ANCHOR
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LYDIA STARES AT the sketchbook, clutching down on her pencil tightly. Malia watches her, waiting impatiently. The strawberry blonde slowly moves the pencil towards the paper. Malia averts her gaze from her to the easel. She moves from her right shoulder to her left, trying to get a better view. Meanwhile, Allison sits off to the side, a book laid out on the table in front of her. Although, she's not actually reading it.
"Please stop hovering." Lydia snaps at the werecoyote, opening her eyes and glancing back at the girl.
"I'm not hovering. I'm... waiting," Malia says. "Draw something, write something. We need to know who else is on that list."
Lydia inhales a quick and sharp breath. "You mean, you need to know if you're on the list."
Malia sighs and tips her head back as she licks her lips. She thinks of an honest answer, which isn't difficult for her. "If someone's coming to take my head off, then yeah. I'd like to know."
"To be fair," Allison starts, leaning her cheek against the palm of her hand. "I'd like to know, too."
As the banshee's hand gets closer to the sketchbook, Malia leans over her shoulder more. Lydia closes her eyes and tilts her head to the right, attempting to relax and find silence despite the breathing in her ear. When Lydia's patience runs to the lowest point, she finally snaps. "Can you please just sit down?"
Malia immediately moves away and takes a seat next to Allison. She grabs a nearby book and starts flipping through it in an attempt to distract herself. Allison purses her lips at the both of them.
Lydia grits her teeth, still holding the yellow pencil tightly in her hand. "You're making me nervous."
"Sorry," the werecoyote says quietly. Malia glances between her and the book, nonchalantly turning the pages and taking small looks at the images. Then a familiar shape comes into Malia's sight. She perks up at the drawing, an idea dawning on her. "Lydia."
"What?" When neither of her friends respond, Lydia scoffs in an irritated voice. "Oh, my God, what?"
"Maybe we need help," Allison tells her, turning on her stool to look at Lydia. "Maybe from another banshee."
Malia adjusts her book and props it up for Lydia to see. She sighs heavily, pursing her lips in either an annoyed or reluctant manner. Lydia takes a moment to process the thought. "Meredith."
Malia shrugs one shoulder. She raises her eyebrows in question as well. "So?"
"Let's go call Eichen House," Lydia drops her pencil and jumps off the chair. She heads toward the doors to the art room, Allison and Malia following suit.
They enter the hallway, and the strawberry blonde takes her phone out and dials the number. Lydia holds the device to her ear and waits as the phone rings. Then the ringing stops.
"Hi, this is Lydia Martin calling," Lydia shifts her weight onto one heel. She glances back at Allison, who offers an assuring smile. "I was wondering if it would be possible for me and some of my friends to visit a patient?"
Malia taps the tip of her shoes against the tiles, nibbling on the inside of her cheek as she watches Lydia talk to the Eichen employee.
"Meredith Walker," the strawberry blonde says. She fidgets with a button on her striped sweater anxiously. Malia furrows her brows but decides to dismiss her observation.
"Uh..." Lydia's mouth gapes as she turns to Malia and Allison for assistance. The two's eyes widen, neither of them aware of what to assist with. They both shrug helplessly. Lydia bites back a groan and replies to the employee. "We're good friends with Meredith."
Lydia's expression fades to one of disappointment; she pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. Malia looks at her closely, and she can see the essence of a tear forming in the inner corners of Lydia's eyes.
"No." Lydia admits with a sigh, pressing her lips together afterwards. "We are not..." Another moment of silence passes, and Allison's posture has deflated. "Okay. Thank you for your time— have a nice day."
When Lydia spins to face Malia and Allison, she motions for them to walk with her to the stairs. The trio make their way down the staircase and to the first floor of the school. Few groups of students crowd the hall, some of the lacrosse players gather near the locker rooms to prepare for practice. "Eichen House says Meredith can't have visitors without permission from a family member."
Allison frowns. "Her whole family is dead."
"Perfect," she says sarcastically. Allison and Malia stop in their tracks, while Lydia continues her path through the hall.
"Okay. Maybe we go back to the art room? Or music room?" Malia suggests, pointing at the shorter girl as she talks.
Lydia whirls around at the mention of the music room, her face filled with refusal and decisiveness. "I'm not plucking piano strings for two hours waiting for some supernatural inspiration."
"Fine. What else do banshees do?"
