I do not own anything from Teen Wolf.

"This head won't quiet down

For a single thought

I'm all circle psychopathic

Barely up I just forgot that

I could say it right now,

I could make the time

People have been hoping and I'm finally breaking open."

—Anxious by Hippo Campus

Sawyer was barely able to concentrate the next day—she had stayed up until almost one in the morning trying to make connections. It had turned into a large conspiracy theory-esque mystery, and it was all she could think about.

If Derek really did kill his sister, She thought to herself as she rested her head in her hands, then w—

"Sawyer Duncan!"

Thump!

The classroom erupted into whispers and giggles as Sawyer's hands jerked out from under her head, causing her to face to land on her desk. All eyes were on her, including the teacher's critical ones.

"Sorry," she muttered. Sitting up, Sawyer shifted in her seat. Her face grew hotter and hotter even when the laughter died down.

Her teacher, Mrs. Copland, sighed and carded a hand through her hair. "That's okay, Sawyer. Just... make sure you're paying attention next time."

Clearing her throat, she looked at her pencil and nodded slowly.

Mrs. Copland sighed again and continued speaking. "As I was saying, these pairs will last for the rest of the year, so you'd better get comfy. Now, your first assignment is to read the first three chapters of The Giver by Monday. Be prepared to talk about it with the rest of the class."

The bell rang, and everyone began to leave. Sawyer gathered her things, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"What do you want, Lucas?" Sawyer asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

Smiling lazily, Lucas held his hands up in defense. "Hey, you heard what Mrs. Copland said," he joked. "We're partners, so you'd better get comfy."

Her eyes widened. "Wh—" Stopping herself, Sawyer forced her posture to relax. "Oh, okay. Um, I guess we should meet up to talk about it at some point over the weekend?"

Lucas's smile turned into a grin. "Yeah, actually," he slipped his phone out of his pocket, "I was wondering if I could get your number?"

"Um, s-sure," Sawyer responded, but her voice rose, making it sound like she was asking a question. Quickly, she typed her number into his phone and made her way out of the classroom and outside to her bike.

As she fiddled with the lock, someone came up from behind her.

"Sawyer! My favorite middle schooler, what a coincidence it is to see you here!"

Glancing up, Sawyer scoffed, "Stiles, this is the middle school. What are you doing here?" She unlocked her bike from the rack and began wheeling it forward.

Stiles slung an arm around her shoulder. "Walk and talk, kid," he muttered. "We've got a lot going on right now." He led her and her bike to an old blue jeep, and the two of them put her bike in the back.

As Stiles clambered into the driver's seat, Sawyer made her way to the back.

"You know you can sit shotgun, right?" Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Clearing her throat, Sawyer nodded sheepishly as she made her way into the front seat. "So what did you want to talk about?"

"Well, uh," Stiles pursed his lips while he started up the jeep. "Kinda funny, actually. Scott, uh... may have mauled a man last night."

"He WHAT—"

Stiles shook his head violently. "No no no, it's okay, the guy's still alive! And we don't know if Scott did it or not!"

Sawyer groaned. She was too young for this. "And this is okay, how?"

"Being hospitalized is better than being dead?" Stiles glanced over at the middle schooler. "Okay fine, I get your point. But my point is that we don't know it was Scott, and if it was him, we know he didn't do it on purpose."

"Fine," Sawyer huffed. "But now what?"

"Now—" Stiles paused. "I don't really know. I hadn't thought that far ahead, to be honest."

"Oh my god."

Stiles glared at her. "Shut up. For now, we just have to try to keep Scott in check."

"And how do we do that?" Sawyer crossed her arms.

"Dunno," Stiles shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." He pulled into the library parking lot. "Which is why we're here." Parking, he swung open the door and jumped out of the car. "C'mon, we're gonna do some research."

"Research on what?" Lydia Martin stood near the two, her head tilted expectedly.

