𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄
𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰.
" My New Life Begins. "
"Lydia." Polly quietly moans. One arm stays placed above her head while the other stays crossed over her face, eyes kept tightly shut the entire time.
The mattress that she sleeps on perfectly molds her body, while her comfortable duvet lays smoothly over her soft skin. She wears a plain white tank top and black shorts, needing to wear something that doesn't cover much skin since her room tends to get warm throughout the night, making her sweat if she wears anything more. It's not often that she's able to fall asleep without any nightmares, but thankfully this is one of the few nights where she's able to force herself to get at least one hour of sleep — a large amount of time that she doesn't get often. For most of the night Polly laid wide awake, reading a book that she's already read multiple times, nothing better to do with her time than that. Sometimes, she'd sneak out late at night and go on a walk, but after everything that has happened the previous night with Scott and the unknown man at the school, she chooses to stay home, knowing that Scott would be disappointed in her if she did end up leaving, even for a short period of ten minutes.
The red haired teenager rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she turns away from the sleeping blonde girl. Knowing she'll have to nicely force Polly up and out of bed, Lydia walks across the girl's bedroom — towards the two large shut windows in her room — and slides open the curtains, allowing the sun to finally shine through into the dark bedroom. As soon as the sun hits Polly's face, she stirs in her bed, forcing herself up.
When she turns around she notices that the blonde has woken up. "Great, you're up!" Lydia happily exclaims with a large smile spread across her face. She walks back towards Polly's bed, and carefully tugs the blankets off her upper body, leaving her legs to stay covered. "It's the first day of senior year and I promised I'd help you get ready, so here I am. Come on, you go take a shower and I'll start by making your bed for you."
Lydia reaches both her hands forward, and wraps them around Polly's hands. With a tight grip, she forces the blonde girl out of her bed. And with a small shove, Lydia nudged Polly towards the bathroom that's attached to her bedroom.
She rubs her eyes, trying to clear her slightly blurry vision. "How'd you get into the house?" Polly stops in place, turning towards Lydia.
While Lydia begins to make Polly's bed, she answers her question without turning to face her. "Stiles has a spare key to all of our houses, it's weird if you think about it, but last night I asked him if I could borrow the one to your house, and surprisingly he gave it to me." She stops, and turns to face Polly. "Pollyanne, go take a shower, and wash your hair too. It'll be easier to style when it's clean." Lydia adds, using her full name, knowing Polly only allows her to use it, and only when they're in private.
Reluctantly, Polly turns around once again and walks towards her bathroom, leaving Lydia to continue making her bed. Once she shuts the bathroom door she walks further in. She turns on the shower, twisting the handle all the way towards the hot. While the water warms, she strips herself from her clothes, tossing them to the side. When she can see the steam forming from behind the curtain, she steps into the shower, allowing the hotness of the water to burn her skin, and relax her muscles. Polly takes her time taking a shower. She gently runs her fingers through her hair, lathering her scalp with shampoo and then conditioner. The water splatters across the ground when she rings the products out of her hair, leaving it to be silky smooth.
As the blonde takes her time in the shower, Lydia too takes her time with her task — neatly making Polly's bed. She flattens her blankets, and fluffs her pillows; making the bed how she makes her own bed, knowing Polly doesn't care how her bed is made. Once she quickly finishes her easy task, she heads towards Polly's closet and the bags she had brought into the room. She digs through the girls closet and dresser, finding items of clothing, and pairing them together, trying to form any cute outfits she can make.
After nearly twenty minutes, the bathroom door swings open and Polly exits from the steaming room. Her small towel fits tightly around her naked body, covering everything that needs to be covered, while her wet hair sticks to her partially wet shoulders. Lydia doesn't realize when Polly walks out, instead she's stuck in her own fashion world, continuing to go through the girls closet, giving Polly time to walk towards her freshly made bed. Polly cautiously walks through her room, stepping around all the articles of clothing that are spread out across her bedroom floor, then takes a seat on the edge of her bed. For a few minutes, Polly watches Lydia finish making outfits, adding anything extra to them.
Tilting her head, "Why are there multiple?" Polly asks, nodding towards the five outfits that are spread out across her hardwood floor.
