I can feel the adrenaline rush through my blood when Stiles' Jeep speeds up. My hands are gripping the fabric of my seat and I'm dying to know if Scott got any results and if so, what they are.
"Did it work? Did you remember?" Stiles asks, obviously just as curious as me.
"Yeah, I was there last night. And the blood - A lot of it was mine."
I stay silent and stare at Scott, lost in thought.
"So you did attack him?" I feel like Stiles does not want to know the answer to his question.
"No. I saw glowing eyes in the bus, but they weren't mine. It was Derek," Scott says.
"Glowing eyes? What colour?" I ask.
"Like... red or orange, I don't know."
"It's not Derek," I say.
"How do you know?" he asks.
"I don't," I lie.
"What about the driver?" Stiles asks.
"I think I was actually trying to protect him," Scott says.
"Wait, why would Derek help you remember that he killed the driver?" Stiles asks.
"That's what I don't get."
"It's got to be a pack thing-"
"Guys! Derek didn't do it. I know why. You just need to know something else about werew-" I butt in, only to be interrupted by my own ring tone.
"Hello?" I answer the call.
"Grace, we had a deal, remember? I found this skirt that I think would look really good on you."
"Lydia, I- I'm sorry." Stiles' head snaps to my face.
"I don't think I'm gonna make it to you guys. You know, I'm hanging out with Stiles and Scott and it'd be stupid to go all the way back for an outfit change," I say.
"Stupid? You underestimate the power of clothes, Grace."
"Again, I'm sorry. I'll see you at the bowling place," I say, ready to end the call,when Lydia starts talking again.
"Wait, your uncle wants to say something." I hear some rustling and then Chris' low voice.
"There's a curfew. No one's allowed out past 9:30 PM. I want you to get home as fast as you can and stay home," he says determinedly.
"Okaaay. Um, I'm not sure when I can come home. Traffic's kind of busy and stuff. But I'll be there soon," I say.
"Grace, I hope you're being truthful right now."
"I am."
"Because I would be seriously considering kicking you out of the house if you weren't family," he says, ending the call immediately.
"Well then. Because of curfew, Chris expects me home as fast as possible," I tell Scott and Stiles. They both look a bit lost.
"Let's go bowling," I say, causing smiles to appear on their faces.
"What about Allison and Lydia?" Scott asks.
"Oh, they'll get out of there. Allison might not be a hunter, but she's sure as hell trained like one."
***
"Oh, I'm so bad at this."
Lydia walks back to the table where we're sitting, after having hit three pins - with help from Jackson.
Then it's Allison's turn and she manages to make a strike.
"That's my girl!" I yell.
Jackson makes a strike as well and then it's time for Scott to play.
"You're up, McCall," Jackson says.
He grabs a bowling ball and gets ready.
"You can do it, Scott," Allison encourages him.
Then he lets the bowling ball fly forwards. And land into the gutter. Jackson starts laughing out loud.
"Jackson! You mind shutting up?" Allison defends Scott.
"I'm sorry. I'm just flashing back to the words 'I'm a great bowler.'"
I bite my lip to prevent myself from laughing too, but I really shouldn't. Stiles has a scowl on his face though.
"Maybe he just needs a little warm-up," Allison says.
"Yeah, maybe he just needs the kiddy bumpers," Jackson says.
"Just let him concentrate, come on," I say.
Scott goes again, and again he hits nothing.
"Great job, McCall. Man, you are a pro. Grace, your turn."
"I might be a pro too, if you know what I mean," I say, taking a silver bowling ball and taking my position. I only hit two pins, and the sad thing is that I am actually trying.
"Damn, I thought I was better than this," I say.
"Another great shot from team weirdo," Jackson says, and I turn around to glare at him.
"Do you never go bowling?" Stiles asks me.
"I went bowling with my parents a few times," I say.
"Oh. But you're- I mean, you must be good at sports and stuff, right? Because, you know- And good with your hands?" he looks away for a second and frowns a little, probably wondering if that sounded wrong.
