CHAPTER SIX
LOCKER ROOM FIASCOS
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STILES POV
"They're like perfect for each other!" she squealed. "He's like so freaking in love with her, it's adorable. I want someone like that!"
I rolled my eyes at her with a grin. "I like you like that," I said, mumbling.
"Huh?" she asked. Her chocolate brown eyes bored into mine with a questioning look.
Almost automatically, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. God, I've been doing a lot of blushing lately. "Nothing."
Without another word, I ducked into the locker room. The door pretty much slammed in her face.
God, I'm an idiot. If she ever found out...dear god, I think I'd die. She'd probably laugh in my face. I mean, just look at her dating record! Besides Jackson, she's gone out with like half the guys on the lacrosse team. Sure, it was only for a first date or two with all of them except Jackson, but it proved that she'd never go out with me. They were all popular, and funny, and had abs.
I was just pale, awkward, sarcastic Stiles. The best friend.
"Stupid, stupid," I muttered, walking through the locker room. I passed Scott, who looked like he was having a mental breakdown. I kept walking before that actually hit me. I quickly backtracked.
He leaned up against the metal racks, just staring into space.
"Did you apologize to Allison?" I asked.
"Yeah," he answered, sounding breathless.
"Well, is she giving you a second chance or..." I asked, trailing off.
"Yeah," he repeated.
"Yeah, alright! So everything's good," I laughed, going to walk off.
"No," I heard him say.
I walked back yet again. "No?"
"Remember the hunters?" he said. "Her dad is one of them."
Holy crap. Did he just say that Allison's dad was a hunter?
"Her dad?" I echoed.
"Shot me," he said.
"Allison's father?" I asked, my voice slightly going up.
"With a crossbow," he finished, eyes slightly wide.
My mind clearly wasn't processing this information. I took another few seconds, before asking again.
"Allison's father—"
"Yes, her father!" he yelled. And that's when the panic attack began setting in. "Oh my God... oh my god."
I rushed over to him, patting him on the face. "No, Scott, snap out of it. You okay? Hey, hey he didn't recognize right?"
"No, no, I don't know," he responded.
"Does she know about it?" I asked him.
His eyes widened even more. "I-I don't know. What if she does?"
I could hear a whistle blowing. Coach.
"Okay, just focus on lacrosse," I told him, going to pick up his stuff. "Take this, and this, and this. Just focus on lacrosse for now. That's all you gotta do. Here we go!"
I hit him on the shoulder a few times, before walking off. I almost tripped in the process.
So Allison's father was a hunter. This was not going to be good.
As I headed onto the field, I saw Carson sitting up in the bleachers, notebook in hand. She looked up, seeing me. She shot me a bright smile and waved.
I awkwardly waved back. And here's yet another challenge. Let's hope she didn't hear me.
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CARSON POV
As I sat up in the bleachers, doing pointless chemistry homework (thank you Mr. Harris), the lacrosse team were about to begin practice. Coach was yelling about something and told Jackson to take some kind of stick.
I could see Stiles in line with the rest of the guys. Well, that was good. He was normally benched for everything.
Whistles began blowing and Coach began yelling orders. "Yeah Jackson that's how you do it." Whistle. "Greenberg, take a lap...Faster Greenberg!"
Oh Greenberg, you never learn do you?
"McCall, what are you waiting for? Let's go," Coach said.
Scott stood there for a second before running towards Jackson. All he had to do was bypass my ex and make the shot.
He ran for it, and turned to go around Jackson...only to have Jackson knock him on his ass. Even from here, I could see Stiles wince.
Figuring I wasn't going to get any homework done, I put my notebook in my bag. I watched as Finstock went over to Scott, no doubt taunting him with some kind of sarcastic remark.
"My grandmother can move faster than that. And she's dead," Finstock said. Yup, taunting remarks 101.
I rolled my eyes. Finstock was one of my least favorite people. And yet somehow, he was my econ teacher. Lucky me. How is he even qualified to teach anything?
"McCall's gonna do it again," Finstock yelled. Scott got up, running back to the front of the line. "McCall's gonna do it again."
