A NORMAL DAY IN BEACON HILLS

"I HEARD YOU SUGGESTED my boyfriend come out of his closet?" questioned Lydia, as soon as she saw me in the school.

"Yes..." I trailed off, not knowing how to answer it. She must be pissed. I mean, how would I know Jackson would complain about me to his girlfriend. That Little bitch.

"Hmm," Lydia mused, "I was waiting for him to notice it for a while now."

"Oh!" My voice came out as a squeak.

"Allison said you are a good shopping companion," Lydia said, "Let's do it sometime."

"Alright," I said, clearing my throat. And with that, the Queen B turned around and walked to her next class, her hips swaying as she went.

"Is it just me, or did Lydia Martin asked you to hang out with her?" Stiles whom I didn't know was beside me until then asked aloud.

"I really have no idea," I said, blinking my eyes in disbelief. I expected some kind of warning or some bitchy comment, and all Lydia asked was for us to hangout.

Maybe, it's some kind of elaborate revenge plan...

"Are you alright, Stiles?" I asked when I saw my weird friend, close to hyperventilation.

"Can this day get any weirder?" was the buzz cut boy's reply.

"Sure. Don't put it past me, Stiles," I said. I mean, I am stuck in a fricking fictional world.

"Hey, Scott," Allison greeted us with a confused smile, "Why are you standing in the middle of the hallway and gaping like you just saw a giant pink elephant riding a unicycle?"

"That's an accurate description of what just happened," I grumbled, thoughtful. "Lydia Martin just asked me to accompany her on a shopping trip," when Allison still looked confused about what's the problem in that, I continued, "After I pointed out that Jackson Whittmore might have a thing for guys."

Allison's unclear eyes suddenly widened with the realization. "Oh..."

"Yup," I said with a tight smile.

"Right..." Allison uttered another single word.

"Anyway, what class do you have now?" I asked the brunette with high cheekbones.

"Trig," Allison said.

"Hmm, May the force be with you," I blessed her, raising my right hand, and she laughed, bowing a little and thanking me.

"Oh, my god. Have you finally seen Star Wars?" Stiles said with wonder in his eyes, once Allison left for her class.

"I haven't," I said, "I just liked the sentence. I read it somewhere once, and it sounded cool, so I used it."

And the disappointed and betrayed look he gave me, made me laugh really hard. Looks like Scott and I have one more thing in common.

I entered the chemistry class, my eyes peering at the people in the room, as I tried to find a seat while trying to memorize a few faces. I waved softly once I caught Isaac sitting in the last row, away from everyone. Against my better judgment, I sat next to Stiles, even when there are a few empty seats. Mostly, because they are close to Jackson's seat, whom I haven't made eye contact with, despite the Jock, drilling holes in my head with his heated glare.

After a while, the chemistry teacher, who hated Stiles and me, profoundly, for a reason unknown to me, entered the class. He looks at us every time like he wants to hurl something at our heads, just for existing.

"Alright, is everyone ready for the test?" He asked, dropping a pile of papers on his desk. There were a few murmurs around the room.

I turned towards Stiles, with confusion clear in my eyes. "There's a test?"

"Yes," he said. "Haven't you heard?"

"Sorry, I was busy with other fury problems," I said in a snarky tone. "What's the topic? I am sure I can wing it."

Stiles looked skeptical, causing me to roll my eyes, "Trust me. I have done some light reading during the holidays." I lied. I am pretty sure the real Scott did everything but that.

"It's about Radioactive Decay and Nuclear Chemistry," answered Stiles.

"Cool," I said.

Sophomore year's chemistry is a piece of cake, weighing I planned to pursue a major in biochemistry.

The day passed in a blur, like every other day. Everyone's talking about the game tomorrow night. People are really into it, as it was the first game this season. Scott's mom also talks about the same thing at dinner. Melissa knows something is not right with me, but it's not like I can say to her anything about my origin without sounding absolutely nuts. Melissa probably thinks I am going through some emo teenage phase. She reasonably thought, talking about the upcoming lacrosse game is the only thing the mother and daughter could bond over. Mostly because it is Scott's only passion.