Allison subtly places a hand on Malia's forearm, signaling for her to stop. The werecoyote keeps her gaze on Lydia and quirks an eyebrow at her. Allison tugs lightly at her arm, but Malia doesn't spare her a glance.
"You think I know?" Lydia questions. Malia shrugs again, clueless as to why Allison is trying to warn her. The banshee takes a step closer, opening her mouth to speak. "I can't just turn this on," she maintains eye contact with Malia as she takes a few more steps towards her. "I'm not like you guys. I don't have claws, or glowing eyes, or super senses— I just have voices in my head."
Allison's jaw slightly drops at the raise of her voice. She scans all the faces that have turned to look at her best friend, most of them giving her the typical, "Oh, she's crazy," stare.
Unfortunately, Lydia takes notice. Tears have gathered in her eyes, and she tightens her hands into fists before spinning the other way and around the corner. Malia's expression softens in sympathy and regret as she watches her friend rush away.
"I'm gonna go see if she's okay," Allison says, releasing her grasp on Malia's arm. "I'll be right back. Maybe you could go find Isaac?" The werewolf starts to round the corner of the hall when she suddenly comes to a stop. She turns to look at Malia once more. "It's not your fault, Mal." Then she leaves.
Malia stands there in the middle of the hall, her gaze locked on the spot where her friends were standing only a few moments ago.
It's not your fault.
"Lia?" A voice calls from behind, causing Malia to snap out of her trance and turn towards their direction. Isaac stands a few feet away from her, confusion written in his eyes. "What're you doing? I thought you were—?"
"I made her upset. She stormed off, and Allison went to see if she's okay," she explains quickly.
Isaac reluctantly nods, and he purses his lips afterwards. He's carrying his lacrosse bag and helmet in his right hand, while his backpack is slugged lazily over his shoulder. "Uh. Do you wanna come with me to practice? It's just at the field— it's not that far a walk. Plus I think Coach might like your commentary."
"Oh," the werecoyote hesitates, forming her mouth into a round shape. "Sure."
Isaac smiles warmly, gesturing for her to follow him out the double doors to the left. Malia hurriedly steps beside him, and they make their way to the lacrosse field. While they walk, Malia stares down at the tips of her shoes. She spaces out from her surroundings, thinking about anything except for making conversation with the boy next to her.
"Is everything okay?" he asks, catching her attention instantly. The werecoyote looks up at him with creased brows. "I—I just noticed you're just staring at your shoes, so..."
"Oh. Yeah, I'm fine." Malia replies with a casual shrug, nodding her head as well.
Isaac does an exaggerated nod, pressing his lips in a tight line afterward. Another uncomfortable silence follows, and they both seem to be looking everywhere but at each other.
When they reach the lacrosse field, Scott and Stiles are sitting on a bench and tying their shoe laces. Isaac leads Malia over to them and drops his bag on the grass; he takes his helmet into his hands and then takes a seat beside his friends to tie his shoes too.
Malia hesitantly places herself near the three, only two or three feet farther. Stiles leans forward to get a better view of Malia, giving her one of his awkward smiles.
"Heyyyy, Malia." He drags out his greeting, still grinning weirdly at her. Malia slightly waves back in acknowledgment. "How's it going?"
"STILINSKI! MCCALL! LAHEY!" Coach's booming voice startles the group of four, all of them almost jumping off of the bench. "Get your asses on the field, now!"
Scott apologizes to Coach before rushing on to the field, yanking his helmet over his head. Stiles shakes his head, murmuring something about Coach being more impatient than him. Malia and Isaac smile lightly at his remark, both of them glancing between him and the other. Then Isaac stands, pulling on his helmet as he straightens himself.
"Are you alright with waiting here?" the dirty blond asks, squinting down at the girl intently. "Practice usually runs for about an hour."
Malia nods her head, adjusting herself on the bleachers to be in a more comfortable position. "Yeah. I'll just read a book or... something."
Isaac smiles and backpedals toward the rest of the team before spinning around to join them along with Stiles. Malia watches them for a moment, and then reaches into his bag to look at some of the many books he has. She pulls out the one that looks the most interesting, flipping to the first page without reading the description.
Another hour passes by, and Malia is still seated on the bench reading. The sun began to set about thirty minutes ago; the lacrosse team is still running track; Coach is still yelling at them to hustle. Malia looks up every once in a while to watch her friends, but always drifts back to the book placed on her lap.
"Hey," two voices say from above. The werecoyote looks up to find Allison and Lydia standing in front of her.
