Wonder

SMALLPOX WORSHIPING SON OF SATAN

Detention sucked. Detention with Harris sucked worse. After Stiles's genius plan to key a random guys car and sit by and watch as Scott took the blame, everything had gone straight to hell. While Ariel might snicker of her brother tripped or fell into a puddle, seeing him get the shit beaten out of him by a group of argyle wearing nincompoops wasn't amusing. At least to her- Stiles seemed to have quite enjoyed it. After Ariel had jumped in and walloped the hell out of his attackers, Scott had yet to recover when they had been hit by their worst enemy yet.

Adrian Harris.

Ariel drummed her fingers almost pathologically against the lab table, her eyesight locked on her day of a teacher. He was the spawn of the Devil, she decided. He had been sent up from the fiery pits of hell, urged by his father/Satan himself to make the lives of teenagers miserable. Hers in particular. Anyone with two eyes and a semi functioning brain could see that Harris had it out for Ariel McCall since she stepped foot in his class in ninth grade and proudly stated she hated cells.

Apparently, Adrian Harris really loved cells.

She found out later he had written his masters thesis solely on the mitochondria of a specific strand of cells found in diseased children. She had accidentally offended his deepest passions twice that day- by hating cells and by simply being a non diseased child.

She bet he had a shrine to smallpox in his bedroom. If diseased children brought him joy, then he must worship the stuff.

"Ariel." She broke her gaze from the smallpox worshipping spawn of Satan and turned to the pale boy beside her. "You've kinda got a pathological serial murderer look about you right now." Stiles whispered.  "Stop looking at him like that."

"Can't help it." She muttered. "The real me comes out around that aardvark." 

Stiles was barely able to register her somewhat worrying reply before a loud slam sounded through the room. Scott, who had been draped over the table a few feet away nodding off to sleep, jolted awake with a yelp.

"In case the many, many hours we've spent together hasn't got it through your dense, over-sized heads- NO TALKING!" Harris had slammed book shut and was glowering at the three with an expression that could only be described as pure hatred.

"What if the buildings on fire?" Ariel questioned cheekily.

"No."

"What if there's an earthquake?"

"No."

"What if the earth opened up and your father pulled us all down to hell?"

"No."

"What is Stiles choked to death on a
eraser?"

"No."

"What if there's a monster behind you and we have to warn-"

"NO. TALKING." Harris exploded, jumping out of his seat. "THERE WILL BE NO TALKING EVER!"

"Uh, Mr. Harris?" The neighboring teacher, a kind old man named Mr. Hoppenstead who taught environmental science, stuck his head in the class room. "Is everything okay in here?"

"Everything's perfectly fine, Thomas." The chemistry teacher sat back down and rubbed his forehead. "Just unruly juveniles in detention." Mr Hoppenestead looked over at the three, who sent him grins and waves. With a little smirk and a wink towards them, he turned back to Mr Harris.

"How about I take these three into my room and finish the detention there?" He offered kindly. "You sound like an early night may help."

"There's only a few minutes left, Thomas, that won't be necessary." Mr. Harris narrowed his eyes at the other teacher. "Thank you, though." He sounded as if he had no idea why Mr Hoppenstead was being so kind to him. It was justified paranoia, Ariel noted. Hoppy would have just let them go, as he and the older McCall were practically best friends. He was the leader of the only club she'd even joined and they had bonded to the hip.

With a shrug at her and a nod at Harris, Mr. Hopp receded back into his room.

Ariel sat in silence for a few more minutes as Stiles and Scott whispered lowly. Harris looked back down at his book but the feeling of eyes burning into his head made him look up. Ariel McCall was staring at him, her eyes narrowed and a sneer on her face. He shook it off, looking down at his book again.

The nagging feeling of her eyes on him got his attention again. She was looking at him with such hatred even Harris shuddered.

He looked away, trying his hardest to focus on the book on smallpox in his hands. The feeling only grew stronger and he couldn't help but meet her eyes. She grinned eerily, her eyes flashing orange for a split second.

Harris stood up quickly, breaking eye contact with her. Hands shaking, he shut his book and tried to slow down his thumping, terrified heart. With one last glance at the smug Ariel McCall, he sighed.

"All right, get out."

~

After a day of painful heels, lacrosse balls and detention, Ariel McCall really was not feeling the line at Stella's. Her favorite coffee shop had apparently been discovered since the death of coffee Todd and the owners were loving it. There were signs hanging from the windows emblazoned with RIP messages and little memorials to Todd everywhere. Amateur crime fighters were holed up with jumbo coffees, going over notes and comparing strategies. It was slightly horrifying, that so many people were morbidly obsessed with the death of a poor boy with horrid pick up lines.

Ariel elbowed past a girl wearing an outfit straight out of Nancy Drew, ignoring the irritated huff and shoving her way up to the counter. A new barista was scrambling around, her brown hair sticking up in all directions and a coffee stain on her shirt.

After ordering her extra extra large coffee with three creams and two sugars and receiving a extra extra large coffee with no cream and five sugars, Ariel was about ready to throw herself off the Eiffel Tower.

And it only got worse. On her way out of the crowded shop, she slammed smack dab into someone.

"Shit!" The coffee slipped from her hands, splattering on the concrete below her. "Can't you watch where you're going, you- oh."

"Hello, Ariel." Peter wasn't smiling. After not seeing him in almost a week,  she expected a happy feeling. Instead she was greeted with the sinking feeling of guilt. Peter was obviously hurt by her actions, the guarded expression on his face making it evident.

"Hi... Peter." She cringed at how awkward she sounded.

"Fancy seeing you here again." His tone was expressionless, his eyes hard.

"Uh yeah. Just getting some coffee." Ariel looked down at her fallen coffee, stepping out of the growing puddle of liquid.

"So why haven't you answered my texts?" It was a simple, yet louder question that made her want to cry. 

'Because my mate is some crazy ass werewolf that will rip your head off if you so much as talk to me.'

"Oh I've just been super busy." Ariel scratched the back of her head, choosing to go with a safe answer and opting out of the fucked up supernatural business.

"Is there someone else?" Peter was serious, his tone clipped.

"Wha-" Ariel choked on air. "Of course not, I'm just-" the vibration of her phone cut her off.

"Ariel, would you like to get dinner then?" Her phone chimed again.

"Oh yeah sure-" Ariel looked down to see a frantic message from stiles.

Where are you?
I'm picking you up, we need to go meet Scott
Derek thinks he found the alpha
Ariel!! Answer!!!!

"Actually..." Ariel muttered. Her heart broke as she looked up and saw Peters face. He looked pained, angered and all the expressions that brought her pain to see. His blue eyes were clouded, his knuckles clenched.  "Can I take you up on that later?"

"I-"

"It was nice to see you again, Peter!" Ariel cringed, shoving her phone into her pants and internally cursing that damn alpha. "Sorry!"

And with that, she was gone and Peter was left a whirl of anger.