Observe

You’re only there to observe, don’t get involved.

Those tedious words rang through the petite brunette sitting on the overly crowded set of bleachers facing the lacrosse game currently in-progress. It was the state championship game, a big deal in the marginally small town of Beacon Hills, California. The petite girl stayed seated as a boy with the jersey number twenty-four scored a panicked goal, leaving the home team only one goal behind the opposing one. The rest of the home crowd went wild, screaming, stomping their feet, shaking their signs declaring their love for the team or certain players.

“Janey,” A high-pitched voice lightly scolded the sitting girl. Jane lazily eyed the standing dark haired teen she had come with tonight. Her name was Marina and they had most of their classes together. She was one of the few people Jane could stand in the dismal town of Beacon Hills that had become her prison as of late.

“What?” Jane grunted with minor annoyance. She was only at the game to ‘observe’ and not get involved. Jane hated lacrosse. She hated people. She hated Beacon Hills and the drama that Scott McCall and all his little friends created. She hated that she wasn’t allowed to get involved. Jane hated a lot of things.

“Try and at least act like I didn’t drag you here.” Marina pleaded loudly over the booming crowd.

Sighing heavily with a clear look on disdain on Jane’s face, she stood up with everyone else and cheered on Scott McCall’s sidekick, Stiles, as he scored another miraculous goal. He was on a strange roll tonight. Maybe he was a wolf now, too.

To Jane, it felt as though everyone in Beacon Hills was a werewolf or had some other supernatural infliction.

At first, Jane had merely been sent to Beacon Hills to keep tabs on the Kanima. The Council of Advisors had been worried enough to send someone in to assess the damage but hadn’t felt it was enough of a problem to send an actual advisor in. On a scale of President of the Council to average citizen, Jane was about an intern. Her father was on the Council and he was raising her to be a good little advisor. But, she was young. At sixteen years of age, no one really took her as a serious advisor. Jane hoped that this trip would change something since there was so much more to Beacon Hills beneath the surface. And it all circled around the peculiar Scott McCall.

It was beyond Jane’s comprehension why the entire town of Beacon Hills was unaware of their werewolf epidemic. Jane’s first day at Beacon Hills had informed her just what was lurking around the halls of the high school. Neither Scott nor Stiles (nor anyone else, really) knew how to be secretive about things, or where to tell their secrets and the volume at which said-secrets were told.

Jane had been sitting in Chemistry, adjacent to Scott’s and Stiles’ wooden desks. Other than the fact that they were a little strange and on the lacrosse team, Jane didn’t know much about them. Until they started talking about the full moon that would occur the next night.

Jane’s ears had perked up, eying them curiously.

“So, you’re still going to Lydia’s party tomorrow,” Stiles had asked, “Even though it’s a full moon and the worst night possible for you to be out around people?”

Scott stared wide-eyed at his best friend, shrugging nonchalantly, “Yeah, what else am I supposed to do with Jackson running around?” His ‘whisper’ was easily carried to Jane’s listening ears.

“I’m really starting to hate this superhero complex you’re developing.” Stiles muttered darkly.

Mr. Harris—the tightly wound, contemptible chemistry teacher—walked by, eying the two boys accusingly. They dropped their gaze suspiciously, pretending to read the open textbooks on their desks. Stiles tapped his highlighter on the page like an irritating tick. Jane had licked her thumb and turned the page, making more noise then she wanted in the quiet room.

When Mr. Harris moved on, they continued their conversation like nothing had happened.

“Are you still opposed to my ‘kill-Jackson-the-Kanima’ idea?” Stiles tilted his head hopefully.

Scott sighed agitatedly, pursing his thin lips, “I’m not on board with your ‘let-Derek-and-his-pack-deal-with-Jackson’ plot either.”

Stiles bounced his jean clad knee repeatedly against the bar on his desk, slouching further into his seat, “You suck, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Scott mumbled, glancing at Mr. Harris’ prowling form apprehensively, “by you, on multiple occasions. Usually when Derek or Jackson are involved.”

Stiles raised his defined brows emphatically, “Good, just wanted to make sure we were at least on the same page about that.”

The bell rang shortly afterwards, ending that particular conversation. But, Jane overheard many more over the next few days, leading up to tonight. She felt like she knew everything about McCall and his ‘pack’. Jane felt like she was in his ‘pack’ because of his adherent lack of secret-telling skills (or maybe Jane was just a really good eavesdropper, it was hard to tell at times).