Lydia sets down a pair of shoes next to the final outfit, then turns to Polly. "You need options to choose from, everything knows that." She makes one final glance at the outfits she's made, making sure there's nothing that needs to be added. She pushes herself off the ground and walks towards Polly, taking a seat on the bed next to her. "Go ahead, try them on. You can be honest and tell me which ones you like and don't like."
Polly allows her eyes to carefully scan each outfit. She looks through the clothing items that Lydia has chosen for her. Throughout the five outfits there's a mix of every clothing item you could possibly find. Shorts. Skirts. Jeans. As well as leggings. Sweaters. Tank tops. Cardigans. And long sleeves too. High heels. Boots. Flats. And even running shoes. The clothing items are a mix of Polly's and Lydia's.
"This is what you teenagers wear to school nowadays?" Polly turns towards Lydia. "It's a bit degrading for school... is it not?"
Lydia nods, understanding where she's coming from. "Okay, yeah, maybe the stilettos are a little bit too much... especially since your mentality is from like a hundred years ago." Lydia lowly states. She pushes herself off the bed and leaves Polly's side. She walks towards the clothes on the floor, and crouches down to pick up her favorite pair of high heels off the ground.
"Lydia, I think your shoes are lovely. I could wear them a different day... if you'll allow me, but I've never been to a real school, so I don't think stilettos are appropriate for this specific occasion."
She slowly nods, "What about those? Would you be willing to wear heeled boots?" Lydia nods towards her second favorite outfit that she's put together. "It's less promiscuous, but you'll still look sexy, and all the boys will be drooling over you."
"Yeah... boys." She murmurs, glancing at the outfit Lydia's standing in front of, Polly nods, "Sure. Yeah, I'll give that one a go."
Lydia smiles, "Okay!" Polly returns the smile.
She pushes herself off her bed and walks towards her dresser that's located across the room, needing to pick out a pair of underwear to wear. Behind her, Lydia delicately places the single chosen outfit onto the bed, then begins to put all the other outfits back in their respective places; keeping Polly's room the way it was when she first walked in. Not caring that she's not alone, she drops her towel to the ground, and slowly slips on the pair she's chosen. No longer wearing her towel, she walks towards her bed once again. She pauses. Polly takes a single second to stare at the outfit that's been chosen for her. She stops to think for a moment. Out of all the many years she's been alive — one hundred-eighteen years — she's never once had the opportunity to choose an outfit for a first day of school, nor had she never had a friend who are willing to help her get ready for a big day, like her first day of senior year. For a short moment, despite the ginger being occupied in the opposite direction, Polly glances towards Lydia, a tiny smile on her lips; thankful for the girl who stands besides her.
As soon as Lydia turns to face Polly, Polly quickly turns away, looking down at the outfit that's in front of her; attempting to act natural. Just like she did while showering, Polly takes her time getting dressed, knowing that they're not in a rush. Finally, once Lydia finishes cleaning up the mess she's made, she walks towards Polly's bed, and flops down into the middle of the mattress. The girl easily gets comfortable while she watches Polly change, making sure the outfit looks how she pictured it — it looks better than she originally had expected. All while Polly finishes getting ready, Lydia talks to her, informing her how her first day of school will go, and what she needs to know about high school, especially during this century. All to which Polly reply's by saying high school is stupid and she doesn't need to go because technically she's much older than high schoolers, and she could be their great, great grandparents.
Thankfully, after more than thirty minutes, the two girls are completely done getting ready. A large chunk of their time consisted of Lydia showing Polly new products and how to use them, all while the blonde allows her to do whatever the redhead please, despite the fact that everything she's being 'taught' by Lydia, she has already taught herself many years ago. But still, not wanting to ruin Lydia's fun, she allows the red head to ramble on and on about her favorite cosmetology products — consisting of hair products, skin care products, and makeup products. Even though Polly's done a lot of things in her life, she can't bring herself to tell Lydia that she knows exactly what she's talking about, so instead she plays dumb.
Just before leaving the McCall house, both Polly and Lydia stand besides each other, in the girls bathroom, taking a moment to look at themselves in the mirror. Lydia not only checks herself out, but she also checks out Polly, sending multiple compliments her way, enjoying the subtle smile that creeps onto the blonde's face when she does so.
