This Isn't The End {Stiles Stilinski}[1]

Blue Eyed Boy

Chapter 8: Magic Bullet

Groaning, my head fell against the cold metal of my locker, making me sigh. Lydia had been at Allison's house all weekend, meaning that I couldn't talk to her. I'd just seen her and attempted to talk to her, but she just blew right past me, fast walking off to class.

I knew she probably just didn't want to hash things out at school, but I wasn't sure. I mean, she'd been gone all weekend, avoiding me at all costs.

Huffing, I jumped, slightly banging my head on the locker door as someone slid up next to me, slamming again the metal with a strange grin on his face.

Looking at him wide-eyed, I wasn't sure what to say to my hyperactive friend. A single text of 'guy stuff,' was all he'd sent me over the weekend, that being all I had to try and keep me from going insane.

"What up giirl?" Stiles asked, stretching out the last word in a high pitch as he moved his hands in a smooth motion toward me.

"What the hell is wrong with you Stiles?" I questioned, leaning against the lockers as I stared at him incredulously.

"Oh, there's a lot wrong with me." Stiles bobbed his head up and down as if he needed to further prove his point. "But I have no idea what you're talking about." Stiles abruptly started shaking his head instead of nodding.

Scoffing, I left it alone, walking past him as I drug him in the direction of our World History classroom.

Stumbling, he eventually righted himself into walking correctly, following my footsteps down the crowded hallway.

"So, when are we actually going to hang out? Seeing as you've been avoiding my calls?" I questioned him, turning to look at him with a teasing smile on my face.

Stiles tripped over himself slightly before nodding his head a few times. "Uh..soon. Yeah, soon, soon. I'll talk to Scott about it." Scratching the back of his head, he continued through the classroom door, making his way over to his seat behind Scott.

Shaking my head in amusement, I stalked over to my desk in the front row. Sadly, I'd missed class the day Mr. Monroe let the students pick seats, so I had to sit on the right side of the room, in the front.  It was horrible.

Noticing that the teacher was getting ready to hand me a test, I put down my bag and grabbed the pieces of paper from him, smiling as he walked past.

Looking down while I started to sit, I noticed the familiar A+ at the top of the paper, smiling as I set it down on my desktop. Ignoring the muttering of conversations around me, I started getting the things I needed out of my bag as I heard the final bell ring.

Setting the bulky textbook down in front of me, I reached back into my bag grabbing my notebook for the class and a pen. Opening the notebook to the closest blank page, I folded the used pages back and placed it next to my book. Twirling the pen in between my fingers, I leaned back in my seat.

"I don't know!" Startled, I whipped around, pen stilled in my hand, to look at the back of the room where I had heard Scott's voice yell.

Confused, I watched as Scott slowly turned around from snapping at Stiles. Glancing around the classroom, he put his head down, looking at his open textbook.

Looking at the troublemaker in question, I saw him itch his neck with a pencil before grabbing his test from the teacher. When our eyes connected, I sent him a 'what the hell' look, directing my eye line between him and Scott. He responded with a spastic motion of shrugging and wiggling his arms, eyes blown out of his face, mouthing the words, 'I dunno.'