S3AE5 ❂ Frayed ❂

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Thunder booms over our heads as we drive down the wet roads to the cross-country meet.

Coach scowls at the sky through the windshield of the bus. The grey, dismal clouds hang lowly over our heads. It looks like a nasty storm is brewing in the distance. He blows his whistle when he notices a student out of their seat. "Back to your seat!" He yells at Jonathan. The boy picks up his backpack and reluctantly sulks down the aisle back to where he was sitting before.

Stiles snaps his fingers in front of Scott's face. "Yo, Scotty!" He says from the row of seats behind me. "Hey, yo! Scotty? Still with me?"

Scott tears his eyes away from the passing scenery outside, probably thinking about the huge fight we had gotten in to with the Alpha pack yesterday. "Yeah, sorry. Uh, what's the word?"

"Anachronism," Stiles repeats.

"Something that exists out of its normal time," Scott answers.

"Nice! Okay, next word. 'Incongruous.'"

"Uh, can you use it in a sentence?"

"Yes. Yes, I can! It's completely incongruous that we're sitting on a bus right now, on our way to some stupid cross-country meet, after what just happened. Incongruous."

"It means out of place, ridiculous, absurd," I answer, turning around in my seat to face them.

"Perfect. Okay, next word. Um... Darach. Darach. It's a noun?"

Scott looks at him tiredly.

"We have to talk about it sometime, okay? And we're gonna be stuck in this thing for, like, five hours, so why not?" Stiles asks.

Scott moves his arm to his side and stays silent, looking back out the window at the dark clouds.

"Next word..." Stiles continues. "'Intransigent.'"

"Stubborn, obstinate..." the bus hits a pothole, jarring everyone on board. Scott groans and grips his side harder.

"Scott, you okay?" I ask.

He closes his eyes and lets out a rigid, painful breath.

"We shouldn't have come." Stiles shakes his head. "I knew it—we shouldn't have come!"

Scott looks at Stiles. "We had to. There's safety in numbers."

"Yeah, well, there's also death in numbers, okay? It's called a 'massacre'." He begins reading other words from his tablet. "...Or 'bloodbath...' 'Carnage...' 'Slaughter...' 'Butchery...'"

"'Annihilation,' 'genocide,'" I add.

We hit another pothole, causing Scott to inhale sharply.

Stiles puts his tablet down. "All right, I'm telling Coach that—"

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