Transformed (Incomplete)

Pack Mentality, Part IV

"But dreams aren't memories," Stiles is saying as we sit down at lunch. Stiles and I sit on one side of the table and Scott sits on the other. I'm burning to tell them about my discovery, yet unsure of how just yet. I know I need to, but how exactly do I start a conversation about it? Should I just casually mention "oh by the way, I'm psychic"? Or should it start out seriously? Am I capable of doing anything seriously?
"Then, it wasn't a dream," Scott says, interrupting my thoughts. "Something happened last night and I can't remember what."
"Maybe you're psychic, like me," I blurt. I look between Stiles and Scott with wide eyes. So, we're going for "casually mentioning." Well, there, I said it. Now, all that's left is to explain. I can do that.
"You're not psychic," Scott shakes his head.
"Yes, I am," I argue.
"What are you talking about, Mer?" Stiles asks.
"You can't be psychic," Scott says. "Psychics aren't real."
I give him a look that could kill. This is my confession and he's doubting me?
"Says the werewolf," I snap, a little irritably. Scott shuts up and I turn to Stiles. Guess I'm only telling him about my abilities. "So I keep getting these visions ..." I start, still not sure how to tell them. "Like, sometimes they're just flashes of vision, but sometimes they're little, I don't know .... snippets of stuff."
I pause to look back at Scott and then Stiles. They both look at me to continue. Now that my brother's finally shut up so I can explain, I still can't find the words.
"Uh, the first one I saw was the night you two went looking for the body and Scott got bit," I offer. "I saw police cars and dogs and the cops and they were looking somewhere dark with flashlights. Then you -" I point my fork at Stiles. "Showed up and told us about the search."
"You've known for that long?" Scott asks. I roll my eyes at him. Look who believes me now.
"No, I didn't - I didn't put two and two together then," I tell him. "I thought I was just tired. Then, that same night, just as I was going to sleep, I saw these headlights swerving. And I mean, that one never came true, but I just -"
"I almost got hit by a car that night," Scott butts in.
"What?" I drop my fork onto my tray.
"Yeah, I came running out of the woods after I got bit and a car almost hit me, but it swerved just in time," Scott nods. I stare at him for a second, my entire body in shock.
"So, then that one came true, too," I say quietly. I wait a moment and pick up my fork before starting again. "And then the day Jackson got hurt, I saw someone on the ground holding their arm before you -" I point my fork at Scott this time. "Injured him. Then, I saw Jackson lying on the ground in the same exact way. That was the second vision I knew came true. Then, I saw a vision of your dad -" I look to Stiles, too lazy to point my fork this time. "Talking to someone, just before you made Scott eavesdrop in to hear about the curfew."
I was realizing things I had never realized before as I was telling this story.
"I hadn't put that one together yet, either," I shrug sheepishly. I've been a little distracted with Scott's problems. "Then, I saw the bite marks on Derek's sister's body before Scott even came out of the morgue with the news, and when Stiles kept the wolfsbane in the Jeep and you freaked out and left - after that, I saw you as a werewolf creeping around on a roof and I saw Allison looking at pictures of something and - and you went to Allison, didn't you?"
"Yes," Scott looks down at his food. I bite my lip, take a drink of water, and continue.
"And then just last night, I saw a broken mirror," I say, ending with the last vision.
"And I broke a mirror in the boys' locker room," Scott buries his face in his hands.
"I figured it out last night," I say, looking up to see Stiles' reaction. He'd been awfully quiet this whole time, especially for Stiles. Stiles always had something to say. He was staring at me, awestruck and looking as completely dumbfounded as I had felt. "I haven't seen anything since then. But after I figured it out ..."
I train off, not sure I should tell them about Jackson. Maybe Jackson doesn't know Scott's the werewolf on the lacrosse team, but if I tell Scott and he starts acting weird, Jackson might put two and two together.
"What? Emerson, what?" Stiles speaks up.
"I saw - like with my eyes, not a vision - Jackson come out onto the field and pick up Scott's glove," I say. I turn and narrow my eyes at Scott. "Guess somebody didn't hold it together as well as we had thought. They had claw holes in the fingers and Jackson saw them."
"Oh my god ..." Scott mutters.
"No, just wait," I talk again. "It gets better. It gets so much better. Derek saw him."
"Derek saw him?" Scott explodes. People look at us weird and I glance down at my food.
"I left after Derek showed up," I admit.
"So, you're psychic, Jackson knows about werewolves, and Derek is going to kill us," Stiles sums up. I drop my fork, suddenly not hungry anymore.
"I guess your teacher isn't really going to want to teach you," I give Scott a tiny, sick smile. Stiles turns to my brother suddenly.
