"Im not going."

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(Y/l/n = your last name + y/m/m/n = your moms maiden name)


I'm so not ready for this.

"Okay Y/N." I say to myself looking in the side mirror of my car at my own reflection. "You've transfered schools plenty of times, what makes this one so different?" I gathered all of my stuff together and slung my bag across my shoulders.

I stepped out of my car and read the school sign for probably about the twentieth time since pulling into the parking lot, Beacon Hills High School.

I walked up on the sidewalk and looked around. The school was actually quite nice, better than some other ones I had been to.

I noticed a swarm of kids getting off of the school bus. Everyone is going to think I'm weird and dumb. I'm in the tenth grade but I already have my liscence. I was held back once or twice since I've switched schools so many times.

I see two boys hop off the bus, one looking straight ahead and the other flailing its arms around while he talked. I couldn't exactly tell what they looked like. All I could really see was that one had long, shaggy hair and the other, a buzz cut. They also looked about my age, or what people should look like when they are the in the tenth grade.

I thought approaching them would be my best option. I might as well try to make friends.

I looked down at my outfit which probably wasn't appropriate for the first day of school. I was wearing my favorite jeans and my old Mets shirt I got when I lived in New York. I was also sporting some all black vans that could go with everything. I had my hair down except for my pieces that hung down on both sides of my head, they were pulled back with a bobby pin. My brown, naturally curly hair was blowing in the wind and I knew if wasn't going to look good if that continued.

Despite my hideousness, I decided to go over there and talk anyways. As I started walking towards them, a strawberry blonde girl with too much lip gloss on walked in front of me instead of turning slightly left and going around. "That's probably the best thing that's ever happened to this town since... Since the birth of Lydia Martin." The one with the buzz cut said. She walked passed him without saying a word. "Hey, Lydia! You look... Like you're going to ignore me." How could she be so rude?

Then the short-haired boy turned around. I finally got to see his face. He had brown eyes that looked like melted chocolate and small little moles that scattered across his face like stars in the night sky. He was beautiful.

Immediantly my breath was taken away and I changed my mind on walking over to the handsome boy and his friend but, my legs didn't listen to my brain and walked up anyways.

"Hi," I said nervously. The attractive boy's friend turned around. The paler, more attractive one opened his mouth like a dog about to drool. "He..hi...hey there." He said trying to be smooth. "Nice," his buddy said to him rolling his eyes. "I'm Y/N," I told the boys. "Scott," the shaggy haired one said to me sticking out his hand. I took it and shook it. "I'm... Mets?" The pale one said. "Mets? You didn't sound like you were so sure about that," I joke. "Yeah... I mean... That's not my name," he said giggling. "My name is Stiles," he said sticking out his hand. "Nice to meet you," I said shaking it. He held onto it while he asked me the next question.

"You like the Mets?" He asked me. "Well, sort of," I tell him. He put his hands on his hips and smiled. "I don't really care for baseball but if I had to, the Mets would be my favorite. I actually got this shirt from their stadium when I was living up in New York," I said looking down at my shirt and rambling. "You lived in New York?" He asked me. "Awesome." I blushed and looked back down at my shoes. "Well, we have class." Scott said. "What's your first period?" Stiles asked me. "Uhhh..." I said pulling out my schedule. "English." I finally tell him. "We have that class too!" Stiles said, his smile getting even bigger. "You, uh, want me to show you where it is?" He asked. "That's alright," I reassured him. My mom should be here any moment. We have to talk to the principal." His smile fell from his face. "Oh. Okay," he said. "But I'll see you in class after." I tell him to try to make him feel better. "Alright," he said smirking and turning around. "See ya later," Scott said turning sound and following the now giddy Stiles.

Dylan O'Brien/Stiles Stilinski Imagines Read this story for FREE!