Scott was just retrieving books from his locker for his next class when he noticed Allison across the corridor. Their eyes met, and she smiled, recognizing the cute boy who had lent her a pen. However, her attention was soon diverted by the books that tumbled out of her locker. She bent down to gather them, and when she finished, she attempted to look at the black-haired teenager again. However, a girl with reddish-blonde hair blocked her view.

"That jacket is absolutely killer! Where did you get it?" Lydia Martin asked, determined to take her new friend under her wing.

"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco."

"You're my new best mate," Lydia declared with a flirtatious smile, causing her taller colleague to laugh. At that moment, Jackson Whittemore joined them, wrapping his arm around Lydia and kissing her.

At the other end of the corridor, Harley, a dark-skinned girl and their classmate, approached Stiles and Scott, observing the scene.

"Can someone tell me how New Girl is here all of five minutes and she's already hanging with Lydia's crowd?" Harley asked, eyeing Allison with jealousy.

"Because she's hot. Beautiful people herd together," Stiles replied thoughtlessly, not noticing Harley's disbelieving gaze as he carefully observed Lydia, with whom he was hopelessly in love.

"Is that why Lydia isn't herding with you?" Harley asked, tilting her head with an ironic smile.

"Lydia's a long-term project, okay? And trust me, I've got all the patience in the world for a high-yield investment like her."

"Well, I don't think New Girl's that pretty," Harley wrinkled her nose at Allison before shifting her attention to her colleagues. "Scott, you think she's pretty? Scott?"

The boy didn't respond, didn't even blink, as his entire attention was focused on Allison.

"I'd take that as a yes..." concluded Stiles, baring his teeth at his friend, who didn't even notice.

"There's a party this weekend," Lydia announced to her new friend.

"A party?"

"Friday night, you should come," Jackson said, eyeing Allison and smiling broadly, signaling his approval.

"I can't. It's Family Night this Friday," Allison stammered, feeling uncomfortable with the couple standing too close and invading her personal space. "But thanks for asking."

"You sure? Everyone's going after the scrimmage."

"You mean like football?" Allison asked, clearly interested.

"Football is a joke at Beacon," Jackson announced with a condescending smile, then explained, proudly puffing out his chest. "The sport here is Lacrosse. We won the state championship the last three years..."

"Because of a certain team captain," Lydia interjected, annoyed by Jackson's attention to another girl but masking it with a sweet smile.

"Every season starts with a scrimmage to decide the new first line. You ever watch Lacrosse?" Jackson continued, unconcerned with his girlfriend, who caressed his hair with her fingers.

"I'm actually not sure how it's played other than... well, violently."

"Maybe you should just come see for yourself. We have practice in a few minutes. You don't have to be anywhere, do you?"

"Well, no, I was just going..."

"Perfect. You're coming," Lydia interrupted, pulling on Allison's arm and leading her towards the pitch. Allison cast a quick, slightly askance glance towards Scott, who was still watching her, but let herself be swept along by her bossy friend without objection.

The school team, along with those hoping to join them this term, had already started to assemble on the pitch, and the stands were slowly filling with students ready to support their friends at their first training session.

"But if you play, I'll have no one to talk to on the bench. You really gonna' do that to your best friend?" Stiles asked in disbelief. Both friends were already dressed in their playing clothes and heading towards the rest of the team.

"I can't sit out again! My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season, I make first line." Scott was determined; he had been practicing all break for just this one reason. At one point, he spotted Lydia and Allison taking a seat in the stands and exchanged a smile with the latter, losing all sense of reality.

"McCall! You're in the goal!" Coach Finstock shouted in his face, throwing a special stick for catching goals into his hands and measuring the teenager with slightly arched eyes. His face expressed a complete lack of interest in anything but the game.

"But I've never played goal..." Scott was confused.

"I know. Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It's a first-day-back thing. Get them energized, jazzed up."

"What about me?"

"Try not to take any in the face," the trainer concluded, patting Scott on the cheek before moving away, completely losing interest in him. "Come on! Here we go!" he shouted to the rest of the team as Scott lined up in goal.

The teenager was stressed. He was very keen to get on the team, but he hadn't expected this turn of events. He was losing hope, and the fact that the girl he liked was watching him closely only made it worse.

"Who is it?" Allison asked Lydia, pointing with her chin towards the gate.

"Him? I'm not sure, why?" Lydia measured the boy with a look in which there was a spark of recognition for a moment, but it disappeared right away, replaced by a bored expression.

"He's in my English class," the taller girl shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance.

A whistle sounded, announcing the start of training. The sound drilled deep into Scott's ears, its intensity causing excruciating pain. Never before had he realized that the tone could be so high and loud. He clutched his head, trying to stop the echo reverberating inside his skull, causing him to miss the fact that the first of his teammates had started an attack on goal, running towards him.

The coach handed the player the ball, which he caught in the net at the end of the stick he was holding, and then raced into Scott's position. However, Scott was too late to realize the situation, and as he raised his eyes, the ball bounced off his helmet. Without it, the ball would have landed in the middle of his face, most likely breaking his nose. The helmet, however, did not stop it from falling straight into the goal Scott was supposed to be defending. The players laughed mischievously, and even a not-so-pleasant smile blossomed on the coach's lips. Scott's cheeks were covered in a scarlet blush, his lips tightened in determination as he picked himself up and repositioned himself in goal. When the whistle sounded again, he was ready. The coach passed the ball to the next attacker, who redirected it towards the goal. Scott moved his net almost immediately. The first thing he noticed was the disbelief and disappointment on his opponent's face. When he turned his gaze to the net of his stick, his eyes widened in surprise. He had caught the ball, defending the goal. He hadn't expected it.

With the next attacker, the situation repeated itself. And again, each time the next person charged at him, he managed to defend the goal and catch the ball. It was completely effortless, as if he had been doing it since birth.

"He seems like he's pretty good," Allison commented on the actions of the boy who had lent her the pen.

"Very good indeed..." confirmed Lydia, intrigued as she followed every movement of Scott, whose figure now radiated confidence.

Meanwhile, on the pitch, Scott was enjoying himself more and more. All nervousness had slipped away somewhere, and he was beginning to get genuine enjoyment out of the game until he saw it was Jackson's turn. The team captain looked seriously upset, and despite the distance that separated them, Scott could sense the anger radiating from his opponent's silhouette.

"Oh god..." Scott had something to fear. Jackson was unquestionably the best player on their team, plus he was extremely aggressive.

Jackson amplified his shot, swinging his racket all the way from the jump. When it landed on the turf, he couldn't shake the shock, as the defender seemed to put no effort into stopping his attack. However, the ball landed straight in Scott's net, who beamed at at the sight, twirled his stick, and sent the ball towards the coach. It fell straight into his grasp, although Finstock made no move to catch it. Meanwhile, at the substitutes' bench, Stiles did a wild victory dance, shouting to all the spectators:

"That's my mate!"

Even Lydia, always cool and composed, jumped to her feet and squealed exultantly, then threw a defiant glance at her boyfriend, who measured her with surprised, angry eyes.