It hadn't been my idea to be at Beacon Hills High School at 10 PM on a Friday. In fact, I had greatly protested the plan. But, as usual, I had been steamrolled by Noreen Edmonds. Noreen is the student council president, head Varsity cheerleader, and co-editor of the BHHS yearbook. This last title is the most important at the moment, since I'm the other co-editor. We were supposed to be meeting to finalize some page layouts that are due at the printers next week. Apparently, Friday evening after the lacrosse game was the only time that worked for Noreen. Her excuse was that she'd be out of town for the rest of weekend. Personally, I think she just likes to ruin my life. I bet it gives her joy.

I'd repeatedly offered to do the layouts on my own - not that I'm eager to do so much work, but at least I could work from home - but Noreen refused every time. Her type-A personality wouldn't be satisfied unless she was in control of everything, even if it meant missing the post-game party. Unwilling to argue anymore, I'd agreed to the meeting, which was supposed to start right after the game. But I've been sitting in the computer lab for an hour now, and Noreen still hasn't arriveed. Nor has she called or texted or even Facebook-messaged. So not only have I wasted an evening, but now I really will have to do the layouts by myself, after all.

Sighing, I shut down the computer before standing, swinging my messenger bag over my shoulder. I exit the lab, turning off the light and locking the door behind me. I was given a set of keys by Mr. Lewis, the newspaper faculty advisor, at the beginning of the year after I was named the newspaper's editor. Having worked for the past three years to gain the title, it took everything I had to not throw my arms around the surly teacher. I hadn't been that happy in...well, it'd been seven years now.

Don't think about that right now, I scold myself as I walk down the hallway. My destination was my black 2004 Honda Civic, which I'd left in the parking lot three hours ago. I actually attended the lacrosse game for once, but only because the paper's usual sports reporter was at a family wedding for the week. Sportswriting certainly isn't my forte, but I think I'll be able to piece together a decent enough article for the next issue.

As I walk, I consider which players I might want to do follow-up interviews with. Probably team captain Scott McCall, and maybe up-and-coming sophmore Liam Dunbar. Both made several goals over the game, and both had been essential to clenching yet another Cyclones victory. I was hoping to get a quote from one or both of them after the game, but they disappeared immediately. I wish I could say their behavior was weird, but I've come to realize - as has the rest of BHHS - that McCall and his friends aren't exactly normal.

I'm halfway to the parking lot when I'm startled by a large crash. It sounds like something heavy has fallen over, which makes no sense. I should be the only person in the building, and it's obvious that there isn't an earthquake happening. Several more crashes echo in the halls, one quickly followed by another. Any sane person would hurry up and get out of there, but I don't exactly classify myself as 'sane'. I intend on pursuing journalism in college, and I always find myself sticking my nose where it doesn't exactly belong.

I reach a fork in the hallway, and a quick second of thought has me heading towards the science classes. I don't make it very far, however, as I spot a trio of figures sprinting towards me. Two of them are holding a third between them, and the third is thrashing around frantically. Wide-eyed, I freeze in place. This directly contradicts the shouts of the people heading my way, who are shouting, "Go go go!" as they come closer and closer. I don't move until they're almost to me, at which point I recognize Scott and Liam. They're carrying a seemingly-pissed girl between them, but I don't think that's their biggest problem at the moment.

"What are you doing? Run!" Liam barks, eyes frantic. I nod dumbly, turning around and following the two boys as they race past me. We shoot down hallway after hallway, not stopping until we reach the parking lot. (Of course, we went the most roundabout route possible.) The boys practically fly towards a blue Jeep that I know belongs to Stiles Stilinski, and for some reason, I still follow them. I've never had anything more than a casual conversation with any of these three boys, but it seems that the most sensible thing to is to stay with them. Especially since I have no idea what it is that we're running from.

Scott and Liam throw the still-squirming girl into the backseat of the Jeep, Liam quickly following her in. I'm not really thinking as I climb in after them. Scott shoves the passenger seat up and clambers inside, urging Stiles to "Drive, dude, drive!" all the while. The car roars out of the parking lot, the three boys chattering in raised and panicked tones until we're miles away from the school. It's only then that anyone realizes that I'm still present.

"What is she," Stiles jabs a thumb in my direction, "doing here?!"

"I don't know! She was in the school and she was in the way and I guess she just tagged along!" Scott replies.

"She has a name, you know. And a voice," I declare, crossing my arms. Stiles groans, momentarily smacking his head on the steering wheel before returning his eyes to the road.

"So what exactly was going on back there?" I ask, unintentionally switching into my reporter's voice. There could be a story here. It's like I can feel it in my bones.

