willow | d. hale [on hold]

13 | jackson

It was one of the rare times that Willow didn't raise her hand to answer a question. She needed to stay put and listen to Jackson, who had somehow become involved in all of this. And evidently, Derek was the one to involve him. They kidnapped Jackson the night before and tested him with kanima venom.

"Paralyzed from the neck down. Do you have any idea what that feels like?" he asked, clearly still upset about it.

"I'm familiar with the sensation," Stiles muttered.

"Wait - why would Derek test you? Why would he think that it's you?" Scott asked.

Willow frowned and realized that in addition to not many of them knowing Jackson was bitten, they also didn't know that nothing happened to him on the full moon. But at least since the test didn't work, Willow didn't have to worry about him being the kanima.

"How should I know?" Jackson asked, clearly uncomfortable with the question. He glanced at Willow, who silently assured him that she'd kept her mouth shut about his inability to shift.

"Wait, do they think it's Lydia?" Stiles then asked.

"I don't know, all I heard was her name and something about chemistry—"

"Jackson!" Couch shouted, interrupting their conversation. Willow quickly sat back in her seat and began copying notes, not wanting to get in trouble for talking. "Do you have something you want to share with the rest of the class?"

Jackson floundered for a moment, trying to think of something to say. "Um, just an undying admiration for my - my coach."

"That's really kind of you," Coach muttered, knowing he was just being a kissass. "Now shut up! Shut it! Anybody else?"

As soon as Coach stepped away, Scott leaned closer to Stiles. "How do we know it's not her?"

"Because I looked into the eyes of that thing, okay? And what I saw was pure evil. And when I look into Lydia's eyes, I only see fifty percent evil. All right, maybe sixty. You know, but no more than forty on a good day," Stiles told him, which wasn't very convincing.

"Stiles, that's not a very good argument," Scott pointed out.

"I'm aware of that," he muttered. "But I swear it's not her. It can't be, all right? Lydia's fine."

It seemed the universe was determined to prove how not fine Lydia was. The girl who had been up at the board answering a question had begun to silently cry while writing something unintelligible on the board. It took Coach several attempts to snap her out of the terrified state.

Willow squinted at the words that were repeated, something about them looking familiar and yet not at the same time. It looked like the writing of a crazy person.

"Okay then, anybody else want to try answering?" Coach asked as Lydia stumbled back to her seat, ignoring the laugher. "This time in English?"

"What is that, Greek?" Scott asked, peering at the board.

Willow shook her head but didn't say anything aloud. She was too busy writing the letters on her notebook, which were backward on the board.

"No, actually, I think it is English," Stiles muttered. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the board. Then he flipped the photo just as Willow slid her paper with the correct message over to them.

SOMEONE HELP ME.

"It's not her," Willow whispered to herself.

But as class went on and Willow let herself think, she wasn't so sure. She recalled the night from the week before when Lydia slept over. She thought of all the things Lydia had admitted to her.