Stiles jumped. "Hey, Lydia! Um, well—"

"He was gonna help me study!" Sawyer interjected. "For science."

"Yup!" Stiles nodded vigorously. "She's awful at it."

She glared at him, but she couldn't say anything. It was true, after all.

Lydia pursed her lips. "Hmm, I think not," she said simply.

"I—what?" Stiles asked, flustered.

"I think," Lydia continued, sauntering over to Sawyer, "that she will be coming with me."

Sawyer was almost as flustered as Stiles. "Wha—why am I going with you?"

Pouting sympathetically, Lydia replied, "Someone needs to take you under their wing. Someone to show you the ropes, to help fix your," she eyed Sawyer's striped sweater with slight distaste, "fashion sense."

Stiles gaped, while Sawyer recoiled disgruntledly. Eventually, she sighed. "I don't really have a say in this, do I?"

Lydia smiled, proud that the preteen was quick to catch on. "No." She put an arm around Sawyer's shoulders and began leading her to her car.

Stiles watched his life-long crush drag Sawyer away, rubbing the back of his neck. What the hell just happened?

Sawyer found herself sitting on Allison Argent's bed with Lydia while the brunette dug through her closet. Allison turned around and held up a shirt for the two of them to view.

Eyes widening, Sawyer nodded vigorously, only to stop when she noticed Lydia giving her a look.

"Mm, pass," Lydia answered.

Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Allison hung the shirt back up and pulled out another one.

"Pass." Lydia got up. "Let me see." She began to go through Allison's closet, and Sawyer watched, having no idea what was happening. "Pass. Pass. Pass on all of it. Allison, respect for your taste is uh, dwindling by the second. But," she shot Sawyer a look, "that's not to say you have the worst taste in this room."

Sawyer stuck her tongue out, but she was ignored as Lydia found a shirt at the back of the closet. "This," she declared triumphantly.

Allison held the sequinned shirt, examining it, when the door opened and Mr. Argent entered.

"Dad, hello?" Allison asked as though she was expecting something.

Mr. Argent paused. "Right. Sorry, I completely forgot to knock."

Lydia fell back on the beg, startling Sawyer. "Hi, Mr. Argent," the redhead greeted cheerfully. Sawyer waved shyly.

"Dad, do you need something?" Allison questioned, furrowing her eyebrows.

Mr. Argent sighed. "Well, first," he turned to the youngest in the room, "Sawyer, you're sure your mom knows you're here?"

Sawyer nodded. "Yes, sir," she replied. "I texted her and called her." She rubbed the the back of her head sheepishly.

"Good," Mr. Argent smiled briefly before turning back to his daughter. "And Allison, I wanted to tell you that you'll be staying in tonight."

"What? Dad, I'm going out with my friends tonight."

"Not when there's an animal out there attacking people." Mr. Argent argued.

"Dad, Dad, I—"

"It's out of my hands," Mr. Argent interrupted. "There's a curfew. No one's allowed out past nine-thirty PM."

Sighing, Allison threw the shirt on the bed in childish protest.

"Hey, no more arguing," Mr. Argent ordered as he left the room.

"Someone's Daddy's little girl," Lydia remarked teasingly once the door shut.

Allison crossed her arms. "Sometimes. But not tonight." She pulled a purple beanie over her head and stormed over to the window, pulling it open. Stepping out, she walked to the edge of the roof confidently.

"What are you doing?" Lydia asked as she and Sawyer rushed to the window. They got no reply other than Allison flipping off the roof and landing gracefully on the ground.

"Eight years of gymnastics!" Allison whisper-yelled up at the two. "You two coming?"

Lydia and Sawyer shared a look. "We'll take the stairs," the redhead replied.

Sawyer had no idea how she got to the bowling alley. Well, to be fair, she did know. She had been dragged into Lydia's car by Allison and the Queen Bee herself. What she was still clueless on was why she was there.

"How did we get here first?" Lydia demanded, pacing back and forth. "They should be here by now!"