"Ummm..." Scott starts, but he seems to be lost for words.

"We were pulling a prank on Harris and he caught us," Stiles says, causing me to snort.

"And how would you know that he caught you, since you weren't even there?" I inquire. My question throws Stiles for a loop, if his face is any gauge of such things. He and Scott look at each other, wiggling their eyebrows and not saying anything. Liam is busy keeping the fidgeting girl from breaking out of the car, or so it appears. I'm not really sure what it is that I've gotten myself into, but I'm starting to regret it.

"Scott texted me, obviously."

I raise my eyebrows. "Yes, that makes sense. Scott and Liam looked like they were running for their lives, but he totally had time to text you. You're a genius, Stilinski."

Liam turns his attention to me for a moment, blue eyes blinking in surprise. "You know my name?"

I can't help the small laugh that escapes my mouth. "Of course I do. You're one of the best players on the lacrosse team. Everyone knows your name." Liam starts to grin, but Stiles interrupts our conversation.

"So who the hell are you?" I want to say he was growling, but Stiles is about as intimidating as one of those yippy dogs. I've heard Lydia Martin has one named Prada. I bet she and Stilinski get along great.

I make to answer, but Scott does it for me. "Stiles, seriously? She's been in school with us forever. Abigail Griffin?"

Stiles shakes his head, and my automatic instinct is to pout. "Stilinski, I'm the newspaper and yearbook editor. I'm kind of offended that you don't know who I am."

A sharp intake of breath escapes from the back row, and I turn to look at the mysterious girl. She's staring at me with caramel brown eyes that I think I recognize, but I can't quite place them. (I wouldn't mind staring into them for a while to figure it out, I decide.) I guess she recognizes me, though, if her throaty whisper of "Abby?" is anything to go by.

We're just staring at each other, neither of us saying a word, until Scott chimes in, his face all screwed up in concentration. I kind of want to punch him for interrupting this surprisingly intimate moment. But I forgive him an instant later when he says, "Cora, you know her?"

I gape at this beautiful woman. It couldn't be her, could it? "Cora? As in, Cora Hale?"

She nods, still not saying anything. I can't help the tears that start to form in my eyes, and I cover my mouth in shock. I stifle a sob. This can't be happening. She's supposed to be dead. And yet, as I keep examining her, I see that this is indeed Cora Hale. Sitting before me is my childhood best friend, who I have spent the past seven years believing to be dead.

The boys have no idea what to do. It's obvious from their squinting eyes and cocked heads. To be honest, I don't really know what to do, either. When I was younger, right after the Hale fire happened, I told myself that there was no way my best friend could be dead. I thought I was just living in a really detailed nightmare, and I was going to wake up at any moment. As time went on, I had to accept that Cora was gone forever. But now?

I lean across Liam and slap her. I slap her hard. I don't know what possesses me, but it feels right in the moment. She lifts her hand to her cheek, shock evident on her face. Her wide eyes and open mouth are mimicked by the other occupants of the car. I'd probably have the same look on my face if I wasn't so pissed. At least, I think that's the emotion I'm feeling. It's hard to tell with how mixed-up I am right now.

"Let me out here," I demand. No one says anything, and I am not having that. "Let me out!" This time, I'm closer to shrieking than speaking, and the boys hop into action. Scott opens the door and jumps out before leaning his seat forward. I am close behind him, unable to stay in that cramped space for any longer with a girl that I used to know. How was she alive?

"Do you even know where we are?" Scott asks as he returns the seat to its upright position. I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. He sighs heavily and pulls a phone out of his rather tight jeans. He quickly types out a text message before the phone disappears. "Okay, someone will be here soon to pick you up. They can take you back to the school or to your house or wherever you need to go."

I don't give a response. Scott sighs again. He climbs back into the Jeep and slams the door before sticking his head out of the window. "Just...wait here. Don't do anything stupid. You don't know what's out there."

Before I can thank or scold him - I'm really not sure which one I'd rather do - the Jeep roars away. I'm left standing alone on the side of the road, the forest at my back and a lone street light above my head. I don't believe that Scott actually contacted anyone, so I take out my own phone. My only option is to call a cab, because there is no way I can explain this to my parents without them considering a return to Eichen House. But of course, because this is exactly the kind of night I'm having, my phone is dead. Guess I'm stuck here. I really hope Scott actually did send for someone, or I'm screwed. Damn Noreen. This is all her fault.

A/N: Okay, I really hope you all like this. I've been sitting on it for a while, and I'm so excited to share it with you! Please leave a review and let me know what you think.