𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 ▷ Stiles Stilinski¹

32|the creature

♡♢♤♧

The plan was put in to motion that night, taking place at the lacrosse game. As I stood with Stiles, Allison was getting her grandfather to come to the game. If everything goes to plan, we should have the bestiary by the end of the night.

Finally, as the game was beginning, Allison took a seat beside her grandfather up in the bleachers.
I stood beside the bleachers, waiting for Stiles so we could do our part. He was going to break into Gerard's desk whilst I kept watch.

The game was now in full swing, just as a boy from our team was thrown to the ground with great force. That 'great force', was a player from the other team, a behemoth of a boy.

The crowd groaned in unison with the boy, who was flat on his back in pain.

"Come on!" Coach shouted to the refs. "Is that even a teenager? I wanna see a birth certificate!"
After his rant he went and sat down next to Stiles. Since I had stood close enough to Stiles to be able see him get up, I was able hear them talking.

"Who or what is that genetic experiment gone wrong?" Coach asked Stiles as his plopped down beside him on the bench.

Stiles leaned forward slightly, hands in his pockets fighting the cold. "Eddie Obomowitz, Coach. They call him 'The Abomination.'"

"Oh, that's cute," Coach sneered. I chuckled, shaking my head at Coach.

'McCall. What the hell are you waiting for?' I heard an echoing voice, as if it was carried on the wind. 'This is the semi-finals. Bring that roid-head into the ground'

I searched for Scott, figuring the person was talking to him. I saw him standing across the field, speaking in hushed tones to Jackson.

I decided it was best to not question how I could hear them, let alone mention it to Stiles or Scott.

'Me? You're the one who said I was a cheater,' Scott hissed, clearly annoyed at Jackson for suggesting it after how he had treated him the year prior.

Jackson shook his head, 'And that freak of nature being on the field is fair? Do something.'

'I can't,' Scott insisted. 'Not while Allison's grandfather is here.'

As the game went back into play, I looked up and over to Allison, giving her the signal to do her part.

"I knew I should have brought a warmer jacket," Allison said indirectly to her grandfather, trying to get the ball rolling.

"You're cold," Gerard claimed, leaning forward to remove his jacket. "Here, take my coat."

"Are you sure?" Allison asked, trying to make it seem like that wasn't what she wanted the entire time.

He insisted, getting her to turn so that he could put her arms through the coat and pulled it up on to her shoulders, asking her if she felt warmer.

She nodded and smiled, before they both sat back down. I noticed her hands slowly sliding into the pockets, rummaging quietly as she looked ahead.

After a moment, both of her gloves hands went and sat in her lap. Knowing this to be my cue, I walked over and stood beside the bleachers she was in. She was sitting up at about my shoulder height, so she looked down slightly to make sure I was ready.

"Good God, is it always this violent?" Allison's grandfather asked her as a player from the other team body-slammed someone from Beacon Hills.

Allison did nothing more than raise her eyebrows, too nervous to do anything else.