She looks me up and down, her colored lip curling. “You’re Stiles, right?”

Yes, thanks for noticing. Of course I don’t say that. She’d kill me. And why am I suddenly feeling sarcastic? I don’t *do* sarcasm. It’s not my thing.

Uh, and I don’t do that either. What in the heck? I’m confused, and I suddenly want to say hell instead of heck. No! I won’t!

She smirks at me. “Girl, we need to do something about your wardrobe. You’ll embarrass us in *that*.” Before I can stop her, she drags me fashion-ward... and I find myself liking it...