Scott took off running at the sound of the whistle. He advanced towards Jackson quickly. My eyes widened. This wasn't going to be good.
Within seconds, Scott rammed into Jackson, knocking him to the ground. Instantly, Jackson began clutching his shoulder. Scott grabbed his helmet, before falling to his knees.
"Oh, crap," I breathed.
Stiles seemed to have the same thought process as I did. As the entire team and Finstock raced to Jackson's side, Stiles went immediately to Scott. Not caring if Finstock would yell at me or not, I threw my bag on my shoulder, before racing to the field.
I ran towards them. Stiles was trying to figure out what was wrong.
"I can't control it Stiles," Scott practically growled. "It's happening."
My mind quickly put two and two together. He was shifting.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I cut in. "Right now? Like right here?"
Stiles looked back at me, realizing I was behind them. He then turned to Scott. "Come on, get up."
"Where are we going?" I asked them as we ran off the field. I was a little's ways behind them, trying to keep my bag on my shoulder. They were trying to get off the field inconspicuously. As I tried to keep up, a flash of black caught my eye. I briefly looked towards the edge of the field. Derek Hale watched as we exited. He glared at us with wild eyes, hands in his pockets. He wore all black yet again.
Dear God, this guy was everywhere.
I quickly shook my head. As I looked back, Derek was gone. I raised an eyebrow, before running after
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The three of us finally made it into the school. Stiles immediately led Scott down a few hallways before we ended up near the locker room. I opened the door and the two boys practically ran inside. I followed them into the locker room. Scott was crouching down, as Stiles tried to ask him questions. I was standing behind them, further back into the locker room. I wasn't sure I liked where this was going.
"Scott you okay?" Stiles asked.
"Get away from me!" Scott yelled, a feral look in his eyes. His now golden eyes. The eyes that now were among fangs, long sideburns, and a deformed looking nose.
Stiles scrambled back, as I began slowly walking backwards. Within seconds, I broke into a run.
Stiles and I were practically running in circles. We were running around all the lockers, trying to get away from Scott. I never thought I'd see the day where my best friend was trying to kill me.
I wasn't going to lie, I was slightly panicking. "Oh, crap," I yelled. Stiles kept pushing me along, urging me to run. My bag fell to the floor, but I kept going. Who cares about chemistry homework anyways?
A bang was heard from up above. Stiles and I looked up to see Scott crouching on top of the bleachers. Oh come on! Clearly the world wants me to die at school.
"Damn it," I yelled, as Stiles and I backed up into the lockers. And then we were running again.
We were circling the lockers yet again, as Scott began letting out animalistic growls. We backed up behind a corner, and Stiles walked into a fire extinguisher.
"The fire extinguisher," I cried out. Maybe that could help us.
Stiles seemed to get what I was going for, going to take it off the wall. He fumbled with it for a few seconds, trying to hold it somewhat properly. Scott leapt down from the bleachers right when Stiles figured it out.
White foam spurted out of the nozzle, coating Scott with it. Stiles quickly pulled me behind the corner with him. We pressed our back to the walls, pretty much praying that our impromptu plan worked.
"Dear god," I practically begged. "I'm not dying at school."
"Stiles...Carson," we heard Scott breath.
I gulped before going around the corner with Stiles.
Scott was on the floor, perfectly human. "What happened?"
Stile let out a giant sigh, dropping the now-empty fire extinguisher to the ground with a clang. He yanked one of his gloves off, whipping it at the wall.
"You tried to kills us," I said.
"It's like I told you before," Stiles said, bending down next to Scott. "It's the anger, your pulse rising."
"It's a trigger," I added. "All that violence is going to make your pulse rise, Scott."
"But that's lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game if you two hadn't noticed."
"Well, it's going to be a lot more violent of you end up killing someone on the field," Stiles told him. "You can't play Saturday, you're gonna have to get out of the game."
"But I'm first line," Scott whined.
"Not anymore," I said. "Not if you don't wanna kill someone."
Scott looked at me with a sad expression.
"Carson's right," Stiles concluded. "You can't be first line anymore."
All Scott did was nod, as silence rang throughout the locker room.
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