Unspoken ▹ Teen Wolf [01]

032.

(A/N; in honour of 40k reads, an outrageously long chapter awaits you..)

Rachel managed to get into class before Isaac had a chance to stop her (thank god). He was seriously getting in her nerves; even more so now that Derek had made it clear that Rachel was to be watched at all times. In fact, ever since that declaration; everyone was getting on her nerves. Even the cute junior who'd smiled at her in the hall today; instead of getting butterflies in her stomach, Rachel was pretty sure she growled at him.

Needless to say, she'd gone unnoticed by many as she entered the classroom. At first she couldn't seem to find a seat; that is, until she spotted one right behind the two people she needed to talk to. Rachel hurriedly jogged around the back of the class, slipping into the chair before Jackson (who also apparently had a bone to pick with Scott & Stiles) had the chance. She gave him a sickly sweet smile, before flicking up her middle finger & uttering a few curses at him. The lacrosse co-captain had returned the gesture, but chose to find himself another seat rather than to argue with her.

"Hey, shitheads." Rachel muttered, leaning forward over her desk. "We've got a problem."

The duo turned around, each giving her a questionable look. She discreetly gestured to the door, where through the window, her werewolf chaperone could be seen pacing idly. As they turned back to face her, now looking relatively concerned, she merely nodded her head, already aware of the growing concern.

Before any more words could be exchanged, all attention quickly shot to the front of the room where a book was slammed against a desk. Finstock stood, a psychotic smile on his face, clearly ready to begin the class. "Alright, listen up. A quick warning we begin our review. Some of you, like McCall, might want to start their own study groups, because tomorrow's midterm is so profoundly difficult; I'm not even sure I could pass it."

"Okay, I need a volunteer at the board to answer the first question. Who's got it?" Finstock continued, glancing around the room for a volunteer (otherwise known as a victim, if the poor soul fails to answer the question correctly). Soon, he selected a random, unsuspecting student from near the front, ushering him up to the board. "Come on, let's go, buddy."

Once the risk of possible humiliation in front of the class had passed, Scott & Stiles quickly turned back to Rachel; each anticipating her explanation. Shooting a glance towards the small window in the door, Stiles shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Please tell me he's the problem. Because if the problem you're talking about is any worse than the time bomb in the hall, we're all gonna die."

"Better start digging your grave now." Rachel sighed, biting at her bottom lip. She didn't want to tell them the full truth, but what choice did she have? She trusted Scott & Stiles a hell of a lot more than Derek at this point, and if anyone could figure out a way to save her; it was them. "Derek's testing people."

Scott narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Testing?"

"Testing." She nodded, continuing on with an explanation. "As in, force-feeding them paralytic lizard venom. Ringing any bells? It should. I found Jackson this morning, completely freaking paralyzed & alone with the werewolf epitome of Norman Bates."

"Speaking of him," Stiles muttered, glancing over at the door again. "He's staring at you."

"He's supposed to." Rachel shook her head, brushing it off. Noticing the two looks of confusion, she rolled her eyes & rephrased her response. "Remember how I said we've got a problem? He's only part of it."

"You're not going where I think you're going, are you?" Stiles asked, already nearly positive of the answer he was going to receive.

"I'm going there." She nodded, shrugging off her leather jacket. Instinctively, Rachel glanced down at her arm, tracing over where the wound had been earlier this morning. "He tested me, too."