The Wild Side | Stiles Stilinski | One

29 - Lessons In Lycanthropy

Trick or treating with Scott and Stiles was amazing. We walked around for hours, trying to cover as much of residential Beacon Hills as was physically possible. We got a lot of strange looks, but just as many compliments from passersby and startled adults at their doors. I even elicited a scream or two from wandering elementary school kids. It was a bit sadistic, and I felt bad for the parents who had to deal with children sobbing about the monsters roaming the streets, but it made me a little bit proud too. Crying children were an assurance that our costumes did justice to our Hollywood counterparts.

As we'd planned, we finally came to a stop in front of the Argents' house. Scott looked up at it in longing, but he disguised it behind a smile as I said goodbye. I left the boys behind on the curb and trotted up the house, ringing the doorbell and waiting patiently to be let in.

"Trick or treat!" I cheered when the door swung open.

Mr. Argent gave a start, surprised to find a teen zombie outside his door instead of a hoard of seven-year-olds. He shook his head, placing the candy bowl aside and breaking into a smirk.

"Tell me, Scarlett, do you like Halloween?"

"Just a bit," I replied, trying to suppress a giggle.

He smiled and stepped aside, sweeping his hand toward the stairs. "Allison's in her room, and I'm sure my wife would appreciate it if you could try not to uh, ooze on the floor."

"Will do, Mr. Argent."

I treaded precariously up the steps, easing my way over to Allison's bedroom door. I considered knocking, then decided I'd better not since I'd probably get paint all over the door.

"Hey, Allison?" I called. "It's Scarlett."

"Oh, hey!" she called back, and there was a rustle inside as she got up to open the door. "I didn't hear you come—oh my God!"

As soon as the door opened, I leapt forward, and Allison jumped back with a scream. I laughed at her, waving a hand and entering the room without invitation. She glowered at me, one hand still clutching her chest.

"What the hell, Scarlett?!"

"What?" I asked innocently. "I'm a zombie."

"Yeah, I can see that. God, is Lydia seriously letting you wear that to the party?"

"No, of course not. Well, not that she would've had room to argue if I said I was. But no, I'm changing. Do you have the stuff?"

"If by 'the stuff' you mean the mysterious duffle bag you left at my front door at eight thirty in the morning, then yeah, I have the stuff."

She shook her head at me and walked over to her closet to pull out the large, black bag I had dropped off earlier that day. She tossed it on the bed, where it landed with a heavy thump. I frowned when I saw it was already open.

"You already looked inside?"

"I didn't," she promised, raising a hand, "but dad did. He wanted to check it wasn't like, a bomb or a decapitated head."

"But I left a note!"

"Yeah, well...after we got locked in the school, he didn't want to take any chances."

"Right..." I pouted down at the open bag. Not my most tactful plan. "Well. Neither of us is gonna be able to use any of this until I'm human again, which is why I have to ask for the embarrassing favor of using your bathroom."

"Yeah," she laughed, her eyes scanning my costume and cataloguing the amount of paint I was covered in. "You definitely need to shower. Come on."

She picked up the duffle bag again and led the way down the hall to the bathroom, graciously showing me how to work the faucet and lending me a pile of car towels—and a hunk of steel wool to scrub my decay out of the bathtub.