If I Could Turn Back Time

I Could Use A Little Help

“Don't you think that it's borin' how people talk?

Makin' smart with their words again, well, I'm bored

Because I'm doin' this for the thrill of it, killin' it

Never not chasin' the million things I want

And I am only as young as the minute is, full of it

Gettin' pumped up from the little bright things I bought

But I know they'll never own me (yeah)

Baby, be the class clown

I'll be the beauty queen in tears

It's a new art form, showin' people how little we care (yeah)

We're so happy, even when we're smilin' out of fear

Let's go down to the tennis court

And talk it up like yeah (yeah!)”

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When he awoke the next morning, Derek's mind went right back to the dilemma he had fallen to sleep both contemplating and cursing. As he ate breakfast, he realized there was one way he could have an automatic 'in' with his Pack, and be there for both them and Malia, once he finally brought her out of the woods.

He needed a job, preferably at the high school. And there was only one person he knew who would be willing to help him. Derek sighed. The things he put up with for his Pack.

Later that day after school, Scott was walking to their lockers in the hallway to get a few more things before heading out to the field when he was cornered by Jackson. “Alright, little man,” Jackson sneered. “How ‘bout you tell me where you and Stilinski are getting your juice.” Scott frowned in confusion. “What?” he said obliviously. “Where are you and Stilinski getting your juice?” Jackson gritted out. 

“But… my mom does all the grocery shopping,” Scott stated.

Jackson clenched his jaw furiously as he said, “Now, listen, McCall… you’re gonna tell me what exactly it is and who you’re buying it from because there’s no way in hell you losers are out there kicking ass like that on the field without some chemical boost.”

That’s when the dots finally connected in Scott's brain and he realized what Jackson was talking about. “Oh, you mean steroids,” he said allowed, then he thought about it for a second a gave Jackson a dubious look. “Are you on steroids?” Having had enough of his games, Jackson shoved Scott up against the lockers, yelling, “What the hell is going on with you, McCall?” “What's going on with me?” Scott repeated in exasperation. “You really wanna know? Well, so would I, because I can see, hear, and smell things that I shouldn't be able to see, hear, or smell! I do things that should be impossible, I'm sleepwalking 3 miles into the middle of the woods, and I'm pretty much convinced that Stiles and I are some sort of freaks who’ve lost their freaking minds!”

After completing his rant, Scott let out a loud sigh while Jackson just shook his head in disbelief. “You think you're funny, don’t you, McCall?” Jackson chuckled sardonically. “I know you're hiding something. I'm gonna find out what it is. I don't care how long it takes.” Then he slammed his fist up against the locker next to Scott's head and stormed off.