IN HER HEART, THERE'S A HOLE
THERE'S A BLACK MARK ON HER SOUL
"How tall are you?"
"Why?"
"Oh, I just asked, so I know how long I should dig your grave."
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"Hey, testicle left and right." Jackson whispers, to Scott and Stiles. "What the hell is a kanima?"
"All right, listen up." Coach starts the class. "A quick warning before we begin our review. Some of you, like McCall, might want to start their own study groups, because tomorrow's midterm is so profoundly difficult, I'm not even too sure I could pass it." He laughs evilly, and I question how he ever became a High School teacher. "Okay, I need a volunteer at the board to answer the first question. Who's got it, huh?" A boy raises his hand. "Come on, let's go, buddy."
"Paralyzed from the neck down." Jackson starts his whining again. "Do you have any idea what that feels like?"
I glare at him harshly, and Stiles speaks quickly, before I bash Jackson's head in his desk.
"We're familiar with the sensation." He tells Jackson.
"Wait— Why would Derek test you?" Scott asks. "Why would he think that it's you?"
Wait, Jackson didn't know? He looks at me, and gives me a look.
"How should I know?" He answers.
"I might have a good idea why?" I comment.
"Wait, do they think it's Lydia?" I ask Jackson, as he told us about how he overheard Isaac and Erica talking.
"I don't know, all I heard was her name and something about chemistry." He answers.
"Jackson!" Coach yells. "Do you have something you want to share with the rest of the class?"
"Um— Just an undying admiration for my- my Coach." Jackson shutters.
"That's really kind of you." Coach tells him, with a smile, but drops it and yells. "Now shut up! Shut it! Anybody else?"
"How do we know it's not her?" Scott asks us.
"Well, you know, because that thing is pure evil." I tell him. "And when I look into Lydia's eyes, I only see 50% evil." All, Scott, Stiles and Jackson give me a really look. "All right, maybe 60. You know, but no more than 40 on a good day."
"Alex, that's not a very good argument." Scott tells me.
"I'm aware of that, but I swear it's not her." I tell them. "And I know, I haven't know her for a long time, but I know, she isn't the one we're looking for. Lydia's fine."
We all look to the front, where Lydia was standing with a chalk in her hand, and tears in her eyes, as some gibberish was written on the board behind her.
