Maybe I Was Wrong (Teen Wolf: Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter 37

Hi guys! I'm back from my school trip to Italy, and it was so amazing. I saw the pope, had the most delicious ice cream and saw so many examples of beautiful architecture and art. But I'm back home now, which means I can finally upload a new chapter! Enjoy it :)

-Nena

***

"A concussion, a broken nose, countless bruises... And all in about thirty seconds. It would be impressive if you were boxers instead of high school students."

I stare at my hands resting on the table, my knuckles now clean, but still scraped up and bruised.

"We're willing to let it slide, just this once, because this is the first time we're seeing bad and violent behaviour. And also because we understand you're having a hard time right now, due to circumstances," Ms. Morrell, the school's guidance counselor, explains.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Grace. I heard your aunt's funeral is today?"

I nod lightly, keeping my head down.

"They insulted her. And I lost it."

"Did you know the girl you hurt?" Ms. Morrell asks.

I shake my head.

"So why didn't you just ignore her?"

I don't answer, because I really don't have anything to say to that.

"I think the reason why you exploded is because all those feelings were stuck inside of you. And it's absolutely okay to be angry, or sad, or confused about what happened. But are you talking about those feelings with others?" she asks me.

"I don't want to," I say.

"It's not okay to keep everything bottled up, Grace. You can talk to your family, your friends, and me. They care about you. They want to help you," she says.

"The only family I have left is an uncle and his wife, who both hate me, and a cousin who's too busy being in love with her boyfriend to do anything else," I say, still keeping my gaze on my hands. "The cousin and her boyfriend are two of my friends, another one's disappeared from the hospital, and..."

"What about Stiles?" she asks, and I look up to catch her eyes for the first time.

"After this... and other things... I think he hates me," I mutter.

"He doesn't hate you. Neither do the rest of your friends and family. But you two seem close. Have you talked to him?"

"When she died," I nod.

"Did it help?" she asks.

"Yeah," I nod, letting my gaze flicker down again.

"See? It helped before. And it will help if you try it again. Just talk, Grace. You've been through a lot. Okay, if there's nothing else you want to talk about, you can go to detention now," Ms. Morrell says, and I leave in silence.

***

When I enter Mr. Harris' classroom, both the teacher's and Stiles' heads turn and their eyes focus on me. I try to ignore the light embarrassment I feel and quickly take a seat close to Stiles.

"You okay?" he whispers, eyes flickering down to the bruises on my knuckles.

"Yeah," I nod, surprised that he's not still angry at me for beating up a random girl. He doesn't say anything else for a while after that, so I take a textbook out of my backpack and start reading. It's nearly impossible to concentrate, though, so I mostly stare at the clock, waiting until it strikes four and detention is over.