Chapter Text
Not everyone could handle being the President of the Homecoming Committee. Then again, Lydia isn’t just anyone.
The homecoming committee is in the gym, decorating banners for the big game in a month. Stiles is carefully spreading the glitter on the edges of the large sheet, muttering something about “glitter herpes,” while Scott and Allison paint the outlined letters (as well as each other when they were feeling cutesy), and Isaac is carefully drawing in the outlines for the words ahead of them. Lydia, of course, is organizing the next banner and coordinating the colors for the paint because it will be over her dead body that the colors clash on one of their Pep Banners. The group is laughing and having a good time.
Suddenly, the doors to the gym burst open. A group of students in leather jackets strut in, an air of superiority surrounding them. They call themselves the Pack, though Stiles likes to call them the Gaggle. Derek leads them, nicknamed Alpha. Boyd follows with his arm thrown over Erica’s shoulders, though Lydia knows not to underestimate the blonde. She’s Derek’s right-hand man—err, woman. Danny comes in next, the only member of the Pack who was not fond of physically threatening others. Instead, he preferred dry sarcasm and an air of indifference. Jackson is the last to walk in, head held high like he was a king as opposed to Derek’s lackey.
Lydia sighs, exasperated. This will not end well.
Erica spots the committee first. “If it isn’t the Glitter Gang!”
“Shit,” Stiles mutters.
The Pack and the committee have a history of dislike (well, more like abhorrence). Most of the school know that if you see the two groups in the same hallway, you should find a different route to class.
The Pack approach the group, smirking.
“What the hell do you delinquents want?” Scott glares at the leather-clad group.
“Now that’s not nice,” Derek says smoothly. “Here we are, ready to help you guys out, and you’re calling us delinquents? Where’s your school spirit?”
Stiles scowls. Lydia, who has been trying to be totally indifferent to the other group’s presence, snaps, “You’re wasting our time. Go smoke a cigarette or rob a liquor store, whatever you neanderthals do in your spare time. We have work to do.”
Jackson speaks up from the back. “You know, Lydia, if you were interested in what I can do, all you had to do was ask nicely,” he says with a wink. The Pack snickers as Lydia rolls her eyes and makes a disgusted noise.
“Really, though, let me give you a hand with that,” Derek says with a seemingly sincere smile, leaning down next to Stiles. The younger teen watches him with a suspicious glare. Faster than he can react, Derek grabs the small bucket of glitter and dumps its contents on Stiles’ head. The glitter completely coats his head and shoulders.
“You fucker!” Scott yells as he charges at Derek. Boyd steps between them and grabs Scott by the shoulders, simply tossing him to the ground. The teen barely misses a bucket of paint. He stays there, the wind knocked out of him.
Stiles is sputtering, trying to get the glitter off of him as Allison tries to help without getting too much of the sparkly substance on herself. Isaac is quickly moving any paint cans away from the groups in case the fighting continues. Jackson is doubled over with laughter, Danny smacking his back lightly with a grin of his own.
Lydia simply sighs and gets out her phone.
“What the heck are you on your phone for?” Scott says as he glances at her before directing another glare at the enemy, looking ready to charge again.
“Calling the school’s main office. I’m sure they’d love to hear reports of a group of vagrants bullying in the gym.” She says this nonchalantly as she slowly dials. Lydia has no intention of calling anyone. She’s fully aware that revenge will be sought later once her friends have a chance to regroup, but for now the action is effective. Derek narrows his eyes and studies the calm Committee President for a moment before holding up his hands innocently.
“No need for threats. We’re late, anyway, aren’t we guys?” The Pack echoes enthusiastically. “See you later, Cullen,” he directs at Stiles before sauntering off. The group heads toward the door on the other side of the gym that leads to the back parking lot.
Just before he exits through the door, Jackson turns back with a shit-eating grin and says, “Yo, Lydia. Come to the bowling alley tonight if you want to see what a real man can do.” He puckers his lips and winks, cackling as the door slams behind him. Lydia puts her head in her hand, wondering how it was humanly possible for someone to be that pig-headed.
When she looks up, Allison has a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and Isaac is holding Scott back, both trying to stop the boys from running after the douchebag. “It’s not worth it, guys. Just…let’s get this cleaned up. We have to get at least two more banners finished before we can call it a day.” She claps her hand for emphasis, and the committee gets to work.