"What makes you even think Derek has all the answers?" he asks.
"Because during the full moon, he wasn't changed," Scott replies. "He was in total control. I was running around in the middle of the night last night, attacking some totally innocent guy."
"You don't know that," Stiles counters.
"I don't not know it," Scott says. "I can't go out with Allison. I have to cancel."
"No, you're not cancelling," Stiles says. "You can't just cancel your entire life."
"Weren't you the one telling him before he can't see Allison?" I call Stiles out on his hypocritical advice.
"That was before," Stiles says.
"Before what?" my brother demands.
"Before we knew how good you were at controlling it," Stiles answers.
"I'm not that -" Scott starts.
"And before we knew Emerson was psychic," Stiles continues, plowing right over Scott.
"I can't control when it happens," I protest. "And sometimes, the vision happens seconds after. It's not going to be much help."
"You'll both learn how to control your new abilities," Stiles assures us. "We'll figure it out."
"Figure what out?" Lydia Martin asks, sitting down next to Stiles. My best friend makes a weird, throaty noise.
"Uh, just homework," Scott lies.
"Yeah," Stiles throws in. Stiles leans into me and Scott. "Why is she sitting with us?"
"You know she's sitting right there," I say as Scott makes his I-have-no-idea face. Allison sits on the other side of Scott.
"Thanks," she says. I watch as Danny sits next to Stiles and a girl I don't know sits on the other side of me. People fill in all around us. It feels like an invasion.
"What's happening?" I whisper in Stiles' ear. Stiles turns, smiling at Danny awkwardly.
"No idea," he says without moving his lips.
"Get up," Jackson says, walking up to a curly-haired kid at the end of our table.
"How come you never ask Danny to get up?" the kid protests.
"Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot," Danny replies. I roll my eyes as the kid gets up and Jackson takes his spot. I stare at him, looking for any sign of what could've happened last night with Derek. Although, it's not like he wrote across his forehead Emerson - this, this, and this happened last night.
"What are you staring at?" Jackson demands, staring back at me.
"Not sure yet," I retort. "Stuck between jerk and idiot. Actually, I'm thinking a hybrid."
Stiles snorts, spewing milk into his hand, and Jackson rolls his eyes. I actually didn't think it was that funny. I just needed something insulting to say.
"So, I hear they're saying it's some kind of animal attack," Danny says. "Probably a cougar."
"I heard mountain lion," Jackson inputs.
"A cougar is a mountain lion," Lydia declares. Jackson raises an eyebrow. "Isn't it?" Lydia asks, pretending to be stupid again. I sigh, but Lydia's dumb act is not one of my problems right now.
"Who cares?" Jackson asks. "The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway."
"Actually, I just found out who it is," Stiles says as I try to figure out what the hell a tweaker is. Whatever it is, I'm sure Jackson's one, too. "Check it out."
Stiles tilts the phone towards us.
"The Sheriff's Department won't speculate on details of the incident, but confirmed the victim, Garrison Meyers, did survive the attack," a voice reports from the tiny speaker. "Meyers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition."
"I - I - I - I know this guy," Scott stammers out.
"You do?" the girl next to me asks. I look over at her, thinking to myself, Who on earth are you?
"Yeah, when me and Emerson used to take the bus back when we lived with our dad," Scott says. I bristle at the mention of our dad, resisting the urge to stab my fork into the table. "He was the driver."
I try to rack my brain for any memory of Garrison Meyers, but come up empty-handed.
"Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please?" Lydia asks and for once, I agree with her. "Like, oh, where are we going tomorrow night?"
Lydia turns to Allison and Scott, who both look over in shock.
"You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?" Lydia asks.
"Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do," Allison says, looking at Scott.
"Well, I am not sitting home again watching lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun," Lydia continues.
"Hanging out?" Scott turns to Allison. Stiles and I both smirk at each other. "Like the four of us? Do you wanna hang out, like us and them?"
"Yeah, I guess," Allison says. "Sounds fun."
"You know what else sounds fun?" Jackson asks, reaching for his fork. "Stabbing myself in the face with this fork."
I resist the urge to offer to do it for him. Lydia gasps happily.
"How about bowling?" she asks, looking to Jackson. "You love to bowl."
"Yeah, with actual competition," Jackson sneers.
"How do you know we're not 'actual competition'?" Allison asks, leaning around Scott to stare at Jackson. She looks at Scott. "You can bowl, right?"
"Sort of," Scott says at the same time Stiles and I shake our heads at each other.
"Is it sort of? Or yes?" Jackson asks, leaning forward.
"Yes," Scott answers loudly. "In fact, I'm a great bowler."
I slap my hand onto my forehead and Stiles looks at me, smirking.