—
—
The young teenage girl sits quietly, her arms crossed in front of her chest, in a cushioned seat, inside one of the few counselors offices. On the large desk in front of her lays a single tan colored folder, with multiple white papers popping out of the edges, revealing few words that she can read from a distance. An older woman with auburn colored hair sits ahead of her, looking down at the now closed folder, no longer needing to read the documents to know about the blonde who sits ahead of her. Unlike most teenagers, Polly doesn't shift uncomfortably in her seat, instead she hardly moves a muscle, her mind roaming lost in her thoughts. She keeps her mouth shut, not saying a word, all while keeping her eyes locked on Ms.Martin — Lydia's mother — listening to what she has to say.
She places her elbows on her desk, and folds her hands into one another. "Miss.Young, from my understanding you've transferred schools your senior year, across the world, correct?" She simply nods in response, knowing that the woman is completely left in the dark when it comes to anything supernatural related — in this case, Polly's situation as well. "It's a very big change, being a foreign exchange student, and it can be hard to get a good grasp on everything when you're not from this country. So if you have any questions whatsoever or need any help, I, myself, along with all the teachers and students in Beacon Hills High are here to help. We want to ensure that your experience here is as good as it possibly can be." She sweetly says, giving the blonde girl a smile, fully aware that Polly and Lydia are friends — she thinks it's because Polly is staying with the McCall family who are close friends with her daughter.
Polly purses her lips and nods once again.
Since Lydia is standing outside of her mothers office, Ms.Martin keeps her words short, aware that her daughter wants to help her around the school. "Do you have any questions about anything, I'll gladly answer. Classes? Classroom locations? Sports? Anything at all?" She wants to make sure the teenager is okay and not confused.
Polly shakes her head, giving Ms.Martin the idea that she's not one for speaking — which is correct, Polly doesn't like speaking to people unless she knows she can put her trust in them, and they won't betray her; hence why she only speaks to a small group of people, and no randoms from the street.
With a small nod and a few words of encouragement from Ms.Martin, Polly excuses herself. She pushes herself out of her seat, grabs her bag, and heads for the door. Only then, when the woman meets her at the exit and opens the door for her, Polly finally murmurs a quiet thank you, appreciating her nice manners — something she hardly received when a child.
Polly waits a second after the door shuts behind her, her eyes planted on the red head in front of her. When Lydia hears the door close, she looks up from her phone, and smiles when she notices the tall blonde in front of her. "Was she nice to you?" Lydia pushes herself away from the wall, and turns her full attention to Polly. "I hope she didn't bombard you with questions, she has a tendency to do that, and I know you're not fond of answering questions... I already talked to her about that, I'm sorry if she did."
Lydia bites her bottom lip when Polly doesn't respond right away. Just as she's about to continue, Polly speaks. "You signed me up for advanced placement classes." Polly calmly states, not questioning her words.
She hesitates, "Well, AP World History seemed to make the most sense with all things considered, that was Malia's idea. AP Psychology was my idea, I think you'll really excel in that class. And, yes, I know you don't like it when Stiles voices his opinion, but AP Forensic Science was his idea, he thinks that the class will be an easy A for you, since... you know. We know you don't like the idea of high school, so that's why we picked classes that'll be easy for you, but also a slight challenge."
Polly nods, "...And yoga." She bluntly states.
Lydia clears her throat, "You'll have that class with me. The teacher allows her students to sleep during that period, so you can rest a bit if you want."
"I won't."
Lydia nods, "Okay, then you don't have to. Polly, remember, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Besides, yoga is very beneficial. It's calming, and it helps with people's anxiety and anger – instead of punching Stiles, you can do warrior two then transition into downward dog... who knows, maybe the class can be helpful."
Polly doesn't respond immediately. She takes a moment to look around the hallway they're standing in. She looks at every student who's walking past them, trying to pinpoint one of the few people who knows; but there's no one. She turns back to Lydia, "You don't have to come here early just for me, Kira told me you don't have a first period class. I can figure this place out by myself... can't be too hard considering I've escaped Eichen without being noticed."