A week and a half in Beacon Hills and Jane knew every dark secret it held, all because it revolved around a sixteen year old boy with a big mouth and heart—who in turn blabbed it to his equally big-mouthed (and hearted) best friend in chemistry class.

She couldn’t really blame them. If Jane had just learned she was an advisor and had a best friend like Stiles, she might inform them on every single detail in her crazy life. But, Jane didn’t. She had an acquaintance named Marina and a Council of Advisors. She grew up in secrecy and the supernatural.

But, if Scott and Stiles didn’t talk about their lives like an open book in class, Jane would have found out everything from the resident advisors—Allen Deaton and Jessica Morrell—who were moonlighting as a veterinarian and a guidance counselor, respectively. Scott worked for Allen and a few of his friends went to see Jessica. They had disclosed things to Jane. Jessica more so than Allen (he had never been particularly fond of the Counsel). Allen never specifically told the Counsel he had retired—mostly because advisors never really could—but he had been off the grid for years. Once the Kanima made its way onto the map, Allen was called up to let Jane stay with him, to work with her on observation. If something happened, Allen had to take care of it. Jane wasn’t even allowed to speak with Scott and his friends.

Jane wanted to get into action; she wanted to advise the hell out of Scott and his bunch of misfit friends because if someone didn’t do something soon, the entire town of Beacon Hills was going to implode with its supernatural drama. The fate of the citizens was held in the shaky palms of a hormonal sixteen year old teenage boy, his spastic sidekick, and a new uncertain Alpha with an inexperienced pack of his own. Jane, of course, had reported all of this. Things were starting to get seriously out of hand and if the Counsel didn’t do something, Scott and his friends were going to get killed.

Five people were dead by the Kanima’s hands but Jane was told that if there were any serious developments in the Kanima’s behavior, they would get involved.

Any serious developments in the Kanima’s behavior? Jane thought cynically to herself. What could be more serious than one dead human being, much less five? So, Jane was just sitting around, twiddling her thumbs, waiting for the next domino to fall in the Kanima’s master’s plan.

Jane hated this plan. She wanted the Counsel to back her up. She wanted her father to back her up but he was too busy worrying about his place in the Counsel. What did five lives mean in the grand scheme of the Counsel, really? That was basically the mindset of the Counsel to Jane.

Stiles had scored another goal, putting them ahead of the opposing team, virtually winning the game with thirty seconds left. The crowd went berserk. Marina danced up and down, shouting Stiles’ name like she had ever held a conversation with the attention span-lacking boy. Jane stood still in the earthshaking atmosphere, seemingly unmoved by their newest state championship win. The seconds pounded by as Stiles was engulfed in a blissful team hug on the field. Jane almost wanted to smile for the boy’s triumph. Tonight, he wasn’t under Scott’s shadow. He was the hero for once, albeit just a lacrosse game hero—but a hero nonetheless.

Amidst all the energized ruckus of the win, Jane’s blue eyes flickered over to the overhead light that had cut out. Immediately, Jane was filled with bad feelings. No one seemed to notice the one light out. Marina was chatting adamantly to other classmates as Jane watched the lights shut off, one by one.

Once half of them were cut, Marina finally noticed. A perplexed look held her chubby face as she glanced at Jane. “What’s going—”

As the last six lights shut down at once, an earsplitting scream filled Jane’s ears. An elbow dug its way into Jane’s shoulder blade, causing her to yelp. The bleachers emptied out clumsily in the dark. Jane wanted to tell everyone that panicking would only make things worse but no one could see or hear her.

Jane’s body was shoved along with the crowd, forcing her down the steps. With no other alternative, she allowed herself to be carried onto the field. Marina’s hand had somehow found Jane’s wrist and squeezed it painfully. Jane knew it was Marina because the charm bracelet she always wore was digging into her skin.

When they hit the grass floor, there was more room to breath and walk. There was still screaming and panicking but Jane was no longer in the immediate crossfire. One of the lights kicked back on as Jane stopped short, jerking forward when Marina didn’t stop, too. Jane ripped Marina’s clenched hand off of her and hurried forward to the small crowd on the field.

Someone was down on the ground. Jane couldn’t tell who they were or if they were moving.

Her pace picked up to a jog as Jane dodged around the scattered mob of folks. Her shoulder collided forcefully with a heavyset man. Jane briefly saw a red jersey with the number twenty-four.

