Chasing the Moon (A Stiles Stilinski/Teen Wolf FanFiction) [1]

Chapter 12 - An Anchor

But what really was digging into me about Allison's reading was not that of the old werewolf. It was the possibility that her family was the one to kill it. It also gave hint that Allison was clueless to her family's favorite pastime. 

"So?" I pressed.

"Do you believe it? Do you really think that there was some psychotic half-man, half-wolf creature roaming around and killing innocents?" She asked me. If only she knew.

I let out a heavy sigh. "I believe that there are many things out there that we don't know about, and may not want to know about."

Much to my relief, the bell rang, signaling my excuse to free myself of this conversation. Students already began shuffling about, trying to make their way to their next class.

"I should be going," I said. I closed my locker and pulled my binder to my chest. I tried walking away, but Allison stopped me.

"Wait," she said. I turned around. "At least look at this picture."

On the page of the book was a fading photo of what appeared to be a monster. But it wasn't just any kind of monster, it was wolf-like. It was large and muscular, wearing a glare through it's beading red eyes. It looked all too familiar.

"It's a wolf, Allison." I said, before finally walking away.

☼ 

I walked into Economics, Allison trailing behind me. I had forgotten that our next class was together. This made me feel embarrassed and awkward all at the same time. 

Coach Finstock ordered for the class to sit down. Scott tried to get Stiles to sit behind him, but it was too late. Allison had already occupied that seat. Unfortunately Scott is trying to avoid the poor girl and has been doing so all day. So, Stiles sat across from Allison and I took the seat in front of him. 

I looked back at him as Allison and Scott began talking, Scott looking as uncomfortable as ever. For some reason, looking at Stiles kind of hurt. It hurt to know that he doesn't and probably will never think about me the way I think about him, or look at me they way I look at him. It was beginning to break my heart.

Finstock slammed his hands down on the stack of books on his desk, startling the class into silence. "Alright everyone, settle down. Let's start with a summary of last night's reading."

I and a few other students raised their hands into the air to volunteer.

"Greenburg, put your hand down. Everyone knows you did the reading," scolded Finstock.

I'm not sure why, but the man has always seemed to have a roaring hatred for Greenburg. It's most likely for the fact that he's dreadful at lacrosse, has no coordination and is completely nonathletic.

"How about, hmm," he took a few steps forward, "McCall?"

Scott looked up, clueless. "What?"

"The reading," said Finstock. He moved away a few things on his desk so he could lean against it.

"Last night's reading?" Scott asked.

"How about the reading of the Gettysburg Address?" Finstock said. I kept my eye on Scott, feeling where this was going.

"What?" Scott asked, confused. Some of our classmates giggled.

"That's sarcasm. You familiar with the term 'sarcasm', McCall?"

Scott glanced over to Stiles, who smirked. "Very,"

"Did you do the reading or not?" Finstock asked, becoming irritated.