"Just because I'm fit doesn't mean I'm good at bowling, Stiles," I say, smiling.
"And why the heck would she be good at sports?" Jackson asks sceptically.
"Because my aunt is a fight sports instructor and she likes to train with little girls. Turns out they're more badass than some guys," I retort.
"Say that again when you're standing on the lacrosse field with no clue what to do."
"I don't play useless sports, Jackson. I play sports that could be useful to me in real life. Like when some asshole comes up to me and spouts arrogant nonsense my way, I can kick their ass and-"
"Grace, that's enough! We would have a lot more fun if you just kept those awfully dry and chapped lips shut," Lydia says.
"Well I'm sorry mine aren't perfectly moist and tinted red," I frown, increasingly irritated by these two.
"Oh god, they are red. Woah..." I hear Stiles mutter behind me, staring at Lydia in a way that would have definitely resulted in a punch to the face if Jackson had noticed.
"Stiles, it's your turn," I say.
***
"Grace, you're up next."
I take a bowling ball and get in my position when Stiles moves to stand in front of me.
"Wait, let me help a little, you need to stand a little more sideways, just give me the bowling ball for a second."
"I'm fine. I can do this," I protest. He just takes the bowling ball out of my hands.
"Just listen for a second-"
"Stiles, I can do this," I say.
"But-"
"Stiles!"
He stares at me, looking a bit surprised and a bit dazed.
Oh, he has nice eyes-
"Ohh my- fucking- STILES."
The bowling ball that was once in Stiles' hands is now rolling over the floor. After having landed on my toes.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Grace, shit, I'm so sorry-"
I hear everyone laughing behind me and I let out a groan, caused by both embarrassment and pain.
"Let's just sit down, I'm sorry I'm sorry..."
He leads me to our table and then Allison brings me an ice pack, which I can only use if I find a way to take my shoe off.
When that obstacle is overcome, the ice pack rests on my throbbing toe and I close my eyes.
"Anything you need?" Stiles asks quietly.
"Pain killers would be welcome," I say.
"Is it that bad?" he asks, and I open my eyes to look at him. He's giving me a guilty puppy look, making it infinitely harder to be angry with him.
"Well, it was a fucking bowling ball," I say. He looks down and stays quiet until I start laughing.
"Wh- why are you-"
"You pulled a classic movie joke on me, you idiot," I giggle.
"I... It's not funny," Stiles says, but the corners of his mouth are slowly turning upwards.
"It's hilarious, Stiles. I think the nail is broken and there's no way I'm gonna be able to sneak in the house later on, I can barely walk, let alone climb up a roof. But this is hilarious."
"It's- I can't laugh about it now, I have to wait until about 10 years in the future when we're old and gray and reflecting on our memories," he says, a grin covering his face.
"I'm not waiting 10 years to laugh. That's ridiculous- ugh- Fuck," a jab of pain shoots through my toe and I remove the ice pack for a second, taking in the blood on my sock and the inflated lump where my toe used to be.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm gonna go to the bathroom, to clean this thing up," I say, standing up.
"Woah, woah, are you gonna limp your way down there?" he asks, standing up as well and taking hold of my arm.
"Are you gonna join me to the ladies' room?" I ask.
"Don't worry, I'll help her," Allison approaches us and I smile at her, Lydia coming up soon after.
"That was a great one, Lydia," I say, congratulating her on the almost strike she scored on her own, without anyone's help.
"Was it?" she asks.
"Maybe you should stop pretending to suck just for Jackson's benefit," Allison says.
"Trust me, I do plenty of sucking just for his benefit," Lydia answers cockily.
I pull a face and pull on Allison's sleeve.
"Oh my- I just don't get a break tonight, do I? Allison, let's get out of here before she shows us their sextape," I say.
***
"Grace, are you coming with us?" Allison asks, nodding her head to Scott.
