The classroom buzzed with low conversation, chairs scraping, papers shuffling—normal high school noise.

But for this group?

Nothing was ever just normal.

Scott sat slouched in his seat, pencil tapping rhythmically against his notebook, his eyes occasionally flicking toward the door like he was expecting something. Or someone.

Across from him, Stiles leaned back in his chair, balancing dangerously on two legs.

“Okay, but hear me out,” Stiles whispered, gesturing wildly, “what if the lizard thing—if it’s a lizard thing—isn’t even the main problem?”

Scott didn’t even look up. “Stiles.”

“No, seriously, like—what if it’s just the symptom? Like supernatural acne. Boom. I just solved Beacon Hills.”

“You did not solve Beacon Hills.”

Nearby, Lydia sat perfectly poised, flipping a page in her book with elegant precision, clearly pretending not to listen—while absolutely listening.

Jackson, beside her, scoffed. “You’re both idiots.”

Stiles grinned. “And yet, here we are, still alive.”

Jackson’s jaw tightened, irritation flashing across his face for just a second too long.

Allison sat a row over, quietly sketching in the margins of her notebook—bows, arrows, patterns. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were alert, occasionally drifting toward Scott. Not longing. Just… aware.

Isaac leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze distant. Erica twirled a pen between her fingers, clearly bored, while Boyd sat solid and silent, observing everything without saying a word.

And then—

The door opened.

The room went still.

Not completely.

But enough.

Their teacher stepped in—followed by you.

“Class,” the teacher began, setting her things down, “we have a new student joining us today.”

Every single set of eyes landed on you.

And not just normal curiosity.

No.

This was something sharper.

Heavier.

Like instinct kicking in.

Scott straightened slightly, his nose twitching almost imperceptibly, like he was trying to catch a scent he couldn’t quite place.