IknowitsbeenforeversinceIlastupdatedpleasedonthitme!

Wow. Yeeaaaahhh. So. This is a little awkward. Heh. How's it going? I'm good. These past MONTHS since my last update have been okay. Heh. Weeelllpp! There's Finstock being a weirdo in this chapter. Also Stiles. Because we all love Stiles and if you don't...Why are you reading a Stiles/OC fic? Just a heads up, this chapter's a little...well, choppy, for lack of a better word. My apologies!

Disclaimer: While I DO aspire to be the next Jeff Davis, I am currently not him, so, in conclusion, I do not own Teen Wolf. Pity, that.

After lunch, Bridget had found herself lost...Again. Allison had disappeared at lunch with vague directions, and Lydia had quickly flounced off, arm-in-arm with a friendly boy named Danny. James was with her again, keeping up a sarcastic commentary she really could have gone without.

"Jeez, this place is like a less happy version of East High." he suddenly said, pursing his lips and looking around. She gave him a blank look. "...High School Musical?" he tried. "'Let's go, Wildcats?'" Bridget just blinked uncomprehendingly. "'We're All in This Together?" She only frowned in confusion. "Nothing? Wow. Your childhood must have been depressing." he muttered.

She ended up rolling her eyes and dismissed him, having spotted her classroom. She chose to ignore James, knowing encouraging him any more would only make it worse. The small brunette hurried over to the door and pushed it open, hoping she wouldn't get berated too much for getting lost...For twenty minutes. James rolled his eyes and went in the opposite direction, disappearing like dust in the wind.

The man at the front of the class was short, maybe a head or two taller than Bridget's five foot four height, with dark brown hair sticking up in random places and wild eyes that seemed to bulge out of his head. He was yelling at someone named Greenberg to 'stop being a dumbass' when she entered, but quickly cut himself off when it became apparent everyone's attention was on the girl standing near the door uncomfortably.

"Can I help you?" the man—he wasn't the teacher, was he?—asked in a loud voice, turning to Bridget and peering at her curiously. She pressed her lips together to keep from flinching.

"Sorry," she apologized flatly. "I got lost." He snorted in agreement.

"Yeah, you did. Middle school's three blocks away, kid." A few students snickered, and most of the looks thrown her way were either highly amused and mocking, or sympathetic. She briefly made eye contact with a lanky boy with black hair falling over vibrant green eyes, and he gave her a tiny grin.

"...I'm sixteen, sir." she replied after a moment or two, returning her gaze to the loud man and speaking through her teeth, "And the new student. Bridget Swanson. Check the roster." she advised, hint of impertinence creeping into her tone as she fought the urge to add, "And I'm not small!"

"New student?" he asked, frowning. He grumbled under his breath as he snatched a clipboard off of the desk and flipped through it before realizing his attendance sheet was on top and peered at it closely. "Oh. Right. Swanson. Well, welcome to Beacon Hills." He gave her what was most likely intended to be a smile, but it came off more as a sarcastic grimace. "You can sit behind Stilinski."

Bridget shifted her gaze from the teacher—what was his name...Finstock!—and searched the sea of faces for anyone that looked like a Stilinski, or even responded. Instead, she was met with stares of interest, and one sleeping boy in the back. She turned to the coach again, opening her mouth, but he beat her to the punch.

"Stilinski!" Finstock barked. "Stop staring at the new girl and raise your hand!" There was a flurry of movement in the left half of the room, and Bridget became aware of a pale boy with a buzz cut and red splotches in lightly freckled cheeks flailing wildly, disturbing the papers on his desk.

"Sure thing, coach!" he called once he settled himself, raising his left hand in a 'cool guy' wave. Bridget blanked. She had to sit near...That? Someone whom she could already tell was severely uncoordinated and awkward? Not that Bridget was going to really judge...Casting an unsure look at Finstock, she slowly made her way over to the boy and slid into the seat behind him, barely seeing the sheepish grin he gave her.

"Now, what I'm wondering is why she got lost." the Coach said, giving the male students a hard look. Her cheeks started to heat up as he continued with, "A pretty new girl always needs help on her first day! Which one of you dumbasses is going to show her to her next class and make sure she gets here tomorrow?" he demanded. The boy with the black hair started to raise his hand, but Finstock quickly shot him down. "Greenberg, put your hand down! No girl would want to spend time with you, no matter how lost they are!"

Bridget pressed her lips together again, opening her bag to grab a pencil as the Coach proceeded to pass out a worksheet while still humiliating Greenberg. She briefly wondered what Greenberg had ever done to him. As a paper was handed back to her, she looked up, only to meet warm brown eyes. No, brown wasn't quite the right word. That was too bland. It was more like the color of maple syrup in the sunlight. The boy in front of her gave her an awkward, lopsided grin, but there was tenseness in his shoulders that she easily defined as wariness.

