CHAPTER TWELVE
CARSON THE CHEERLEADER
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When I started dating Stiles, hell when I became friends with the kid, I knew he was a little off. Or a lot, depending on how you looked at it. But what I was witnessing right now? This was too funny.
I had been walking down the halls, trying to find Scott and Stiles. I had about five different girls come up to me, all asking for updates on Lydia. They all wanted to know how their 'bestie for life' was doing. I didn't have the heart to tell them that Lydia basically hated every single one of them and just kept walking. I ended up finding my boys, sat on a staircase in the middle of the building. They were conversing in low tones so I assumed it was werewolf business. As it turned out, it was Allison business instead.
"I'm really sorry for yesterday," Stiles began. He looked around awkwardly, not noticing I had walked up. "I'm trying. We'll get through this, I know because I love you."
I stifled a giggle, Scott was lit up like a freaking Christmas tree and my boyfriend looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. Or die from embarrassment, either one would suffice. Since Allison's grandfather had taken over as principal, the couple barely had time to even glance at each other. Every one of their movements was tracked. So Scott and Allison tried getting their lovey dovey messages through me and Stiles. Apparently, we were the only ones they could trust.
"I love you more than—oh my God! I can't—you and Allison just have to find a better way to communicate."
"Come on!" Scott exclaimed. "You and Carson are the only ones we can trust. Is she coming to the game tonight?"
"Yup," I said, plopping down next to Stiles. I pressed a kiss to his cheek before looking back at Scott. "She asked me to tell you. She figured Stiles would freak out and stop after having to say he loves you in public like that," I grinned.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "At least she's learning. Now tell us about your boss."
"Deaton?" I asked. "What happened with him?"
Scott looked around before turning back to us. "He thinks that Allison's family keeps some kind of record, like of all the different types of things that they've hunted."
"A record of things they've hunted? How many different things are there?" I cried. A few people looked over in confusion. I looked away awkwardly, running a hand through my hair. They shushed me. "Sorry. How many?"
"A lot apparently," Scott muttered. "Deaton said it would be like a book or something."
Stiles paused for a second, before clapping his hands together. "He probably means a bestiary."
"A what?" Scott and I exclaimed. The word seemed familiar but I couldn't put a finger on it. Stiles and I had done a lot of research on the supernatural, so after a while everything just kind of becomes Vampire Diaries related.
"A bestiary."
Scott laughed. "I think you mean bestiality."
Stiles coughed awkwardly and my eyes widened. I shook my head before smacking Scott's arm. "No, no he doesn't."
"It's like an encyclopedia of mythical creatures," Stiles added, looking as weirded out with Scott's comment as I was. That boy really needed to read a dictionary or something.
"How I am the only one who seems to not know anything about all this stuff?" Scott groaned.
"Okay, look. We're your best friends. You're a creature of the night. It's kind of like a priority of ours," Stiles told him, doing another one of his hand gestures.
"Okay, so if this bestiary," I cut in, throwing a pointed look a Scott, "Can tell us what that the hell this Godzilla looking freak is, and who—"
"We need to find that book," they said in unison. I looked at them oddly.
"Okay, that wasn't creepy at all..." I mumbled, standing up and brushing my skirt off. "Come on boys, we have a book to go find."
Twenty minutes later, Stiles and I had managed to track down Allison. She was outside studying in the cold. Why? We don't know. What I did know was that I was freezing my ass off out here. I need to invest in a warmer coat or something.
Anyways, we figured she'd be the best place to start, seeing how it would be her family's book we were looking for. Scott wanted to tag along, bless his heart, but Gerard was creeping around everywhere so yeah...
We had just finished explaining the whole bestiary thing and Allison giggled a bit.
"I think you mean—"
"No, I mean bestiary! And the two of you, I don't want to know what's going on in your heads," Stiles exclaimed.
"Okay, um," Allison started, looking down. "Can you describe it?"
"Well we think it's probably like a book, old, worn..." I began, trying to figure out the possibilities.
"Like bound in leather?" Allison said, her head shooting up. "Because I've seen my grandfather with a book like that."
Without another word, Stiles began sprinting back into the school. I furrowed my brow.
"Uh, okay then..." I muttered, taking a seat next to Allison.
"Where's he going?" she asked, tilting her head to the side as we watched him run up the stairs and into the building.
"Don't ask," I replied. "It's probably better if we don't know."
"So...want some candy?" I asked, digging through my bag for my half empty bag of M&Ms. She shrugged, putting her hand out for them.
"Did you see the last episode of the Vampire Diaries?" she asked, popping the colored candies in her mouth while scribbling an answer down on her paper.
"Damn that was crazy," I muttered. "Like what the hell was up with the ending?"
She shook her head. "Yeah and now it's going on a four week hiatus."
