Dark Side of the Moon

The rest of the first week went by without incident.

My father acted as though the night in the woods had never occurred, giving it ever more of a dreamlike quality.

I walked all the way to Stiles’ jeep without being attacked which felt like a vast improvement.

And if that wasn’t even to rejoice about, Scott made first line on lacrosse.

Stiles was being the support best friend, but I could see the wheels turning in his head. I had thought the ridiculous werewolf discussion was over until after school on Friday when Stiles accompanied me to the jeep.

“How much do you know about lycaons?”

“What?” I grinned, “You’re not serious, right?”

“Fully serious.” He countered, expecting a real answer from me.

“Uh, only what I’ve seen on Buffy or read in Twilight.” I shrugged. “So, not much.”

“Come on, Mase. You major in, like, everything.” He pleaded.

“I major in nonfiction. Werewolves don’t exist. Scott’s not a werewolf. End of story.” I said plainly, “So, drop it.”

He huffed but obeyed. I knew he wasn’t going to drop it and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was jealous of Scott’s newfound popularity and achievements. We didn’t speak until he dropped me off.

“So, have you changed your mind about the party?”

“I survived the week, didn’t I?” I cracked a smile. “I’m going with Scott.”

“I thought he was going with Alison.” Stiles blurted defensively. I raised a brow, just staring at him.

“Yeah, I’m going with both of them.” I mused.

“Well, see you there.” He said distantly, staring out the windshield.

He drove off before I could answer him. “Bye, then.” I massaged my temple, feeling a Stiles-related headache coming on.



“Mom, I’m not having the safe sex talk with you!” Scott cried, laughing slightly. I was sprawled out over Scott’s bed watching the mother-son bicker-fest.

“Oh no, I was talking about keeping the tank full! Give me those back,” She snatched the keys out of his hands. I willed Scott to stop talking.

“I’m not going to end up on some TV show about my son’s teen pregnancy!” She announced giving Scott a stern motherly look that almost made my heart ache. Observing him and his mother is the only time I ever missed my mom. I usually tended to repress.

“Be safe,” Mrs. McCall kissed her son’s forehead as she looked seriously at each of us.

“Always are, Mrs. McCall.” I assured her.

She hugged me lightly, “How many times have I told you to call me Melissa?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I waved my hand in the air evasively. She barked out a laugh.

“Home before eleven-thirty.” She disappeared before Scott could argue. Scott stood in his room, his mouth opened with a response that was never released, dressed in nothing but a towel.

“Put some pants on,” I chucked the outfit I had picked out for him to wear on his first date. He rolled his eyes but complied.

He came out of his bathroom again fully clothed. “Damn,” I muttered into my hand with a smile.

“Shut up,” He guffawed, blushing.

“Let’s go get your girlfriend.” I teased, throwing the keys at him (which he caught with incredibly fast).

“She’s not my—” He argued.

But, I was out the door, ignoring his rebuttal.



The party was in full swing when we arrived.
I spotted Stiles jeep a few cars down. I said my good-byes to the adorable couple and headed off into the booming house stag. Some Kids of 88 remix was blaring from the speakers as kids were dancing or drinking out of red solo cups. I scanned the crowd for Stiles but came up empty.

Feeling a little claustrophobic, and sick of being bumped into everywhere I went in the house, I stepped out into the yard. The scene was the same, but the music was less intruding and there was more room to walk.

I looked around expectantly for Stiles, but someone else caught me eye: Derek Hale. He was glaring intently at someone standing a few feet away from me. I turned my head to see Scott in a staring contest with Derek. Allison was smiling and talking with Lydia Martin until she noticed Scott’s stiffened presence. She nudged him, asking him something, and his attention went back to her. I looked up at the gate and Derek had mysteriously vanished.

Without really thinking, I swiftly jogged to the iron gate. I pushed it open with a unnoticed squeak and rushed out into the street.

There was a row of nice houses on one side of the street and a park leading into more of the forest that surrounded Beacon Hills. I could hear Stiles’ and Scott’s warning ringing in my head, but I pushed forward, the only light was streaming from the street lamps.

I reached the playground before my adrenaline began to fade and I was left alone in the outskirts of the forest. I could hear the faint pumping of the music and I was praying that Scott had seen me leave.

The playground seemed to be alive with invisible children: the swings were swaying back and forth as the merry-go-round was slowly twirling around. I cursed myself for coming out here in the dark, alone. I wasn’t even sure why I had tried to follow Derek or what I would do if I ran into that wolf again

I turned to head back to the party, chills radiating through my body, when I realized someone was watching me. Derek was suddenly standing in front of me, causing me to let out a screech of terror and clutch my heart.

“What are you doing out here?” He demanded, his expression hidden in the dark.

I gulped for air, trying to get my heart to rest, “You just scared the shit out of me,”

He didn’t respond, I could only imagine his stony expression.

