scott knocked a guy down and Melanie's eyes widened as Coach cried, "Usually the goalie stays somewhere within the vicinity of the actual goal."

"Yes, Coach," Scott answered, making his way back to the goal.

"Let's try that again."

Scott repeated his previous action and Coach yelled, "McCall! The position's goalkeeper. Not goal abandoner."

"Sorry, Coach."

"Let's go!"

Scott, once again, did the same thing. Coach turned to Stiles and noticed Melanie. "Stilinski, Hale, what the hell is wrong with your friend?"

Stiles looked out at the field at Scott. "Uh, he's failing two classes. He's a little socially awkward and if you look close enough, his jawline's kind of even."

Coach listened to Stiles' words and frowned. "That's interesting. Let's fire it up."

Coach's face was turning red in frustration. "McCall! You come out of that goal one more time and you'll be doing suicide runs till you die. It'll be the first suicide run that actually ends in a suicide. Got it?"

"Yes, Coach," Scott said.

Jackson stepped to the sidelines. "Uh, Coach, my shoulder's hurting. I'm gonna -- I'm gonna sit this one out."

The new werewolf was none other than Isaac Lahey. He glanced between Melanie, Scott and Stiles. "Don't tell them. Please don't tell them."

"His father's dead," Scott told them. "They think he was murdered."

Sheriff Stilinski made his way over to them and placed a hand on Isaac's shoulder. "Come on."

Melanie's brow furrowed. "Are they saying he's a suspect?"

Scott glanced at her and shrugged. "I'm not sure, why?"

"Because they can lock him in a holding cell for 24 hours," Stiles replied.

"Like, overnight?"

Stiles nodded at his friend. "During the full moon."

"How good are the holding cells at holding people exactly?"

Melanie shrugged. "People, good; usually. Werewolves, probably not so good."

Scott's eyes widened slightly. "Stiles, Melanie, remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?"

"Yeah," Stiles and Melanie stated.

"He does," Scott said, glancing at Isaac.

While walking through the halls, Scott asked, "Why would Derek choose Isaac?"