A smile slowly takes over Lydia's facial expression. "Okay, Miss. Show-off." She pushes her hair out of her face, and repositions the bag that's draped over her shoulder. "Come on, Malia said she wanted to see you before the bell rings."
__
Student's voices surround her, but she pays no mind to them. Their words have no meaning to her, just like how her words likely have no meaning to them; there's no use giving her attention to them. Instead she simply tunes everyone out, and stays inside her own mind, thinking to herself. Just like most days, her mind runs all over the place, unable to focus on just one thing. Polly takes her sweet time walking through the school's large library. Her eyes scan up and down the tall shelves full of books, and her fingertips graze the spine of the few books that catch her eye. Unlike her right hand, her left arm is occupied with carrying multiple books, stacked on top of one another – half she needs for school, while the other half are for her own pleasure.
Minding her own business, a single finger gently taps on her right shoulder, drawing her attention away from the literary fiction section. With a huff, she turns her attention away from the shelf and towards whoever tapped her. To her surprise, Malia stands behind her with her arms crossed, and a small bag in her hands.
Malia wraps her arms around the bag, pulling it closer to her body. "So, how's your day been so far?" She asks, her voice full of genuineness.
Polly sighs, "дерьмо."
"Shit?" Malia asks. For her own sake, as well as Polly's, this summer Malia took time out of her days to teach herself Russian; with the help from Polly, Lydia, and Google. The short harried girl decided to learn Polly's mother language so she can understand the blonde when she speaks her main language – something she tends to do when she's angry or very concentrated on something. She has yet to 'fully master' the language, but she has managed to memorize many phrases; mostly ones that she hears Polly use on a daily basis. Polly nods in response – the girl's translation being correct – then Malia does after. "Yeah, I don't like school either."
She doesn't respond, instead she simply nods once again. She then reluctantly turns back to the shelf that's ahead of her, her eyes searching for the book she was planning on checking out – something she can finish within a few hours at most. Just as she reaches her hand out to grab the book,
Malia speaks up once again, "Okay, not in the mood for talking, I see." Her voice comes out quieter than expected; it's obvious she's talking to herself more than she is to Polly. "Well, I'll just leave you be, then." She pauses, but when Polly doesn't move or speak, she turns around and heads in the opposite direction.
Polly stands frozen. She stops in place. Her hand rests on the top of the book, not pulling it back nor pushing it in place, and her eyes stay on her hand. For a split second, Polly thinks to herself, she tries to understand why she's suddenly unable to speak to Malia without getting nervous. Gathering a handful of courage once again, she leaves the book in its place, then sets down the handful of books she's holding; remembering where she's placed them. Following in Malia's footsteps, Polly chases after her; fully aware of the eyes that are watching her every movement – Scott and Kira being two of them since Malia is walking back to the table they're all sharing.
Polly reaches out and very, very gently wraps her hand around Malia's wrist, forcing the girl to turn towards her; face-to-face. "I do." Polly states. She glances around the room, instantly regretting the volume of her voice; hating the amount of eye's that are trying to hide the fact they're watching them. "Malia, I do want to talk to you." She quiets her voice, now whispering. "I just– I'm not good with talking to people about normal day-to-day things. It's only recently that I'm able to speak to people freely – on my own will. I'm used to just grunting or nodding... that's not an excuse, I'm sorry."
She sweetly smiles. "I want to talk to you too." Noticing the hint of anxiety in Polly's scent, Malia jerks her chin forward – towards the bookshelf she had originally found her standing behind – and encourages her to once again follow in her footsteps.
With Polly trailing behind Malia, the younger girl takes her away from the nosy eyes, and leads her to where she left her books. Malia scoops them into her hands, and turns back to Polly. She keeps the blonde's books in her hands, and without exchanging any more words, they turn back around and head to their table – fully aware that Kira and Scott had been watching them from a distance. Adding furthermore onto Polly's confusion, Malia doesn't say anything more to her, but when they make it to their table she places Polly's books down then exchanges a small conversation with the couple whom they're sitting with; leaving Polly to observe quietly.
