She surfaces, but only for a moment, the exact moment Jackson grabs her arm.
Peter’s vise lessens to just a slight grip of his fingertips, claws sharp and unyielding within the darkest corners of her mind. Jackson’s touch—burning on her skin, making her realize how cold she feels lately—is like a slap in the face, a bucket of water upended over her head, jolting her awake as if she was electrocuted. She feels the resonating anger in her ears, a howl of rage, but the volume’s decreased…somehow, it’s fading, and fast.
Feeling nauseated and uncomfortable, she realizes she’s in the locker room. How did I get here? She wonders, disquieted, as her heartbeat sounds too loud in her ears. She doesn’t recall walking in here in the first place, let alone walking through the hallways to her classes, or even waking up this morning.
Her eyes meet Jackson’s, who looks as surprised as she is. They haven't been this close since Scott's and before that, the hallway when he yelled at her. You’re Jackson and I’m Lydia, she wants to scream and shake him by the shoulders, as his gaze lingers on her face, sad and so very confused...like there's something seriously wrong with him. You’re Jackson Whittemore. The captain of the lacrosse team, the most popular boy in school, my ex-boyfriend. You brought the team to States, don’t you remember? Don’t you remember anything at all?
Jackson's touch, however, is too rough. This isn't a Jackson she knows. The one standing here has a secret.
His fingers loosen, skirting across her skin almost apologetically, and indistinct memories of the lacrosse field, the bowling alley, and school blur together, when they were just Lydia and Jackson, before Peter, before Allison and Scott and even Stiles flash before her eyes. Jackson’s arm falls to his side and Lydia now stands at the end of a tunnel, too far away to reach him or call for help. Peter is crawling back now, bloodied trail forcing her into terrified silence, hold reasserting itself on her, no, no, wait, she has to tell someone about the party, Lydia's party, for Lydia Martin is not only beautiful, but she is immune, immune to the distraction, quite unlike her friends who won't be able to save Derek in time—
“I’ll see you there,” Peter smiles, leaving Jackson alone.
Lydia closes her eyes.