"Oh. Hi," Malia replies, closing the cover of her book. She slides it back into Isaac's bag, zipping the pocket afterwards. "Everything okay?"
"We're going to Eichen," Lydia informs her. "We want to talk to Meredith, and I think they might be more reluctant to say no if we're actually standing in front of them."
"Oh," the light-brown haired girl says, standing from her seat and dusting off the back of her shorts. "I'll just text Isaac and tell him later." She looks over to the field and finds him laughing with Scott, while Stiles seems to be frowning and rolling his eyes. "I don't think he'll mind. I put his book back, anyway."
Allison smiles warmly, holding out her hand for Malia. They slide their palms together along with Lydia's, and then they make their way to the banshee's car. They don't say much, the three of them mainly enjoying the shades of the sunset painting the sidewalk.
When they reach the car, Lydia and Allison sit in the driver's and passenger's seats, while Malia slides into the back and towards the middle.
"So, Isaac took you to his lacrosse practice?" Allison questions suddenly, fastening her seatbelt as she twists her neck to look at her friend.
"Yeah. It wasn't that bad," Malia pulls her seatbelt over her chest and buckles it, shrugging as she does. "They mostly just practiced their throws, and listened to Coach yell at them to hurry up."
Allison grins at her before turning to Lydia, who has yet to start the car. The banshee has been scrolling on her phone for the directions to Eichen House. "Lydia? Are you okay?"
"Hm?" she looks up from the screen to glance between Allison and Malia, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. "Yeah, I'm fine."
The phone in her hand starts to ring, the caller ID being shown as well. Lydia answers and puts the call on speaker for Allison and Malia to hear the conversation. "Hello?"
____________
"I'm aware that this is probably about the dead pool," the Sheriff says, leading the three girls towards his office, "but I can't let her leave the station. In about a minute, I'm gonna have to call Eichen House and let them know that she's here."
"Give us an hour." Lydia requests with a tone that makes it seem more like a demand.
Stilinski pauses, furrowing his eyebrows and giving her a stern look before replying. "You got fifteen minutes."
Lydia sighs quietly and strides into the room in a rush. Allison and Malia glance at each other warily before following her. They enter the room to find a girl in her early twenties, sitting on a couch against the wall. She has curly light brown hair, which is styled in a shorter cut. Her skin is incredibly pale, making the dark circles around her eyes more visible.
Malia moves to lean up against the desk in the middle of the room, while Allison takes her place by Lydia's side. When Meredith looks up and sees Allison, her eyes widen instantly, and she averts her gaze to the glass window in an attempt to make her actions subtle. This confuses the pair of girls, but they don't say anything.
The Sheriff and another deputy enter the office and close the door behind them. "Ask what you need to ask," Stiles's father advises, motioning for them start talking.
Lydia, who's standing in front of the older girl, holds out her cellphone. She nods her head towards the other banshee, and Meredith takes the phone out of her hands. There's an awkward moment of silence. Malia narrows her eyes in confusion, biting the inside of her cheek.
"Meredith, aren't you gonna answer it?" Lydia asks her, raising her brows in question.
Meredith slowly stands from the couch and leans close to Lydia's ear, then whispers, "It's not ringing." She takes a seat on the cushions once more, leaving Lydia more aggravated than before.
The strawberry blonde crouches down in front of her. "Meredith, you came here to help us. Remember?"
"You called me."
Everyone in the room is slightly taken aback by her response, each of them trading glances with one another.
"What do you mean I called you?" Lydia inquires.
Meredith whispers, "I heard you."
Although Stilinski and Parrish were unable to hear her words, the werewolf and werecoyote's abilities allowed them to overhear from a few feet away.
The deputy cautiously walks over to the banshees. "Meredith, can I ask you a question?" She nods, so he kneels down next to Lydia. He rests one arm against his leg. "When you need something, is there someone you reach out to? Maybe someone you call?"
"It depends," she answers reluctantly, "different people for different things."
"So, maybe there's a number that can help us?" Parrish queries, using a hopeful tone to persuade her better. "Someone we can call?"
"Yes." Meredith announces with a grin, nodding her head again. Parrish asks if she would be open to telling them the number, and she agrees. Lydia takes the phone from Meredith, opening the number dial to prepare for the sequence.
"It's two," she starts, closing her eyelids as she focuses on reciting the digits. "Four... three... six."