"They just can't pull that kind of shit. I need more shirtless Damon. And Elena needs to get her shit together and realize that Damon is the only one capable of loving her the way she needs to be loved."
Her brown eyes widened as her head whipped in my direction. "Are you insane?" she practically screeched. "Stefan is her one true love!"
"Yeah, but he's such a tool with his lame ass hair and his emotional issues. Damon's sexy and badass, cut and dry. No doubt about it."
"He tried to kill—"
She cut her rant off as Stiles ran back into sight.
"W-where...does....h-he...keep it?" he panted, gasping for air. He looked like he ran a freaking marathon.
"His office probably. But—" she went to continue, but he was already gone. In a quieter tone, she added, "I might be wrong?"
"He does know that he could just text me the questions right?" I asked, staring off at his attempt at sprinting. And this is what happens when Finstock doesn't let all of his players train at practice. Half of them can't run for long periods of time without wanting to collapse.
Allison giggles. "Well, they should bring Lexie back at least," she said, reverting back to our vampire discussion.
"Preach woman," I muttered, popping another handful of M&Ms. "You know, now that I think about it, Derek and Damon are kind of similar."
"Derek's a werewolf," Allison deadpanned. "Damon's a vampire. Two different species, Carson."
"Yeah, but everyone knows vampires don't exist Allison. Geez, get with the program. And besides, they're both dark and mysterious. They both get involved with the wrong girls, no offense to your aunt. And they both drive pretty sweet cars and wear leather."
"You wear leather, I wear leather," she noted. "Everybody wears leather."
"Maybe it's some kind of supernatural thing. Like anyone involved must wear a leather jacket or else."
"Stiles doesn't wear one," she pointed out.
I shrugged. "And when the Board of Supernatural Awesomeness comes to haul his ass to jail because of it, maybe he'll learn."
She raised an eyebrow but was cut off by Stiles running back to us. He was in front of us, taking a puff out of an inhaler. "You know drug dealers have been using disposable cell phones pretty successfully for like ever right?"
"My parents check every call, text, email, everything I send," Allison deadpanned. "Trust me, they'd find it."
"You do however, have the ability of texting me or Scott about things, aka less running dumbass," I said.
Stiles froze before glaring at me.
I grinned. "M&M?"
"You're lucky you're cute," he muttered. "Can you get the book?"
Allison bit her lip before shaking her head. "Not without his keys."
We all sat there in silence for a few moments. How the hell could we get his keys? He probably keeps them in his coat pockets...like the coat he'd be wearing tonight at the game. And if it gets colder tonight and Allison was cold, he'd probably give her his jacket like any doting grandfather would. Meaning Allison would have the keys right in her grasp...
"Bingo," I whispered. Then, looking at them, I grinned. "I think I have an idea..."
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You would never believe it, but the Cyclones were getting their asses kicked. By the Beavers. The freaking Beavers! God they even sounded weak. But apparently not.
The entire crowed cringed as another player was slammed into the ground. Number 42 from the other team stood menacingly over our fallen player. He looked gargantuan, almost like an ogre. Wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley.
I was sat on the player's bench next to Stiles. I was rubbing my gloved hand together, praying not only for the team but for myself not getting hypothermia. Can't really help catch a monster if you're in the hospital apparently.
"Come on!" Finstock yelled from his place in front of us. "Is that thing even a teenager? I want to see a birth certificate." He groaned when no one listened and took a seat on the opposite side of Stiles.
"Who or what is that genetic experiment gone wrong?" Finstock grumbled to my boyfriend.
"Eddy Abomowitz, Coach," Stiles said, his breath coming out in puffs of white air. Why the hell did lacrosse season have to be in the dead of winter? "They call him the Abomination."
"Charming," I grimaced, watching as his pile drove another kid to the ground.
Coach's eyebrows raised and he leaned around Stiles to look at me. "Bradley? What the hell are you doing on my bench? Players only!"
I shared a quick glance with Stiles before biting my lip. "I, uh...cheerleading?"
"We don't have cheerleaders," Coach replied, a skeptical look on his face.
My eyes widened. Can I catch a break? "Well, you see...that's why we're losing. Lack of school spirit. I thought I could, you know, um cheer and uh get people excited."
"I haven't seen you cheer once," Finstock quipped. I swear to God, I'll kill this guy one day.
"I'm, uh, waiting for a, you know, a lull in the, uh, screaming and cringing...?" I tried with a shrug. Stiles was biting his lip to keep in the laughter from my sad attempt.
Finstock raised an eyebrow before grinning. "I like it! Get my players pumped Bradley. Good work!" he yelled before walking to go check on other players. Or yell at Greenburg.
"Cheerleading? Really?" Stiles laughed.
A witty comeback was right on the tip of my tongue but then I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. My plan was falling into place; Allison had Gerard's jacket wrapped around her.