I sometimes felt really bad seeing her sad face. Melissa McCall loves her daughter very much. Despite seeing each other rarely with their working hours, and trying to earn money to pay the bills by working late night shifts, she never stopped trying to show how much she trusted and loved her. And that makes everything more difficult, because, I know, I am not the daughter she loves. How would a mother feel if I were to say I snatched their daughter's body and that I don't have any idea where her real daughter is?

And it's not like this show has witches in it. Just druids. Druids who have a career as vets and student counselors. And, there are, of course, Darach's who are psychotic, and mostly rely on sacrificial magic. I will rather die than go near those psychos for help. The only option I have is to either have another bathtub incident or die. And death is something I am afraid of. I don't know if it's the trauma due to my mother's untimely demise, or if it's due to the doctor's profession I am choosing. All in all, death is not a concept I like to deal with. So, I'm just going to wait for another one of those bathtub scenarios.

xxXxx

"Hey, how was school?" Melissa asked that night.

"Good," I said, shoving the salad into my mouth, "Everyone's just talking about the game."

"mhmm," Melissa hummed, and asked, "Are you prepared for the game, then?"

"I guess," I said, shrugging my shoulders a little, "I mean, I don't think Jackson would want me to play, with the little spat we are having. I will be considered lucky if someone decided to pass the ball to me."

"That's awful," She said with a frown, "Have you tried talking with him?"

"The jerk sprained Stiles's leg to get back to me. And every time I try to say something, he just glares at me like I took his favorite toy," I said, scowling at the memory, "Anyway, I will talk to him when he stops being childish."

"And how is that girl, Allison doing?" Melissa questioned, spattering some chili flakes on her pasta, "you are still friends, right?"

"Yes, we are. She is sweet. But she mostly hangs out with Lydia. I usually sit with Isaac and Stiles for lunch," I said, taking a bite from my pasta.

"Isaac?" She questioned.

"Isaac Lahey. His father was a coach for the school's swimming team. Isaac is a lacrosse player too. A bit shy, but he has the most beautiful blue eyes. He also has a few classes with me," I indulged my not so real mother.

Melissa had a smirk after that, "You like him."

"Yeah," I said, not thinking much about it. But as soon as I saw the smirk growing on the older woman's face, I shook my head, correcting her, saying, "Not like that. He just looked like one of those wounded puppies in the vet. So, I just decided to keep him, and you know Stiles, he just followed my lead."

Melissa's smirk depleted, but there was still a smile on her face, "Fine. Maybe not now. You may like him after a while. I will see him at the match."

"Whatever," I said with a sigh, not touching the subject. "The pasta's good, by the way."

I got up from my seat and placed the plate in the dishwasher, along with the class. "I am going to my room now. I have some assignments to complete."

"Good night," she said, as I made my way upstairs.

"You too," I hollered back once I reached my assigned room. As soon as I closed the door and turned around. I jerked back a little, seeing Derek already there in the shadows.

"God! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" I breathed out once I composed myself.

And Jerk wolf rolled his eyes, saying, "We need to talk."

"Yes," I agreed, "We need to talk about personal space. What the heck are you doing here? Could've at least messaged me before walking in unannounced."

"I did," was his short reply. I checked my pockets for the cell phone, when I didn't find it on me, my eyes roamed around the room. And, once I saw my phone plugged in for a charge, I huffed.

"Then you should've waited until I replied. You are taking this Edward Cullen role to a whole new level," I muttered, turning around the face the serious werewolf.

"Are you sure you can play tomorrow's match without any complications. The Argents are going to be there," Derek questioned in a solemn tone.

"Yeah. I am not going to do anything that will draw attention to our cult," I said, rolling my eyes. But when I saw Derek's expression, I sighed and repeated the words again in a serious tone.

When the sour wolf looked satisfied enough, he nodded his head.

"You said, you wanted to learn more about the chemosignals, didn't you?" when I nodded my head, Derek cocked his head towards the open window and said, "Come on, then. I will teach you."

