Series Rewrite (A Teen Wolf Fanfiction)

Second Chance at First Line Part 4

Jackson pushed Scott to the ground and picked up the ball.

"What the heck?!" I grumbled. Jackson made the goal, but it was soured by the taste of an egotistical ass. For me anyway. The crowd cheered because, hey, we got a point.

Jackson grinned as he high-fived some teammates, and I scowled at him, though he didn't know I was looking at him. He looked over to the crowd to where Lydia was sitting and frowned.

I looked over, too, but because Scott was also frowning. Lydia was screaming while she and Allison held up a sign that said "We luv u Jackson!' with a little heart on it. I winced. Ouch, that can't feel good. At least Allison didn't seem too thrilled to be doing it. That must've made him feel a little better.

I looked back to Scott and he was scowling. Then my eyes locked with Jackson's again, and this time he was smiling, but it was at me.

"No, no, no," I grumbled under my breath.

"Y/N, who's that boy looking at you? Your boyfriend?" Melissa asked.

"God, no. He's... He's... Well, he's Jackson, and he's a jerk," I replied.

"Well, Jackson seems to like you."

"Tell me about it," I said as Jackson licked his lip and bit it, still staring at me. The whistle blew, causing him to go back to the game. That whistle was becoming my savior.

All the players on the Beacon Hills team circled up, but not Scott. I listened in suspiciously.

"Who's the captain, you or me?" Jackson seethed.

"Jackson, come on, dude. I just want to win," Danny, the gay one on the team that everyone loved, replied.

"We will win."

"But-."

"What did I say? Huh? What... Did... I say?" Jackson enunciated.

Danny sighed in annoyance. "Don't pass to McCall." Jackson hit his chest in an 'attaboy' way and the group split, leaving Scott standing on the other side watching them. He must've heard, too.

"This isn't gunna be good," I whispered.

"What?" Melissa asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing. I just have a bad feeling, is all."

The game continued, but Scott had a newfound sense of purpose. Which means he had a newfound sense of anger. Meaning another reason to change on the field and kill someone. Not that I could share my worries with anyone I sat with. Sometimes I really wish Coach would let me sit with Stiles. I mean, he never played anyway.

I heard Scott's low growls from where I sat, and I whispered, "Control, Scott. Control yourself." I didn't know if he heard me because my hands were in front of my mouth as I bit on my thumb nervously, but I hoped he had.

I must not have been the only person that heard his growls because, on the field as they set up for another play, a few of the team members on each team backed away from him slowly.

The score was 3 to 5, visitors winning. I felt like I was about to gnaw off my thumbnail as I waited for the whistle to blow.

Lydia and Allison held up the flipside of the poster, and it read 'Jackson is #1!'. I wanted to rip the poster in half, but I settled for a menacing scowl.

As the ball was tossed up by a player, Scott leapt for it, using a player on the other team's face as a catapult. He hit the ground running for the goal. I hid my face in my hands, watching the play unfold through my fingers.