Meredith opens her eyes calmly, smiling contently as she stares blankly at everyone. Lydia waits for the next six numbers, even though it's obvious she'll never get them. Malia is the first to speak.
"Mer," she says, catching the banshee's attention. "We need a few more numbers."
"No," Meredith says flatly. "That's the number."
"Phone numbers are ten digits." Malia reminds her, trying to keep her voice remotely soft. Allison's gaze switches from Meredith to Lydia; her fingers are clenched so tightly around her phone her knuckles are beginning to turn white.
"That's the number—"
"Meredith. Phone numbers always have ten digits!" Lydia exclaims. Her patience has clearly run out for Meredith.
"That's the number."
Lydia's shoulders tense up. Her eyes become threatening, and she grits her teeth. "Meredith."
"Lydia. It's okay— come on." Allison pulls her from the floor, holding her arms gently. Lydia stares down at the floor, both her hands holding the sides of her head. Her mouth gapes slightly and she sucks in little breaths of air.
Stilinski steps forward, sighing. "I think that's the best we're gonna get."
"No..." Lydia whispers, mainly to herself. "There has to be more..."
Suddenly, she whips around and wriggles out of Allison's grasp to face Meredith. Her expression is filled with rage, and she gets closer to Meredith's face as she harshly says, "what's the rest of it, Meredith? Hm? Just concentrate!"
The older girl begins stuttering nervously, repeating the same words over and over again. "Th—That... That's—That's the... number."
Lydia turns the other way and walks to the middle of the room, clenching her fists. Allison rushes to her best friend, attempting to get her to calm down and offering reassuring words to her.
The Sheriff tries the same with Meredith and tells her it's alright, but she lashes out. Her arms flail in the air, a shriek escaping her mouth. Everybody flinches, and Parrish leaves the room to call Eichen House. Meredith is panting like a bull, her breathing unsteady and heavy. No one speaks after that.
____________
Allison is passed out on the couch, her head leaning against the armrest. Lydia is sitting at the desk in the office chair, massaging her face with her right hand; she looks utterly exhausted.
Malia, on the other hand, is restless. She paces near the banshee, looking intently at the numbers written on the yellow sticky note. When the girl comes to a pause, she frowns before sliding the paper off the table and crumbling it, deciding to throw it in the trash so it can no longer taunt her and her friends.
However, her gaze lands on the digital phone on the table. Malia studies the numbers and the letters written beneath them. Her face lightens up at a sudden thought.
"Lydia," she says in a bright tone. Lydia stops rubbing her forehead and raises her eyebrows. "What if it's like algebra?"
The strawberry blonde opens her green eyes, squinting them at Malia. "What do you mean?"
Malia turns the phone to Lydia's direction, causing her to look at the digits more carefully. "What if the numbers are actually letters?"
Lydia's eyes widen, realization flooding them in an instant. She doesn't avert her eyes from the numbers as she reaches over the desk to grab the notepad and pen, stumbling while doing so. Malia rushes over to the couch, leaning down to shake Allison's shoulder lightly. The brunette groans, her face scrunching at the disturbance. Malia gives her a more violent shake, and Allison finally responds.
"Hm?" she mumbles, eyelids slowly opening. Malia waits until her brown irises are halfway visible before speaking again. "What is it?"
"Lydia might've figured out the second key," Malia informs her, waving a hand in Lydia's vicinity. "Come on."
Allison pushes herself off the armrest and swipes a lazy hand through her curtain bangs, moving them out of her line of sight. She straightens and walks over to the pair of girls, standing to the left of the office chair. Malia and Allison watch as Lydia writes down each letter under the numbers given by Meredith; she circles one letter per digit, until three. Her hopeful expression fades into a nervous one.
"Oh, God..." Lydia says almost inaudibly, reading the word to herself over and over again in her head. Allison covers her mouth with her palm, the tips of her fingers curling as well.
AIDEN.
Lydia reaches down and picks up her laptop, slamming it onto the desk and opening it. The screen lights up and the code loads in. When the password bar shows up, Lydia looks at Allison and Malia, searching for confirmation and reassurance. Allison nods and jerks her chin toward the computer. They both lean down over Lydia's shoulder to watch as she types the five letters, and presses enter.
The code begins to decrypt into names with prices beside them; the second half of the dead pool. Allison gasps and Lydia frantically scans through the list, as does Malia. The werecoyote reads the first half of the names, and a certain name catches her attention.
"Brett Talbot?"