𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫, m. tate & i. lahey

𝟎𝟏𝟒. senior scribe

ANCHOR

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MALIA LETS OUT a low growl as she continues to refresh the page that is currently displayed on her phone screen. Her patience is usually a thin straw on a regular basis, and this isn't helping her whatsoever.

"Alright, here we go! Everybody get a good grip." The girl hears her adoptive father's loud voice over the cold, hard wind, and she turns to find him instructing a group of people lined up at a fallen tree. "Remember: lift with your legs— that's where your power is. One, two, three!"

Simultaneously, they raise their arms as high as they can while they use all the pressure in their legs to help them. A choir of strained groans escape their mouths, and their hands start to slip out from underneath. Noticing this, Malia shoves her phone into her back pocket and steps forward, lowering her body to place one hand on the bark of the tree before pushing it.

The trunk rises out of their palms and higher up, with everyone staring in disbelief at the sight of the teenage girl lifting it with ease. Malia barely releases a grunt, and when she looks at her father and the people around them, she realizes why they seem so shocked.

Malia forces a convincing grin. "Strong legs."

After a moment of hesitation, her father dismisses it and continues to guide and advise the other citizens trying to help clear the roads from the damage of the storm.

"Dad," Malia calls out as she refreshes the school website again. "Is your phone working?"

"No," the girl's father shakes his head. "I think the storm took the cell towers out." When Malia makes a slight groaning noise at his words, he tries to offer a reassuring smile. "It's gonna be okay. You'll find out when you find out."

Although Malia gives a nod of her head, her anxiety continues to send nervous waves through her body.

"Do you need a ride to the school?"

Before she can answer, the honking of a blue jeep interrupts their conversation. Stiles peeks his head out of his vehicle and waves with a bright smile.

"Got one," Malia says as she and her father begin walking towards the jeep. When they reach the side doors, the werecoyote looks through the window to see Isaac and Liam in the backseat. The youngest beta has earbuds in his ears, seemingly dissociated from the conversation. "Hey."

Isaac purses his lips awkwardly, returning a quiet hello in response.

Malia's father glances at the four teenagers in the car suspiciously. "You boys do remember I own a gun, right?"

Scott and Isaac's mouths drop instantly, both of them stammering over their own words.

"Vividly," Stiles tells him uncomfortably.

Mr. Tate smiles slightly at this, winking at his daughter before turning around and strolling back to the fallen trees.

The brown-haired boy then hops out of the driver's seat and moves out of the way, motioning for Malia to climb through to the backseat. Malia does exactly that, settling herself between Isaac and Liam. As soon as the door slams shut, all four heads spin to face her.