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The lunch hall buzzed with crowded teens engrossed in their meals or chatting about their daily lives.
Allison munched her way through a PB&J sandwich while Lydia, sitting across from her, picked at her salad with a bored expression.
Bowling hadn't been as fun as Lydia hoped, and Jackson's stamina had disappointed her. At least Scott getting dumped seemed like a silver lining, but Allison's mood had soured the entire night.
As they ate, two boys entered the cafeteria, casually glancing over at Allison and Lydia.
Lydia raised her eyebrows as she noticed Scott with an oddly natural smile but a slumped posture. He seemed content but not entirely happy or sad enough, which irritated Lydia for some reason.
"Weird." Lydia muttered, following Allison's gaze, but it wasn't focused on Scott; it was on the smirking guy beside him.
"Well, well, well." Lydia teased with a cheeky grin. "Talk about playing the field."
"W-What?" Allison snapped back, panicked.
"I never knew you'd be such a player, Argent, going after his best friend right after dumping him." Lydia cheered. "I salute you."
"Shut up, I was not looking at Stiles." Allison blushed, shaking her head.
Lydia scoffed. "Yes, you were."
"No." Allison insisted.
"Yeah, you did."
"No, I was not."
"You can't keep denying what's right in front of you, Allison." Lydia spelled out. "You like the guy."
Finally, Allison had enough of the teasing. "All right, fine. I like Stiles, so what?"
"So what?!" Lydia mimicked in a loud whisper. "Sweetie, you can't let guys like him stay on the market for long. There are always girls eyeing guys like him."
"What do you want me to do?" Allison slumped back in her seat. "When I first moved here, I had a plan: no boyfriends until college because I moved too much. But then I met him, and he's different. Stiles is funny, quirky, and somehow I think he understands me more than Scott, even though I've spent considerably less time with him."
Lydia pondered for a moment before reaching a conclusion. "But he's Scott's best friend."
Allison sighed with mental exhaustion as she leaned against the table. "Yes, so I'm just going to sleep on it until it fades."
Lydia mused for a moment, seeing her friend's frustration. Her devil's advocate side seemed to awaken.
"You want my advice on it?" She asked, concocting a dramatic plan.
Allison glanced up half-heartedly, meeting Lydia's grinning face.
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Chicken salads might not be the epitome of a balanced diet, but they certainly made me feel balanced while gobbling them up.
There's something different about eating food you made yourself. It's not new to me; I've always had to make my own lunch.
Anyway, Scott still seemed down, even after my pep talk. I don't know how that didn't work. From my perspective, it was solid—not Optimus Prime level, but definitely more than Independence Day.
"Man, you can slow down." Scott grumbled. "Nobody's going to snatch it from you."
"Like hell they could, even if they tried." I smirked. "But seriously, Scott, you're missing out on my best dish yet."
"For the tenth time, no." Scott rejected. "Or do you want it in Spanish? No."
I smirked. I guess I did a good job at cheering him up. "Fine, but it was your choice."
Just as I was about to finish my lunch, I saw something—or rather, someone—I didn't expect on school premises.
"What the fuck?" I muttered, dropping the last spoonful of my salad in shock.
"What?" Scott asked, blinking.
I didn't respond, just pointing to the entrance of the cafeteria.
"Shit." Scott cursed as he saw Derek leaning against the entrance, his eyes fixed on us.
"What the hell is he doing here?!" Scott asked me in a loud whisper.
"Like fuck I know." I grumbled, looking at the salad on the ground as I stood up. "You stay here; it'd be too weird if both of us left urgently after seeing a weird, edgy creep dude in the corridor."
Scott nodded in agreement, his eyes still darting at Derek, who moved back into the corridor as he saw me walk toward him.
As I entered the hallway, my eyes immediately went to the lockers. Derek was leaning against them, struggling to stand properly, his face pale as a ghost.
"What are you doing here?!" I demanded.
"I was shot." He replied between gasping breaths.
"You're not looking so good." I observed, noticing the red stains on his pants. "Why aren't you healing?"
"I can't." He muttered. "It was a different kind of bullet."
"A silver bullet?" I asked, worried yet intrigued.
"Something like that."
"Wait, so that's what she meant when she said you had 48 hours." I mumbled, recalling her words.
"What?" He asked, surprised. "Who said 48 hours?"
"The one who shot you."
"What?" He asked, but suddenly, he grabbed his thighs and groaned in pain as his eyes flashed neon yellow.
"What are you doing?" I hissed. "Stop that."
"That's what I'm trying to tell you. I can't." He grumbled loudly, drawing the attention of a few nearby.
"Derek, shut up." I growled.
"I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used." He said, mustering up his remaining strength to stand straight.
"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" I asked, genuinely clueless.
"She's an Argent. She's with them. Get to their house; you can find it there."
"And how do you expect me to get into their home, drag your bleeding ass, and beg them for a neutralizer?" I mocked.
"You better come up with something, or think about this: next time the Alpha calls Scott, he'll be all alone. You need me."
I grumbled, gritting my teeth. "Fine, I'll try. But first, get to my Jeep. I'll ask Scott to take you somewhere safe. You look like you won't make it through the night."
Derek nodded and slowly made his way out of the hallway. I watched him leave, letting out a sigh. When he was out of sight, I turned around—and my eyes widened as I yelped, staggering backward.
"Allison!" I cried, quickly regaining my composure and masking my shock with a cool facade. "You totally didn't scare the shit out of me."