Full Moon //Derek Hale//

Thirty-Three

It was a late night shopping trip with Lydia and Allison, I didn't know that Lydia was going to drive to the school though. As soon as she started to step towards the school, she stopped.

"I'm calling Stiles." She stated before pulling her phone out of her pocket.

"Why?" Allison asked, glancing around.

"It's like the night at the pool." Lydia answered, staring at me.

A few minutes later, Scott and Stiles both pulled up.

"Where is she?" I heard Stiles ask, looking around before I called him over.

"Lydia?" Stiles ran up to us with Scott in tow as we ran to them.

"It's the same thing. Same thing as the pool. I got into the car heading somewhere totally different, and ended up here." She went quiet for a second, pulling her arms around herself before shrugging. "And you told me to call you if there's a dead body."

"You found a dead body?"

"Not yet." I piped up.

"Not yet? What do you mean, 'not yet?' Lydia, you're supposed to call us after you find the dead body."

"Oh, no, I'm not doing that again. You find the dead body from now on." I almost wanted to laugh at the sass between the two.

"How are we supposed to find the dead body? You're always the one finding the dead body."

I noticed Scott tilt his head in confusion as he subtly sniffed the air. I mimicked and got a whiff of fresh blood, making my own run cold as I turned around. I took a few steps over to get a clear look and clear enough there was a dead body perched up on the Beacon Hills High School sign.

"Guys." Scott and I both said, glancing at each other. "We found the dead body."

"Oh, God, I gotta call my dad." Stiles fumbled for his phone and I spun away not able to handle it anymore.

__

English class. One of my favorites, no sarcasm there. People think I'm weird for liking English class but that's because it has to do with two of my favorite things; writing and reading.

I watched as Mrs. Blake walked down the aisles, her hands clasped together in front of her as she taught and looked over our shoulders. I had my pen in my hand, writing down the notes as she went along with her lesson.

"Idioms, analogies, metaphors, and similes, all tools the writer uses to tell their story." Suddenly, she stopped between mine and Lydia's desks. I peered over and noticed Lydia drawing a tree. "Lydia, I wasn't aware you had so many hidden talents." Mrs. Blake complimented.

"You and every guy I've ever dated." Lydia nonchalantly replied, smirking up at the teacher. Mrs. Blake shook her head in disbelief and disgust.

"Oh, um, well, that was an idiom, by the way." She went back to her lesson, walking away from Lydia, trying to rid the disgust present in her tone. "Idioms are something of a secret to the people who know the language or the culture. They're phrases that only make sense if you know the key words." She stared at me before looking at Stiles.

"Saying 'jump the gun' is meaningful only if you know about the starting gun in a race, or a phrase like 'seeing the whole board."

"Like chess." Stiles mumbled to himself, but Mrs. Blake heard.

"That's right, Stiles." She smiled. "Do you play?"

"UH, no. My father does." He flicked his pen across his hand while he looked up at her.