The short conversation doesn't last long. By the time the two girl's take a seat, Kira and Scott have already turned back to each other to finish their original conversation about class; allowing the two girls to sit in silence. Still, no more words are exchanged between the two as Malia digs through her bag to pull out her text book. Unlike the other three teenagers, – all of which are using their free period to study and do homework – Polly leans back in her seat and simply watches Malia. Not in a creepy-stalker sort of way, but she merely observes the way a tiny frown fills Malia's lips as she tries her best to understand what she's reading in her history book. This also doesn't last long, feeling Polly's eyes on her, Malia glances away from her book and turns towards Polly.
She smiles, a soft shade of pink fills her cheeks. "Poll, we don't have to speak if you don't want to. I know you prefer silence over anything else, and that's okay... Besides, I like sitting in silence when I'm with you, you make it a calming silence." Malia whispers to Polly. "Don't overstep your boundaries just to speak to me, it's fine if you want to be alone or not talk."
To their own surprise, the two girls are awfully like one another. Despite trying her best to keep it a small secret, it's very obvious that Malia has a soft spot for Polly, and no one else. It's something that the two are oblivious to, but everyone else can see it. It's the little things that she does for her, but isn't willing to do for anyone else. It's the way Malia quietly whispers to Polly, allowing them to have their own conversations without the fear of anyone listening to them. It's the way she can easily comfort the blonde when no one else can. It's the way she's willing to learn a whole new language – specifically Russian, a language that many people struggle to learn – just so she can understand her better when no one else can. And most importantly, it's the way she's always there to make Polly feel normal when she feels out of place.
As always, Polly doesn't immediately respond, instead she simply nods; hiding the tiny smile that's spreading on her lips. She turns away, and keeps her eyes focused on her own textbook, unable to get rid of the way her stomach flips in summersaults.
Doing what Polly does best, the two girls don't exchange anymore words, instead they sit in silence. Seated next to one another they stay focused on the work that's placed in front of them. Even though Polly isn't fond of school, – the aspect of having to be retaught everything she already knows – she forces herself to follow through with the promise she made to Melissa McCall.
Yes, she is technically old enough to be Melissa's grandmother, she still promises her that, despite the knowledge she already holds, she'll try her best to be a normal teenager and succeed in her classes.
All four of the teenagers – Scott, Kira, Malia, and Polly – sit besides one another; eyes fixated on what work they've been assigned. The couple to the right quietly whisper to one another, while Malia and Polly only make small talk when they need help; overall they choose to stay quiet so they don't disturb themselves and anyone who's near. The two girls stay next to each other, only inches apart, neither touching nor gossiping; simply studying. But what Polly has yet to realize – she is stuck in her own mental world – is that Malia, unlike the blonde, isn't focused on the work in front of her. No, instead she leans against the table, chin resting on her open palm, and her eyes trained on the blonde, solely watching her very, very serious facial expression; her gaze not once leaves the words that she's reading.
Oddly enough, it doesn't matter what Polly does or not-so-often says, Malia is always willing to simply sit at her side, and watch as she does almost anything and everything; just watching the way she does things. She doesn't do it because Polly does things in a weird way, but instead she watches the older girl because she finds her interesting. After all, she is just a girl who was never given her basic human rights, so everything – task's people do in their day-to-day life – she does, she has to reteach herself; basically changing herself, in a way that doesn't change herself too much. There's no specific reason why she enjoys admiring Polly – it's something that she, herself, wouldn't be able to explain if someone asks her, because she doesn't even know the answer herself. It's like an instinct, she admires Polly the same way she admires Stiles.
Abruptly, Stiles storms into the library and rushes towards the table where his friends are seated. Noticing his dedication, the three turn away from their textbook and look up at him. To Malia's surprise, she nervously looks away from Polly and turns to her boyfriend, hoping he didn't see the way she was the only one who wasn't doing anything – he thankfully didn't.
The boy doesn't sit down, instead he stays standing — he's too jumpy to actually sit down and take a breather. Stiles aggressively slams down two documents onto their table, and flips them around so the four can look at what he's showing them. Scott is the first to lean forward. "So you found something?" He asks, glancing up at his best friend, then back down to the two papers.
