Unraveling » Stiles Stilinski

❦ Chapter Three ❦

❦ Chapter Three ❦

*Disclaimer; I do not own Teen Wolf. I do however wish I owned Stiles.*

I will be doing more Stiles P.O.V. until I get the start over and done with. Then everything will go back to Opal.

Stiles Stilinski

I couldn't believe that Harris gave me detention. As I stared at the big hand on the clock, I couldn't believe how agonizingly slow it moved. It moved so slow, it was almost painful. I squeezed my hands to my head, and quickly rose out of my seat in excitement and finally felt  freedom when the big hand reached the 12.

I gathered my things and was about to leave when Harris spoke up. "Sit."

"But it's been an hour?" I said confused, pointing up at the clock on the wall.

"My detention's an hour and a half," he replied simply. He didn't even look up from the papers he was grading.

I let my hands drop. "You can't do that!" I protested.

"Oh, but I can." He smirked. "You see, Stiles, since your father was so judicious with his dealings with me I've decided to make you my personal  project for the rest of this semester. You are going to benefit from all that strict discipline has to offer. Now sit down before I decide to keep you here all night," Harris finished with folded hands.

My vision became blurry at all the red I was seeing. I never thought I could hate a man that much, as if I would want to kill him. At that precise moment I had wish that I was a werewolf so I could claw him to death. I slowly sat down, not breaking my eye contact with him. I ran my hand over my buzz cut hair. Opal will just have to wait until after the funeral. I couldn't be more late than I all ready was.

Bloody Harris.

❦

"Yo," I whispered as I halted to a stop behind Scott. He was hiding behind a massive grey tombstone that wasn't that far from where the funeral was taking place. Scott glanced at me and then back to the old man who was currently talking to Alison.

"Who the hell is that?" I asked squinting my eyes to get a better look. Alison looked in our direction, causing us to duck behind the tombstone. "Well he's definitely an Argent," Scott commented.

"Hey you know, maybe they're just here for the funeral. What if they're the non-hunting side of the family? There could be non-hunting Argents, that's possible right?" I asked in a doubtful voice.

"I know what they are," Scott finally said, "they're reinforcements." I swallowed nervously. A hand grabbing my collar roughly broke me from my daze, and I looked up to see my dad's angry face.

"The two of you, unbelievable." He growled. I winced. I hadn't seen dad this angry in a long time. "Pick up my tie."

"I'm sorry, I know I'm supposed to ask," I said in a defeated tone bending over and picking up my dad's tie I had taken from his room earlier this morning. He tells me all the time to ask before I take or use any of the things. Do I listen? No.

Dad shoved Scott and I into the back of his car. Scott leaned his head on the back seat. "I don't know how we always seem to get into these situations."

I shook my head, "me either."

The police scanner in the front of the car went off with someone on the other line rattling of some numbers that I couldn't hear properly.. I leaned forward to hear better just as Dad grabbed the mic.