"But my school work..." I didn't complete the sentence when Derek's expression turned sharp. I just huffed and decided to follow him.

"As werewolves, our senses are heightened. You can smell a person's grief, anxiety, depression, stress. You can even smell if they are sick. Like cancer, you can smell it from the foul smell of their blood running through their veins. It takes time. We will take it slowly," Derek said. We were in the woods just near his burnt house.

"Now close your eyes," he instructed and I did as I told, "Focus on the different scents around you," he said. And I took a deep breath, trying to smell whatever I can. "Some scents are tied to identity, and others give off emotion. Now, smelling emotions is not like smelling chocolate and perfume. Different emotions give you different scents. Some are terrible and some sweet. And you don't need some manual to know how they smell. Your subconscious provides you with an answer as soon as you smell it."

"I can't," I said, frustrated, "I smell a lot of things, I can't differentiate them."

"That's because you are trying too hard," Derek said, giving me one of his legendary eye rolls.

"Well, all I can smell now is your annoyance," I said, with a sarcastic scowl.

"Look," Derek released a sigh, folding his hands under his chest, "I don't, normally, give classes for newbie wolves. You are my first one. So how about we both cooperate, and get this done." I nodded my head.

"Now, take a deep breath," he said. "Don't try too hard, let your senses take control. Clear your mind. Now pick one scent, something strong, and follow it."

"I smell earth?" It came more like a question, "The wet mud."

"Good, now follow something different," Derek said, and I started naming things.

"Wet wood. Peppermint...no eucalyptus. Leather," I leaned a little close to the wolf before me and breathed in, "Your perfume- cardamom, cedar, a little lavender, and lemon. Fresh grass, berries...blood," as soon as I said the last word, my eyes opened wide.

"It's your sister, right?" I asked, but his face gave away all the answers. I glanced towards the direction where I smelled the scent.

"I am sorry," I said with a sigh. "I just...you are grieving, and I just hounded you with questions." I just brushed him off and his pain thinking he is a fictional character. But he is not. Not here. He is his own real person and he feels everything a human feels. And now that I realized, I can't help but think how much of a shitty person I was.

"I don't need your pity," Derek bit out.

"Maybe, you don't but I am not someone without empathy," I said, "I treat wounded puppies and kittens, what do you think?"

"Scott, my sister is dead. And the only way I grieve her is by catching the one who did this to her," Derek said.

"That's not the way to grieve her, Derek," I couldn't help but say. "That's not healthy. Are you just gonna bury your sister in your backyard? Don't you think she needs a decent burial?"

"I think we are done for today," Derek said, walking away.

"I know it's not my place to say," I said to his back. "But I am not someone who stays in the sidelines when someone I know is going through a hard time. I am studying to become a doctor. And what kind of person I would be for not helping a person in need. Especially someone who thinks he doesn't need help, and too stubborn to ask."

"Go home, Scott," was the only response I received.

"Just...think about it alright?" I couldn't help but say. "Even if you don't have anyone, I will be there. We can give her a decent goodbye. We can ask Stiles's father, for another half of the body, Or we can just steal it from the hospital."

xxXxx

"What's got you in the mood," Stiles asked, as soon as he saw me the next day at school.

"It's just Derek. He is being stubborn," I whispered, tugging my bag a little as I walked.

"What did he do?" Stiles asked sharply like an overprotective mother hen.

"Nothing," I bitterly said, "That's the problem, he is doing nothing other than planning revenge on the murderer. He buried his sister in the backyard, Stiles. Just half of the body he found. That's it. I tried to tell him she needed a proper goodbye, but he just got angry and left."

"That's morbid," Stiles murmured, "But I should've guessed when it comes to Derek."

"Yeah. Anyway. I am not going to think about this now," I muttered, puffing out my chest. "I am going to focus on not shifting in front of the whole stadium, and I am going to resist the temptation to bash someone's head when they throw sexist comments at me."

"Wow!" Stiles said, looking up to me. "Those are incredible strategies."

"I know," I said, pleased with myself.

"How about you add, try to give my best in the game somewhere in there," Stiles said, making me pout.