Stiles nods, his eye's buzzing with excitement. "Another signature." Stiles leans closer to the group, as they lean closer to him. Unlike the others, Polly stays where she's seated, her eyes still focused on her textbook, ignoring whatever the boy is saying; not caring to listen to his annoying voice. He continues, "This is Theo's dad's signature on a speeding ticket from eight years ago." He points to a white piece of paper. "And this is his dad's signature on a transfer form to Beacon Hills High School from just a few days ago." He then slides his fingers across the green paper.
Kira looks at Stiles suspiciously. "How did you get his transfer form?" She asks, already knowing the answer.
He sighs, "Did you break into the Administration Office?" This time Scott asks a question.
The boy rolls his eyes, pure annoyments showing through his face. "No, I did not break into the Administration Office." He states matter-of-fact, but when the three look at him with a face that says we don't believe you he sighs and continues. "Okay, I might've broken into the Administration Office. Can we focus on the signatures, please." He slides the two papers apart, comparing them to one another. "They're different."
The three friends who are paying attention take their time to examine the signatures, struggling to see what Stiles see's. "They're sort of different." Malia hesitantly states, trying to ease into saying they don't see anything, and he's making a big deal out of nothing.
He sighs at their stupidity. "They're completely different." He loudly exclaims.
It's only a second later that Stiles detects that the blonde girl sitting next to his girlfriend isn't listening. Once again she's in her own world, eyes still scanning her text book, not paying attention to a single word he's saying. The boy rolls his eyes as he glances at Scott and Malia, wondering how they're able to stay so calm with her. He turns away from them, then glances at Polly; his eyes showing large amounts of irritation.
"Polly." He says, attempting to draw her attention away from the book and onto him.
She doesn't move. Polly doesn't say anything, nor does she look up at him. Instead she simply ignores his annoying little voice, and shakes her head; a way of telling him to leave her alone. But he doesn't stop, he continues to say her name over and over; needing her opinion on what no one else sees. Making sure no one catches her, under the table Malia gently nudges her knee into Polly's, making the blonde turn away her book and to the werecoyote. Malia jerks her chin towards Stiles, her eyes not leaving Polly's. Doing as Malia wants her to do, Polly finally looks up at Stiles, not caring to hide the annoyment that's shining through her face.
Stiles takes the papers away from three and slides them in front of her. She doesn't look down, her eyes stay on him. "I hate to ask this – because it's you, Polly – but what do you think about this? You're an expert at catching and killing bad guys, do you see the very obvious difference in these signatures?" He asks, making sure to show how much he dislikes having to ask her for her opinion.
Her face stays still, very stern. "I'm also very good at cutting people's eyes out...but you don't see me helping anyone who asks me to do it." Polly states in a monotone voice.
Scott runs his hands over his face. "Polly, we talked about this!" He warns her.
Polly keeps her eyes on Stiles' eyes – very obviously glaring at him. Neither of the two turn away, keeping the tense eye contact. She places her pen down inside her textbook, then reaches out to pull the two documents closer to her. Aware that the four of them are watching her, Polly straightens her spine, now leaning over the table to read the papers. The two documents lay side-by-side, allowing Polly to look over them both; comparing the two signatures that Stiles stole.
Polly hums in response, slowly nodding her head. For a quick second, she runs her finger over the signature on the white paper. "The garland's don't match... and the undulations of the sinuous stroke are a bit off." She states. She slides the records back to the middle of the table, allowing them all to go over the documents again, trying to see what she sees.
For once the two can agree on something, and to his surprise it's about something that no one else can agree on – there's something fishy about Theo Raeken. Stiles doesn't try to hide his joy. He jumps up with his arms in the air, a loud laugh escapes from his lips; making students near turn to face their table.
"Finally! God, finally, someone understands!" He exclaims. Immediately, when he notices that Polly is once again looking at him with pure disgust, he frowns, and goes back to not wanting anything to do with her. "This," He turns to the other three, signaling the papers. "Perfect example of the Criminal Tremor."
Kira takes one look at the paper, then back at Stiles. "So now, Theo is Theo, but his parents aren't his parents?" She asks, trying her best to understand what Stiles wants them to understand.
"Someone's not someone. And when I figure out who that someone really is, someone's in really big trouble." He squints his eyes, looking at each of the four again.
Scott leans back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his body. "But no one's done anything wrong."