"Hi," he said, tone friendly despite how guarded his posture had suddenly become. "I'm Stiles."

Stiles Stilinski. What an odd name. She found herself attempting to return the smile, though she was sure it probably looked more like a grimace.

"Bridget." She introduced herself almost shyly, having not talked to many people other than Allison and a few teachers. He opened his mouth to say something else, eyes quickly wandering downward before returning to her face, but he was cut off by another aggravated call of "Stilinski!"

"Eyes up front!" Coach Finstock snapped when Stiles immediately whipped around, arms jerking slightly.

Finstock gave instructions for the worksheet, and then gave them their homework assignment as well before leaving them to their own devices. Bridget wasted no time getting to work, eyes scanning the worksheet in front of her as the people around her began talking in whispers. Stiles, in front of her, began talking to the boy next to him in a rushed voice, and, had Bridget been paying any attention whatsoever to anything going on around her, she would have noticed that she was the topic of discussion, and both boys were subtly stealing concerned glances at her.

Bridget went through the rest of economics without anything bad happening, finishing the assignment early and getting a head start on the night's reading. She was, luckily, spared of having to attempt small talk, and could sit in comfortable silence, wondering idly if she'd be able to get to her chemistry class without a problem. When the bell rang, she found that almost everyone raced out of the room, aside from Greenberg, Stiles, and his friend—who Bridget hadn't even looked at.

"Great, we've got Harris next." Stiles complained, tossing his backpack over his shoulder. Bridget took note of the fact that they shared their next class, but didn't speak, clutching her bag to her chest like she always did and making for the exit while Greenberg wandered towards Finstock's office.

"Just what we need." his friend agreed. Before she could escape out into the hall and try to find her way to her next class, Bridget was called back.

"Hey, Bridget!" Stiles called, tripping over a desk as he tried to catch up with her. She turned upon hearing her name, just in time to see him quickly right himself. "Who do you have next? We can show you, if you want."

He kept talking, but whatever he said next was lost on Bridget when she turned her eyes to his friend. Her face lost all its color and her heartbeat picked up, knuckles turning white as she gripped at her bag. Her mouth fell open, and, stomach turning, she whipped around and hurried out into the crowd, breathing uneven. Scott and Stiles stared after her, dumbfounded. The pale boy turned to his best friend, brow furrowed.

"Dude," Stiles started, "What the hell was that?" Scott shook his head, eyes still on the sea of people Bridget had lost herself in.

"I have no clue," he replied, tearing his gaze away and looking over at Stiles. "But she was scared."

Bridget unthinkingly rushed out of the school, scurrying away from the prying eyes of her peers and bursting outside. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her face had yet to regain any of its color. Shaking her head and squeezing her eyes shut, she ran down the concrete steps.

"Medication," she muttered to herself. "Medication sounds wonderful right now." Maybe...Maybe it was a bad idea, public school. When she'd turned and looked at Stiles' friend, she'd seen his smooth, tanned skin morph, his wide eyes change color, teeth elongate, and ears change shape until she was looking at the face of what she could only assume to be the Wolfman. "Medication is good." she continued to herself as she escaped school grounds and went in the direction she was positive her house was in.

She half expected James to make another appearance, armed with snarky comments and mocking sympathy, but everything around her stayed relatively quiet. Eventually, her heart calmed down and the panic that had been sliding in was slowly retreating, until she could finally think clearly. She was seeing more things than usual. The human-sized lizard, the man sitting next to Lydia who no one else seemed to notice, and then the boy who looked...like a wolf. Once again...Medication was looking very wise, and extremely helpful.

Bridget halted in her walking, realizing two things. First, she left school in the middle of the day without a legitimate reason, and, second, she had absolutely no clue where she was. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, her head swiveled from left to right, examining every house around her, every mailbox and flower bed...Nothing was familiar. And, naturally, she'd left her cellphone at home, since she despised the very idea of it, so she couldn't call Marion and be picked up.

She was about to turn around and wander back in the direction she came, when, suddenly, there was a young woman walking past her with mousy brown hair and brown eyes that seemed to hold a wisdom well beyond her years—which, upon assessment, couldn't have been more than twenty-seven.

"Excuse me," Bridget said, causing the woman to pause and look at her strangely. She almost seemed...Surprised. "I'm lost, and I was wondering if you could tell me where I am."

"...You can see me?" she asked, eyebrows lifting. Bridget shrugged.

"Well, I've been seeing a lot of everything today, so who knows at this point?" she asked, widening her eyes sardonically. The woman smiled, seeming a little amused, but there was curiosity glittering in the depths of her eyes.