She arrived at the scene of the crime. Scott and Isaac Lahey were there, staring at the body on the ground with obvious confusion. Jane peered down, breathing heavily. Her eyes danced around Jackson’s still form. Scott’s mother was trying to give him CPR but it didn’t seem like it was doing much. He looked pretty gone to Jane.

Lydia Martin kneeled beside Jackson’s body, shaking and crying. Her usual pretty face was blotchy and grief-ridden. There were a few other lacrosse players Jane couldn’t name. The crazy lacrosse coach stared appalled at what was before him: one of his co-captains, dead.

“He did this to himself?” Isaac’s voice flowed into Jane’s alert ears. Jane glanced down at his bloody fingers, connecting them with the wound on his abdomen.

Why would Jackson do this to himself? Jane demanded silently. Jackson loved himself far too much to take his life. So, his master had to be behind this. The obvious question was: why?

Why would the Kanima’s master kill his useful pet? It just didn’t make sense to Jane.

The paramedics arrived on the scene shortly after, calling time of death. The sidelines were filled with terrified, crying citizens of Beacon Hills, desperately trying to understand what had just happened.

Jane had watched Isaac and Scott eye each other meaningfully as Sheriff Stilinski demanded to know where his son was. Stiles was missing. Number twenty-four had disappeared. Jane was seen him briefly on her way to the field but she didn’t speak up, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She had been so invisible to Scott that it seemed silly to make herself known now.

But as Jane watched Scott’s and Isaac’s shifty behavior and the paramedic zip up Jackson’s body into a black bag, something didn’t sit right. Nothing sat right to Jane.

When Scott’s mother practically forced her way into the ambulance to ride back with the paramedic, Jane knew she had to follow. Something nipped at her conscious, telling her this wasn’t over. The master wouldn’t simply kill the Kanima. Something else was happening.

So, Jane arrived at the hospital, sneaking her way down to the morgue unnoticed. Jane was skilled at being unnoticed. Her visual plainness was a great attribute for her advisor duties, such as sneaking into morgues to check on dead classmate’s body’s (slash Kanimas).

As quietly as possible, Jane snuck down the dimply lit, linoleum hall. The burning smell of bleach filled her nostrils as she arrived at the door to the morgue. Through the small window, Jane spied Ms. McCall gasping into the body bag that held Jackson. She watched as Ms. McCall fumbled with her phone and dialed a number. As Ms. McCall made for the door, Jane hid behind a gurney with a sheet dangling from it.

Ms. McCall briskly walked a few steps down the hall, too distracted to notice Jane’s barely hidden form, rubbing her forehead in distress, and muttering, “C’mon. Pick up, pick up, pick up.”

Jane took the distraction to slip into the morgue, letting the door shut silently behind her. The teenage advisor edged her way towards the body, silently scolding herself for feeling any fear of what she was about to see. Advisors didn’t get scared. They laughed in the face of danger. Jane gulped as she leaned forward.

A gasp threatened to fall from her lips. To keep the sound from getting out, Jane slapped her hands over her mouth. Jackson’s still body was covered in some clear jelly. His sharp cheekbones were slightly blurred underneath the unidentified liquid.

Jane grabbed a metal instrument from the adjacent table, dipping it into the bag and pulling it out, simply examining it as it fell back into the bag. Jane recognized it at once as the Kanima’s paralyzing weapon.

Jane wasn’t sure what was happening to Jackson, but she only assumed it was something bad—very, very bad.

Jane pulled out her phone and snapped a few photos of Jackson’s unknown state. Quickly, she sent it to her father. This was the evidence Jane needed to get the Counsel involved. This was definitely a ‘serious development’. Surely the Counsel couldn’t deny that. The Kanima was currently in some dangerously unknown state. It looked like he was hibernating but Jane couldn’t be sure. She still had a lot to learn but this looked like a threat making the town of Beacon Hills in undeniable need of the Counsel’s help.

Having done all she could, Jane slipped back out the door. Mrs. McCall was still in deep conversation but Jane didn’t stop to listen. She didn’t need to eavesdrop on anymore conversations.

Jane hurried down the hall when her phone vibrated twice, alerting her of a message. Shoving a hand into her jean pocket, Jane grabbed her phone. She opened up the message without a moments delay.

I talked to Arnold, we’re coming.

Jane let out a sigh of relief. Her father had talked to the President of the Counsel. They were coming.

It was time for Jane to get involved.