TWENTY-THREE

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TWENTY-THREE

While Lydia took care of Parrish, I went with Scott and Stiles to check up on Coach who was at rehab for the past seven months ever since he got shot by an arrow.

We approached the door. Coach was on the couch, his head cocked to the side, in a funny position.

"Oh, my..." Stiles muttered. Stiles opened the door and allowed me to go first, I smiled and entered, walking over to Coach. "What's he doing?" He whispered. "What?"

"Hey, Coach. It's Scott, Stacey, and Stiles." Scott started and sat down next to him. Stiles sat on the other side and I remained standing near Scott.

Stiles waved a hand over Coach's face. "Coach, you're in rehab. You didn't have a lobotomy," Stiles pointed out.

"Coach?" I ask, cocking my head.

After we got no reply, Stiles looked down at the chess game. He was about to reach forward but Coach quickly snatched his hand.

"Don't you touch it." Coach grunts. Coach looked at Stiles. "I have Nurse Gonzalez by the balls of the last three moves," he chuckled. "And she knows it."

"Let it go." Stiles rolled his eyes. "You're checking out of this place now."

"Not a chance." Coach shakes his head.

"Okay, Coach, we know you're fine-" Coach cuts me off by shushing me.

"I have a debilitating disease." Coach continued. "It's called "I'm not going to take another arrow in my stomach-phobia". Look it up." He hissed.

"Nobody's shooting arrows at anyone, okay?" Scott tells him. "We just need you to Coach the charity game."

Coach scoffs and laughs. "Charity? Not a chance."

"How exactly have you been conning them into letting you stay here?" Stiles asked, a frown resting on his face.

"I, uh... I have relapses." Coach explained. "It's serious. I've had seven of them."

"So once a month?" I counted.

"Yeah, you see, uh, every time they are just about to discharge me," he clicks his tongue. "I relapse."

"And no one's noticed that pattern?" Stiles muttered.

Coach turned his head towards Stiles. "I have phenomenal health insurance. So why don't you guys get the hell out of here. I hate charity games. They're meaningless."

"I don't think the charities agree," Stiles whispered.

"What's it for?" Coach retorts.

"Cancer," I replied.

"For or against?" Coach looked over at me.

I scoffed. "Against, Coach. Deeply against."

"Yeah. Okay, well, I'm deeply not interested." Coach says. He whistles, making two-hand gestures for us to get out of here.

"Coach, we need you." Scott begins.

Coach placed two hands on either of the boys' shoulder. "I will never Coach there again."

"That's okay," Stiles agreed. "Because we don't actually need you to Coach the game."

"We need you to forfeit." Scott finishes.

That sparked some interest in Coach's eye.


"Mason, you know your part..." We all sat around in the science room, going over the plan for tonight.

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