"It's go time," I mumbled to him, grabbing his hand. He stood and I went to follow him but was cut off.
"Bradley? Where the hell do you think you're going?" Finstock yelled, looking up from where he was talking to Ricky Garcia.
"Oh what fresh hell is this?" I muttered. "Yeah Coach?"
"You're my cheerleader, I need you here. Not gallivanting off with Stilinski," he ordered.
I groaned. Stiles stuffed his other hand in his pocket. "What about me Coach?"
"Are you on the field?" Finstock asked.
Stiles furrowed his brow. "Well, no but uh—"
"Then I don't care what the hell you do," he yelled over, looking back down at Ricky.
I groaned. "Alright, new plan of action. You go and get the book from creepy ass granddad's office. I'll stay here and make sure no one wolf's out or something."
"I'll text you when I find it," he muttered, pressing a quick to kiss to my cheek before running off.
Another player hit the ground as I sat back down. "God, I hope we're okay..."
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"How many fingers am I holding up?" Finstock asked Danny.
"Four?" Danny asked in a spaced out tone, holding some ice to his forehead.
Coach and I shared a look before glancing back at the two fingers he was holding up. "Say two."
Danny blinked spastically. "Two?"
"Great, get out there," Finstock grinned manically. He shoved Danny towards the field and he more or less stumbled his way there. A lacrosse stick went flying after him. "Have a stick."
I cringed as Danny barely caught it. Tentatively, I asked, "Uh, Coach are you sure—"
"You're still one person short Coach," the ref yelled from the field.
Oh just what we need. We were out of players. For the past seven minutes, Coach has been putting back in every player whose Abomination induced injury could be overlooked. That meant half our players, minus Jackson and Scott, were in with possible concussions. And I don't know if you've ever seen a lacrosse game, but a team doesn't do well with concussed players.
Coach let out a yell, clearly pissed at how his semi-final game was going. "Where's Stilinski?"
I face palmed. You have to be freaking kidding me right now.
"Bradley? Where the hell is you idiotic spaz of a boyfriend?" Coach yelled. I raised an eyebrow at the word boyfriend. Apparently Bobby Finstock was a lot more observant than we thought.
"He's not here, obviously," I sassed. Then with faux shock, I gasped, "Maybe you're like that kid in Home Alone. You made your players disappear."
He rolled his eyes at me before turning to the field. His eyes landed on someone and he smiled. "You! Do you play lacrosse?" I couldn't see past the field lights. And then the person stood up.
Boyd. He grinned, stripping himself of his jacket. His muscles clearly impressed our lunatic Coach who grinned. "Oh oh oh! We got ourselves a player!"
I looked over at the field, where Scott was. And under that mask, I knew he had the same look of worry as I did. He made a gesture at me, like he was flipping a book. I shrugged and mouthed Stiles.
Where was he?
Minutes later, after Boyd was suited up, my pocket buzzed. I slipped a hand in and pulled out my phone.
FROM: STILES <3
Need ur help. Tryin 2 find book. Come quik
I raised an eyebrow at the message. Stiles never did the whole shorten the text thing. So seeing cardinal numbers where the word would have been and missing letters and the abbreviations made me curious. What the hell was going on?
Finstock was too busy gushing over Boyd as the ref was preparing to call game in or whatever. If he noticed I was gone later, sucks to suck. I stood and quickly made my way through the space between the bleachers, shooting Allison a quick smile.
I made my way quickly through the parking lot, hand stuffed in my pockets. I was trying my best not to trip over my own feet or cracks in the cement. It was dark and the lights from the field were lighting it partially. A wave of déjà vu hit me as I rounded the school and headed up the steps. This felt oddly similar to the night of the formal, only this time, I was entering the school and trying to save Lydia, not help Stiles find a book.
The second I entered the building, another wave of déjà vu occurred, this time from the whole school Alpha incident. The halls were eerily quiet, none of the lights turned on. School was disturbing at night and frankly, I wanted out of here as fast I could make it.
I made my way down the familiar hallways, heading towards the principal's office. Then, all we'd need to do is find the book, put everything back in its place, lock up and high tail it out of here with the bestiary, plain and simple.
But apparently, the universe had other ideas. I had barely made it another five feet before I heard a noise. It was barely audible, like the wind had whipped past me. And then it happened again. Despite my warm attire, I knew that there were definitely going to be goose bumps on my arms. What in holy hell was going on?
"Stiles?" I asked quietly. "Is that you?"
But instead of seeing my dorky, buzz cut sporting boyfriend, someone grabbed me around the waist. My eyes widened and my mouth formed to let out what was sure to be a scream. Whoever was holding me clearly thought accordingly, slapping a large hand over my face. My yells were muffled and my feet were lifted off the ground.
I was being kidnapped. Lovely.
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