“When did you get back in town?” I questioned timidly.

“Why?” He grunted, stepping closer.

“Just wondering,” I mumbled, “You’ve been gone for ten years and now you suddenly come back to town.”

“Something came up.” He replied shortly, crossing his arms.

I remained silent for a few moments, wondering what could possibly have come up to make him come back.

“I never got to say thank you,” I continued cautiously. He cleared his throat suddenly; his arms fell limply to his sides as he clutched his fist in tight balls. “Before you left….”

“Don’t mention it,” He said gruffly.

“You saved my life,” I muttered, taking a seat on one of the swings for something to do.

“I remember,” He responded, obviously wanting this conversation to end.

“You didn’t have to,” I coaxed.

“I know.” He said shortly, his figure was trembling slightly.

“Why did you?” I should have just left it alone.

“Should I have left you there to die,” He growled, “Like my whole family, like your mother.”

I sucked in a ragged breath as if to take back the question I’d asked. “No,” I countered in a small voice.

“Then let’s leave it at that.” He threatened. When I didn’t respond he strutted away, still clutching his fists.

“Thank you,” I called after him. He halted, almost as if he was going to say something, but he thought better of it and headed back up to the street.



I sat in the dark for awhile, calming myself down. Seeing Derek was like loosing my mom all over again. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my face from my hands. It was probably time to leave. I didn’t want to Scott getting in trouble, so I picked myself up off the swing and headed back to the party.

The party was still going on when I slipped back in through the gate. I grabbed a cup and sipped it, feeling thirsty. I choked a bit when I realized someone had spiked the drinks. Wiping my mouth I set the drink back down on the table, looking around.

“Where the hell have you been, Mason?” Stiles barked, grabbing my arm to face him. His face frighten and aggravated.

I threw his hand off me, fury rising in me, “What the hell, Stiles!”

Some people were starting to stare.

“Something’s wrong with Scott!” He whispered urgently, notices the looks we were getting.

“What? Did he commit a party foul and turn into a werewolf?” I snorted. Stiles, however, sent me a meaningful look.

“He was dancing with Alison and all the sudden he was running through the house sweating and trembling. I think he’s sick, or something,” Stiles worried.

“Did he go home?” I fretted.

“I think so,” He replied, grabbing my hand he continued, “Let’s go check on him.”

As he pulled me through the house, I noticed Alison was just now leaving, “He didn’t take Alison home?”

“No, I told you, he just bolted outta here!” We were almost out the door when I saw that Derek was the one escorting Alison home.

“What’s he doing?” I observed, stopping Stiles. He looked to where I was pointing too.

“I don’t know,” He said, scrunching his face in contemplation.



We sped all the way home. Stiles was only thinking about his best friend. I watched his determination the whole ride, mostly because I was going to be sick if I looked at the road.

The second we arrived at Scott’s house, Stiles catapulted out of the car and sprinted into his house. I followed close behind.

“Scott, open the door!” Stiles cried, banging on his bedroom door, “It’s us!”

“Go away,” He moaned from the other side of the door.

“Scott, what’s going on?” I begged, pounding on the door as well.

The door opened allowing a sliver of light to slip into his room. “Let us in, Scott! We can help!”

“No!” He was breathing heavily, “Listen, you gotta find Alison!”

“She’s fine. We saw her get a ride from the party.” I assured him.

“She’s totally fine.” Stiles said.

“I think I know who it is,” Scott panted.

“Scott, just let us in,” I pleaded.

“I can help you!” Stiles repeated.

“It’s Derek! Derek Hale’s the werewolf!” Scott cried, grunting slightly, “He’s the one who bit me! He’s the one who killed the girl in the woods!”

Things were starting to make sense. Derek had come to town and the next thing anyone knew, a girl was murdered in the woods.

There was a slight problem, though. Stiles caught my eye, looking horrified.

“Scott, Derek Hale is the one who took Alison home from the party.” There was silence and then the door slammed shut again. Stiles grabbed the handle, trying to pry it open.

He punched the door, “Scott?”

I heard his window open, “Scott!” Stiles yelled.

“He’s gone, Stiles,” I yanked on his jacket sleeve. “We gotta go to Alison’s to make sure she’s not there.”

We booked it to Alison’s house and I rang the doorbell repeatedly while Stiles banged on the door.

A pretty middle-aged woman with a pixie cut opened the door, “Can I help you?” She asked, clearly affronted.

“Hey, hi, Mrs. Argent,” I panted, out of breath from all the running, “We’re friends of your daughter, Alison—”

“This is gonna sound crazy,” Stiles laughed mechanically, “Really crazy actually, you probab—”

“Alison!” Her mother called up the stairs, “It’s for you.”

Stiles and I looked at each other, baffled. Those feelings intensified when Alison showed up by the banister.

Hey, guys,” She waved, “What’s going on?”