"Yet." Stiles turns his full attention to Scott. "If Theo's parents are both psychotic killers then obviously, we should not trust him, right?"
"My parents are Peter and the Desert Wolf." Malia glances at Polly, then up to Stiles again.
Knowing what the girl means – if Theo can't be trusted because of his parents, does that mean that Malia can't be trusted too – each of them turn away from her and to Stiles. For a moment, he looks down at his girlfriend, face completely blank, fully aware that he's contradicted himself.
"Okay..." Stiles sighs, dragging the syllables of the word out. He looks away from Malia, and rubs the temple of his forehead; a headache starts to form. "It's fine. You know what? I'll just figure this out myself. Right? I don't need you or you or you, and I most definitely don't need help from you!" He takes the papers away from their grasp, turns around, and walks away from them all. "I don't need anyone!" He shouts, wailing the papers in the air.
Once the doors slam shut behind Stiles, Polly slowly turns to Malia. "Your boyfriend is very aggravating, and if you'd allow me, I'd take pleasure in breaking his nose... he shouldn't be allowed to speak to you that way, it's disrespectful." She states, her face showing just how serious she is.
Malia tries her best to hide the smile that's forming on her face. A soft shade of pink slowly creeps on her cheeks. Not wanting Polly to see her blush, she turns away from the blonde and looks back down to her textbook, letting her hair fall from behind her ears, forming a curtain around her face. "No, Polly, it's okay." She glances up at her, but when she sees Polly is still staring at her she looks away again. "He didn't mean it in a disrespectful way."
Polly nods, pursing her lips. "Okay... My offer still stands whenever you need it." She gives Malia a small smile – despite her not looking at her – then follows in her lead and turns back to her textbook.
__
The two girls – Polly and Malia – sit directly in front of each other, a small table is the only thing that keeps them apart. Both their hands and minds are occupied, focusing on the chess board that's placed between them. To Polly's surprise, it didn't take much convincing to convince Malia to allow her to teach her how to play the strategic board game.
Malia sighs. She glances up at Polly then back down to the board, confused as to how she's winning when she's only just learned how to play the game when Polly's had many years to master the art of chess. Once again Malia looks up at Polly. "Do you trust Theo?" She randomly asks.
Her eyes stay on the board. She moves her king one space to the left, giving Malia the perfect opportunity to get a checkmate. Polly shakes her head. "No." She simply states, taking a sip out of the tea Malia had made her.
Malia keeps her eyes on Polly, watching the way her throat moves when she swallows the warm liquid she made just for her despite not liking tea herself. "Well, why not?"
"I don't trust people, Malia." Polly says, finally looking at her.
"You trust me." Malia frowns.
"You've proved that I can trust you."
Malia tilts her head. "So once Theo proves he's trustworthy, then you'll trust him?"
Polly shakes her head. "No." Malia looks at her with confusion spread all across her face. She continues. "For once I do agree with Stiles. I'm not sure what it is yet, but there is something off about that Raeken boy." She pauses; hesitates before continuing. "It's the way he communicates and speaks, as well as his body language and his motives... that's what makes it obvious that he's untrustworthy."
"Are you going to work with Stiles to prove he's guilty of something?" She questions, playing with the spoon that's inside Polly's cup.
"The likelihood of that is very slim."
Malia lowly nods. She turns back to the chess board, and analyzes the pieces that are still in play. She thinks back to what Polly has told her about the game, more specifically how to win the game.
The second she notices her eyes widen and her jaw drops. She quickly moves her piece into the square it belongs to. "I did it!" She exclaims, and turns to look at Polly. "That's the thing you told me. That's the matecheck... checkmate! Did I beat you?" Polly simply nods. Malia gasps. She instantly jumps out of her seat, unable to control her excitement. "I beat you! Polly, I beat you! I won chess! Oh, my God, Polly, I beat you chess!"
Polly simply nods once again. She leans back in her chair, and watches Malia celebrate her win – the win of a game that takes time and strategic smarts. Polly doesn't say anything, instead she watches the girl jump up and down in excitement. Despite trying her best not to, Polly's unable to hide the smile that's forming on her lips.
Allowing Malia to win the game is one of the best decisions that Polly could've made, because her reaction is something she'll now have in the back of her mind...on repeat.