Primal » Isaac Lahey

Chapter O2.

It wasn't until the end of the school day that I met up with Allison. When I asked her if she wanted to join the search party with me, she said she couldn't because she was attending the funeral of her deceased Aunt Kate. The story of Kate Argent was honestly unbelievable, but it fits with the dark side of Beacon Hills.

I stood beside Allison at her locker between periods. As she opened her door and pulled out a simple black dress that she told me was for the funeral later that day. I pointed out a small slip of paper stuck between the vents of her locker. Gingerly, she untucked the note and read it. Scrawled across the small sheet of white paper, Because I Love You was written. I could only guess it was from her boyfriend Scott McCall.

"That is so cute Allison," I gush as I look over her shoulder at the note.

Mr. Argent didn't approve of the relationship his daughter had with Scott McCall. I knew of Scott. We've been in the same school since we were kids, but we were never friends, only acquaintances. It wasn't until after winter break that the name Scott McCall became a common topic throughout the school. This year, McCall found himself on the first line for the lacrosse team. He was a player last season, but you could definitely say that he warmed the bench for the seasons M.V.P. Jackson Whittlemore.

I never really talked to Scott McCall, or his quirky best friend Stiles Stilinski, before this year, but it seems that the two have been popping up more than I would have expected, but I didn't mind. The boys were nice and as far as I knew, Scott seemed like an acceptable boyfriend for Allison. He was easy-going, charming, and made Allison happy, not to mention he wasn't ugly, so I don't see why her father didn't approve of their relationship.

Allison smiled cheekily and look to the ground embarrassed. We couldn't say much about it, the relationship between the two was a secret she withheld from her disapproving family members.

Quietly, she whispered, "I know," before precariously placing the love note in her backpack. She was about to leave since the funeral started in an hour, but before she could a voice spoke up from beside her.

"Nice dress," the voice spoke from a locker a few down from hers. If I was correct, his name was something simple. Perhaps it was Zach or Mark. It was either one of those I think. Or maybe it was Matt.

In his hand, he was holding one of those advanced looking cameras, easily a few hundred dollars. Allison smiled friendly at him before commenting, "Nice camera."

The two smiled at each other before I overheard the conversion of two girls behind us.

"Not her sister, her aunt. The one who murdered all those people." The first girl tried to whisper to the other. I glanced over at Allison and noticed she was listening to.

"You mean the crazy bitch who killed all those people?" the other girl asked.

She nodded, "Yeah, the fire, all those animal attacks - it was her aunt."

The two spoke as if Allison wasn't standing only a few feet away from them. Their attempt at a hushed tone was a fail. "Are you kidding?" she started. "I sit next to her in English."

The girl rolled her eyes, "Find a new seat."

I scoffed loudly. The two girls saw me and quickly shut their lockers and left the hall. We all knew Allison's aunt was a "crazy bitch", but at least have some respect to not say it out loud. Especially when your standing near her niece, on the day of her funeral.

Six years ago, one of the most prominent families in town, the Hale's, house burned down. No one escaped unharmed, in fact, most everyone died in the fire. At the time, the police report stated that it was an accidental electrical fire. It wasn't until just recently that the truth surfaced. With the frequent amount of animal attacks and half a dead body found in the old yard, one of the only Hale survivors, Derek Hale, was accused of the murder of not only the animal attacks but the death of his own family. Later on, the police decided Derek was innocent, and claimed that the house fire wasn't electrical, but an act of arson.