"I'm guessing you're new to Beacon Hills?" At Bridget's nod, she laughed. "It figures. I can show you the way to wherever you're going, if you want?" she offered. Bridget hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Despite being in a world among giant half-breeds with infuriatingly long legs that carried them farther in a short amount of time, Bridget could run fast, if anything happened.

"I'd appreciate that." she said, giving the woman a smile. "My house is on Rochester, and I think I got a little turned around on my way home." The woman chuckled.

"Just a little. Rochester is almost two blocks away." she said, walking past Bridget and leading the way back up the street. "How long have you been here?" she asked when Bridget fell in step with her.

"Only a few days." Bridget told her, checking for oncoming cars before calmly walking across the street with the nameless woman.

"Family here?" Bridget shook her head at the question.

"No. It was for school." The woman nodded, not pressing Bridget on why, and instead changing the subject.

"So, you seemed a little freaked out earlier. What happened?" she wondered, tipping her head to the side and guiding Bridget to left when she strayed towards the right. The smaller brunette shook her head, letting her bag fall to her hip and wrapping her arms around herself.

"Let's just say that going to public school for the first time in a while got to me." she replied tiredly. The woman nodded, and they both fell silent.

Time seemed to stretch on as they wordlessly walked, and other than the tall girl stopping her from walking too close to a fence with two barking dogs, they didn't interact much, the older acting as a guide and the younger paying avid attention to every turn they made in case she happened to get lost. Trying to be discreet, Bridget examined the woman next to her.

She had to be young, but not too young. Older than Bridget, surely, but perhaps not quite as old as Marion. There was an air of supreme confidence about her, and Bridget had the strangest feeling that she was typically addressed with great respect. There were no lines on her face, and her eyes were large, though they were narrowed, perhaps because when they were wide open, they made her look childishly young? She was slender, athletically built, and she stood tall, towering over Bridget by at least seven inches. Her lips were chapped and seemed to be pursed most of the time. The overall sense Bridget got was that this woman was she was smart, confident, and probably a leader of some sort...But something did seem off about her...And Bridget got the feeling it had to do with the glances she kept stealing out of the corner of her eye.

After what seemed to be twenty minutes, they turned onto Rochester, and Bridget turned to the woman, who'd stopped her long-legged stride. The tall brunette gave her an easy smile, obviously sensing that Bridget absolutely did not want her to be walked all the way up to her house.

"Seem familiar now?" the older girl asked, tipping her head to the side. Bridget nodded, forcing her lips to curl upward into a grateful smile.

"It does, thanks. I would have been wandering around town for hours if you hadn't helped me." she replied, cheeks heating up slightly. The woman smiled.

"It's no problem." she said, walking backwards the direction they'd came. "Glad I could help."

Despite herself, Bridget called out for her as she turned. "Wait—what's your name?" she blurted out. The woman glanced over her shoulder, a half smile on her face.

"It's Laura!" she yelled, somehow already yards away, though it had only been seconds ago that she was right next to Bridget. "Laura Hale!"

Bridget nodded, a faint feeling of familiarity hitting her at the name. She blinked, and suddenly, Laura Hale was gone. Funny, that. She moved faster than Bridget had thought was possible. With a slight head shake, she spun on her heel and turned down Rochester.

Heh, so...Slight cliffy, huh? Well, not REALLY, but, I mean, I get the feeling some people would want to slap me for not updating in MONTHS and then, not only posting a WAY shorter chapter, but leaving it right there with MS. LAURA HALE. WASSUP?! Yeah. So. Sorry for not updating in like forever. See, I had issues with my computer, lost the entire story, and then just sort of lost motivation for a while. BUT I'M BACK! I can't say that I'll update soon, since I have to write chapter four and stuff, but YEAH. I AM HERE! I apologize for this chapter being worse than the other two, but yeah.

Anywaaay. THERE WAS STILES IN THIS CHAPTER. PLUS WEIRDO FINSTOCK AND, OH, YEAH, LAURA HALE. Wassup with that, man? I mean, Laura's dead. Bridget, girl, you cray cray. (Or is she...? :D) Okay, so, basically, yeah. CHAPTER THREE! If you want to check out my tumblr, kathryne-obrien (omg I changed my url from alec-freaking-bane how do I move on?!), for news on BTB and stuffs like Dylan's beautiful face and freaking out over The Maze Runner, YOU SHOULD GO THERE. And if you want to read another Stiles/OC fic of mine, check out In the Dark. (PS: I'm gonna fix all the typos in that, I swear.) Plus, keep an eye out for my Internship fic, if you love that movie like I do.

I shall leave you with two things! First, read kaljara's Ignite and Extinguish! It's reaching its end soon, and it's AMAZING. Second, MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES FOR PUTTING THIS ON AN UNANNOUNCED HIATUS.