Sparks, Flowers and Plaid Shirts (Book Two in the 'Plaid Shirts' series)

The Silent Witness - (Boyd POV)

The scene came together momentarily to show Stiles scrambling desperately in what seamed to be a bus  and I was preparing to go though this memory, whom ever it involved when the connection that caused movement in these memories pulled tightly in the pit of my stomach and the colours that had swirled together to form the image of the memory all seamed to elongate as if we where traveling at light speed before coming to a sudden, almost painful halting stop. I stumbled forward slightly and actually had to catch Erica before she float-face planted. Everyone shook themselves out of the strange feeling that the transport caused and Cora began to grumble something as a someone began walking down the hall we where standing in.

"Where are we?", Allison questioned causing everyone to look around as the tall brunette woman in clicking heals walked towards us, the clicking of her cherry red heals echoing as they went. "We are in Beacon Hills Elementary School, I think, that looks like Mrs Ferrison. She was one of the receptionists", Scott supplies for those who didn't attend. "She was Miss Jenson when I was there, time was good to her", Peter smirked as the woman came to a stop at the class room to our right and took a deep breathe before straightening her blazer. She tapped on the door of the classroom sharply and open the door before stepping into the now quiet class.

The woman walked over to the teacher and started to have a mumbled conversation with the other woman while we stepped into the room. There sat a room filled with kids. Kids who all happened to share the exact DNA make up of the majority of the pack. I was sitting in one of the seats in the middle quietly looking outside, Erica was in the desk next to me having a whisper conversation with the girl in the next to her. Isaac was staring at Scott with a hero-worpishing look in his eyes and if the boy already had a crush on Scott when he was eight then it is not surprising how cuddly he acts now. The crooked jawed boy had his head bent to the side in a furious discussion with Jackson who was in the row behind him and appeared to be throwing pieces of screwed up paper onto Stiles' head. Stiles who was sitting next to Scott his head bent over a piece of paper he was scribbling on with his jaw set, obviously trying to ignore Jackson. Lydia sat farther away from the rest of the children versions of the pack and had a nail file out, even at the age of eight the girl was slightly terrifying.

Beside me Erica squealed and floated over to the tiny me, "Babe. Look at us, we are sooooo cute! Imagine what our babies will look like", she began to coo over the smaller me who had far too much baby fat and was still blinking owlishly out the window with too big eyes. "Erica, not the time for that conversation" I remind her. She pouts but still looks like she is holding back a squeal before the teacher talks, "Stiles, will you go with Mrs Ferrison please". Stiles makes a confused face at the teacher but just replies with, "Sure" and starts getting up. "Stiles honey, pack up your backpack and bring it with you, you probably won't be coming back to class today", Mrs Ferrison says and the majority of the class let out an 'oooooooh' sound only to have the teacher scold them, "Quiet, Stiles on you go, and everyone else we are going back to finishing up this part of the lesson before lunch". The teacher turns back to board where there is a line of math work. Stiles finishes packing his bag and says bye to Scott before following Mrs Ferrison out of the classroom and heading down the hall.

There is that stretched out feeling, not like the change of a memory but a change of time within a memory about a person and we come together again following a mini-me through the halls of the school. I am kind of tiptoeing and trying be all quiet while taking bites out of a PB&J sandwich in my left hand. Erica coos at me and the rest laugh shaking their head at me. Mini me comes to the end of the hall and stops when he hears voices, the look of terror on his faces shows that he really really shouldn't be wondering round the school on his own. "Boyd, what where you doing?", Derek asks, one of his eyebrows raised in question. I feel a dark blush come to my cheeks and mummer out, "I used to sneak off the music room at lunch break and listen to the older kids in the orchestra play, I didn't like being in the canteen or on the playground much". Mini me peeks around the corner after very slowly taking a bite of sandwich and we walk around slightly to see what scene is going on around the corner.