The Secret Holder

VI. A Weak Lead

________Tuesday Night________
"You bought a Jeep?" Stiles asks incredulously from the doorstep.
"No, Stiles. My Prius died, and I stole a car." I reply sarcastically. It's almost like old times, and my plans of icing him out melt away for a second.
Stiles is walking around the car and inspecting it admiringly. "It's a Wrangler." A grin lights up his face. He looks at me until Malia walks out the door, and whole-heartedly kisses him right in front of my face.
"Well..." I mutter to my new black lace-up platforms. I try and think of the investment of my new wardrobe, inching past them as gracefully as I can. When I get to the double doors, Stiles has Malia pushed up against a wall in a way that I'd rather forget. I desperately knock on the glass, and rattle on and on in my head about everything. This new wardrobe thing was supposed to be about me, and taking a break. It was supposed to help me forget about the deaths of the people that were close to me. The clothes were supposed to make me more sophisticated...more than a psychotic junior about to break.
"Lydia?" Scott is shaking my shoulders, obviously irritated. "I got the door. C'mon."
"More work, less play, people!" Stiles interrupts, with a maniacal smile highlighted by pink lipstick smears.
"Dude, you've got a little-" Scott hands Stiles a tissue and turns his attention back to me. Stiles looks back at Malia, making my stomach lurch with envy.
Stiles has just about finished getting the lipstick off his face. He comes and sits next to me with his laptop looking at a bunch of unreliable websites with ancient myths.
"Stiles, to be honest, I don't think it has anything to do with any of us. It's definitely someone else...I don't think anyone is after you, but I think this person is trying to reach out to you. I don't know who it is, or what for yet." I tell Stiles. I'm wracking my brain for any new information that could contribute.
"Look, anything. Anything can help me out at this point. Just a single lead."
I purse my lips, and bounce from foot to foot. Kira is pacing, and Malia is glaring out a window. Scott checks his phone, then stands silently while we try and figure something out.
"Do you have your school stuff with you?" Stiles asks.
"Yes..." Once I get my bag, I throw a couple notebooks on the table.
He sifts through all of my notes, and everyone either stares at the wall or bites their nails in silence again.
"Can you try something else? Like the automatic writing thing I was telling you about before?" Stiles scratches the back of his neck.
"I told you Stiles...it works on its own, not when there's something I'm looking for. If you could just wait a while? Maybe tomorrow something will-"
"Couldn't you just try? Couldn't you actually try? My dad's and god knows who else's life is on the line, and all you're concerned about is how much time we have?!" Stiles erupts. A livid expression rests on his face, all joking from earlier long gone.
I have been scrutinizing a wall for almost a minute before I say anything. "It's actually getting late." I say nonchalantly...I want to pretend he didn't just say that I don't try, or that I don't care that people's lives are hanging in the balance. If he thinks that I don't care, then he doesn't know one thing about me.
"Really...? It's only eight o'clock." Malia pops in from her corner by the window.
"My mom's expecting me."
I don't cause a scene as I walk back to my car. I didn't pick up any of my things because I'm not worried about being able to study for possible pop quizzes, or test guides that need answering. I don't care anymore. And it's apparent.
I drive myself home without a word, and I try to ignore my phone ringing loudly from the bottom of my purse.
Maybe it's Scott.
Maybe it's Kira.
I hope it's anyone but him.