"Uh, well, I'm not gonna be able to sneak in and when I get caught... You know what, you two just go, I'll make something up," I say.
"We have a guest room," Stiles says. I look at him questioningly.
"If you really don't want to go home, you can stay at our place."
"I... well, honestly, my family's gonna find out anyway, so..."
"No, I feel like I owe this to you. Just please at least act like it's helpful...?" he says.
"What are you gonna tell your dad?" I ask.
"The truth."
"You're gonna tell the sheriff of Beacon Hills that you and your friends ignored the police enforced curfew?"
"Not just the sheriff. Also my dad."
"I... you have a point, but..."
"Just at least come back to mine so we can figure out how to get you back home unseen?" he asks.
"Fine."
***
"Alright, you stay here for a second. I'm gonna tell dad what happened and then I'll come get you, okay?" Stiles says when we're standing in front of his door.
"Sure," I say.
Stiles enters his house. I stand there waiting for a few minutes, everything around me silent, until the door swings open in front of me.
"Hi, Grace. You should go home. And both of you, get to bed. I'll be back before tomorrow morning, son."
The sheriff passes me and gets into his car, driving off without another word.
"Uh, what was that?" I ask Stiles.
"Change of plans. We're going to Scott's."
***
"Why are we going to his house? What happened with your dad? Stiles," I say, getting annoyed with him.
"I'll tell you when we're inside, with Scott," Stiles says, sending a text on his phone.
"He'll come open the door for us."
Three minutes later, he actually does. We sneak in as silently as possible, Stiles still supporting me.
"Why didn't you come through the window, like always?" Scott whispers.
"Why do you think? Have you seen her toe?" Stiles says.
"Let's just get to his room-" I say, interrupted by the light switching on and Scott's mom swinging a baseball bat our way. Everyone screams except for me, because I'm busy stepping forward to stop Melissa from hurting anyone. She stops herself though, when she realises who we are, and I yelp when pain shoots through my foot due to my quick movements. I almost fall down, but Stiles grabs my arm and keeps me up.
"Woah, woah, hey," he says quickly.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Melissa yells.
"What are we doing? God, do either of you even play baseball?" Stiles answers while I put my arm around his waist to keep my balance.
"What? Can you please tell your friends to use the front door?" She turns to Scott.
"They did, I let them in."
"Why..." She sighs.
"Do any of you care about the curfew?"
"No," we all answer.
"And are you okay? You look like you hurt yourself," Melissa looks at me.
"I'm fine," I smile, taking my arms away from Stiles to try and stand alone. My toe is throbbing when I gently put my foot on the ground.
"All right then. Well, you know what? That's about enough parenting for me for tonight, so good night," she says, going to her bedroom.
"Good night," Scott says. I turn my head to face Stiles and wait for whatever he has to say. Scott eventually notices the look on Stiles' face.
"What?" he asks.
"My dad left for the hospital 15 minutes ago. It's the bus driver. They said he succumbed to his wounds."
"Succumbed?" Scott asks.
"Scott, he's dead."
They need to know. They need to know right now.
"Guys, there's something I need to tell you."
"He killed them. He killed them both!" Scott says.
"No, Scott. He didn't kill them. And he didn't bite you," I say.
"What?"
"There's one basic thing you need to know about werewolves. Are you finally going to listen to me?"
"Yeah, yeah, tell us," Stiles says.
"Okay. Wolves form packs, as you know. What you don't know is that there is a wolf hierarchy. There are leaders, followers and outsiders. Outsiders are omegas, they are not part of a pack and they are not important to us right now. You and Derek are betas, you're supposed to follow the pack's leader, the alpha. Here's the thing: A beta's bite cannot turn anyone. Only an alpha's can. Which means that there is one out there, and he's the one who's killing these people, and he's not gonna stop."
"But Derek-"
"No, Scott."
"I gotta talk to Derek," he says.
"He's gonna tell you exactly the same thing," I say, but he's out of the window before I can stop him.