"Scott's on his way!" Allison supplied helpfully, pocketing her phone.

Stepping between them, Sawyer demanded, "Who's 'they?' Why am I even here?"

"Duncan?"

Sawyer whipped around, looking for the source of the familiar voice. "Lucas?"

Lucas Martin stood not far behind her, next to a tall high schooler who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but there.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite cousin," Lydia smirked, practically skipping over to the pair.

"I'm your only cousin," Lucas deadpanned, not at all amused. "Seriously, what is going on?"

Sawyer threw her hands up. "Thank you!" She cried.

Lydia just smirked wider. "I figured you two could use some fun for once," was all she said before she grabbed the hand of the other boy and flounced towards the bowling lanes.

Looking up at Lucas, Sawyer furrowed her eyebrows in an unspoken question.

Lucas shrugged. "I don't know. It's probably best not to ask either. Lydia just does what she wants." There was a brief awkward silence before he spoke up again. "You wanna bowl?" He motioned to the lanes, where Allison was testing the different balls before settling on a lilac one.

"I, uh," Sawyer winced, "I'm not the best bowler, so I think I'll pass."

"Oh, thank god," Lucas muttered. "I hate bowling." His lips turned upwards into a slight smile when Sawyer giggled.

The two walked over to a vacant table and sat down, but not before ordering a large pizza and two sodas. While they waited, they watched the older teens bowl.

"I feel bad for Scott," Sawyer said, wincing when his ball all but flew down the gutter.

Lucas shrugged. "I mean, I feel a little bad," he agreed, talking around a mouthful of pizza. "But it's also pretty funny."

The two of them glanced back over to see Scott roll another gutter ball. Jackson's taunts grew louder and ruder as Scott made his way to sit down next to Allison. Shaking her head, Sawyer grabbed another piece of pizza. She had decided to ignore the older teens, and to just have fun.

Suddenly, there was another crash of pins, and Lucas shook her arm. "Dude, Scott just rolled a strike!"

Sawyer whipped her head around, and Lucas was right: Scott had bowled a perfect strike. The two shared a look.

"That was weird," Lucas remarked. "It's like he's suddenly a pro or something." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table in front of him.

"Yeah," Sawyer swallowed. "Weird." Was being miraculously good at bowling a werewolf skill? Sawyer didn't think so, but she was still pretty sure it was a major cause.

A little while later, Lucas shook her arm again, motioning to the bowling lanes. "Lydia just bowled a strike too." He leaned back in his seat. "Why is everybody so good at bowling except me?"

Sawyer laughed. "Don't worry—I suck, too."

The rest of the night went on like that; the two would exchange jokes while they ate their pizza and discuss Scott and Lydia's spontaneously developed bowling skills. Sawyer, surprisingly enough, realized she was enjoying herself. Lucas wasn't as bad as he had first seemed. As the bowling game drew to a close, and Sawyer found her eyelids growing heavier and heavier, Lydia offered to drive her home.

"Gotta make sure my little protege makes it home in one piece," The older girl teased as they climbed into her car.

"Thanks," Sawyer replied through a loud yawn. She rested her head on the seat-belt, but she kept her eyes open, choosing to watch the dark scenery fly by through the window.

All too soon, the drive was over, and Lydia pulled into Sawyer's driveway. She breathed a sigh of relief as she jogged up the steps when she realized that her mother still wasn't home yet. Waving to Lydia as she pulled out of the driveway, Sawyer grabbed the spare key from under the mat, opened the door, and bounded up the stairs to her room. Collapsing on her bed, she stared at the ceiling.

"How was that?" Donna asked from her position on the desk chair.

Sawyer paused a moment. How was it? "... fun," she replied eventually. "It was fun." A small smile formed on her face. She'd never enjoyed herself around other people before. That alone was a huge step. She was getting better. It was taking a while, but she was slowly coming out of her shell.

She felt her eyes close, and Sawyer Duncan fell asleep, a large smile on her face.