CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
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My life was literally a mess.
School had ended a few hours ago and everyone else was busy getting ready for the big game tonight. We were in the state championship and it was a colossal deal for our school. Coach was literally trying to bribe everyone in Econ to come out and support the team. Basically everyone was going because they wanted to avoid the mandatory D he was threatening to give anyone who didn't show.
And then there was me who was avoiding the game like the plague. I knew I should be there. Shit was literally going to go down tonight. We all knew that Gerard had some kind of plan. Scott had texted me a little while ago, talking about how Gerard was apparently the one controlling Jackson now. And that Jackson was playing the game tonight. Meaning that our enemy had a giant weapon right on the freaking field.
I should be there to help, to try and do something to get Scott the ability to take Jackson out before he could cause harm to anyone. But here I was, curled up on my bed in Stiles' lacrosse hoodie, staring blankly at the wall. I didn't want to go to the game, mainly because Stiles was surely going to be there.
He had literally avoided me ever since our encounter in Morrell's office. I had tried just about everything short of kidnapping him and tying him to a chair. I didn't want to seem overly desperate but there was the nagging voice in my head shouting 'what did I do wrong?'
I missed Stiles. We had talked every day since we were little and we were always attached at the hip. And now Batman was off doing his work without Catwoman. Batman wasn't supposed to desert Catwoman. That's not how a love story was supposed to freaking go.
So here I was, the embodiment of pity and self-loathing, curled up in my boyfriend's sweatshirt. I mean, he still was my boyfriend right? There had been no finality to what we were and I was literally clinging onto that small sliver of hope coming from that. He talked about how he wanted to be with me forever. Last time I checked, forever was a lot longer than a few measly months or so.
I picked my phone up from beside me and sighed. Slipping it back in my pocket, I reflected on my lack of a social life right now. No new messages. No new calls. Nothing. Absolute silence on his end. Actually, silence on everyone's end. Scott had only contacted me over the past few days to deal with kanima/Gerard business. Allison was riding the crazy train right now. The only one had continuously kept contact with me was Lydia, who had been driving me to school the past few days. I seriously needed to get some mode of transportation.
Speaking of mode of transportation, a car sounded from outside my house. My heart raced at the sound and I leapt off my bed, jogging over to my window. It had to be Stiles. Who else would be coming to my house right now? A giant grin was stretching across my face as I looked down, hoping to see the powder blue Jeep parked in my driveway. The smile instantly dropped and the butterflies were replaced with panic as I recognized the vehicle parked in my driveway.
It was Jackson's infamous Porsche.
"What the..." I murmured, staring down at the car.
Why was Jackson here? He hadn't been within fifty feet of my house since we were fourteen. Hell, he had a restraining order against me. I swear to God, I better not get in trouble for him being here. Another thought that crossed my mind was whether Gerard had sent him here. But then again, if he wanted to kill me, wouldn't he have already done it?
I made no movement as I stared down at the car. In the front windshield, I saw someone lean forward. Jackson was still in human form and I could see him cocking an eyebrow at me. I put my hands out in a 'what the hell' gesture. He replied by gesturing for me to hold on.
Seconds later, my phone buzzed in my pocket. So now he decides to text me. I rolled my eyes as I pulled it out and unlocked it.
FROM: JACKASS
I'm driving you to the game. Get your ass down here.
There was no doubt in my mind that this was the real Jackson. Still demanding as always. I shook my head while scoffing and I replied.
TO: JACKASS
I'm not going, Jackass. Get off my property before I get arrested because you're within 50 feet of me.
FROM: JACKASS
Carson, I'm being serious. I need to talk to you. It's about the game.
I bit my lip. If he knew something, about anything pertaining to what Gerard was planning, it could be a massive help. I wasn't really sure how the kanima-master bond worked and when the master was Matt, Jackson seemed to know squat about what was going on. But maybe with Gerard it was different. It was worth a shot.
It could possibly be a shot in the dark, but I was going to take it.
"I better not regret this Whittemore," I muttered as I slipped my feet into my Vans.
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I had been in Jackson's car for a total of fifteen minutes now. He hadn't said a damn word to me. And we were almost at the school.
"What was the point of this?" I asked, breaking the silence in the car. "Because if you're here to bore me to death, I think it's safe to say you accomplished that."
I could see his knuckles whiten as he gripped the wheel tighter. "Something's going to happen tonight, isn't it?"
I groaned, turning to look at the blonde boy. "Are you telling me you know nothing about what's happening tonight? What the hell did you bring me out here for?"
"I figured you and the two losers knew something," Jackson snapped.
I rolled my eyes. "You're ridiculous. So now I'm forced to attend this stupid game when I wanted to avoid it to begin with. Watching people die wasn't really on my agenda tonight, Whittemore."
I could see Jackson balk out the corner of my eye but the car kept driving smoothly along. At least he didn't swerve or anything. I don't really feel like dying today, either.
"Die?" he panicked.
"You do realize that when Matt was controlling you, you killed like a dozen people, right? You're a weapon of vengeance, Jackson. And now that Gerard is in control, I have a feeling all of our friend's blood is going to be on your hands."
His expression tightened and he bit his lip as he pulled into the school parking lot. All around us, people were cheering and heading over to the field and the locker rooms to support their friends and children.
Jackson pulled into a spot, parked and turned to me. "Carson, if something happens tonight and you see me coming towards you, run the other way."
He was deadly serious as he stared at me, jaw locked in a grimace. Jackson didn't want anyone to get hurt. He was an ass, but he wasn't a murderer. It wasn't his fault he was puppet to Gerard's cruel game.
I nodded after a moment. "You don't have to ask me twice." I gave him a weak smile, before turning to get out. But I was stopped as Jackson latched onto my hand. I turned around to find him staring at me wide eyed.
"And Lydia," Jackson murmured. "You have to make sure she's okay."
"Since when do you care about Lydia?" I snapped. "All you've done to her is made her cry. You're literally destroying her heart, you know that right?"
He sucked in a breath. "Carson, please." His face was almost heartbreaking.
"You really do care about her, don't you?" I asked.
He nodded rapidly. "I-I..."
"She still cares about you. She won't admit it but she does."
"She shouldn't."
I shook my head at him. It was weird seeing this side of Jackson, just openly admitting to caring about someone. "Jackson, I've known you for a very long time. And in that time, I have seen you ruin lives and hurt people and just be an overall douche bag. But there's one thing I have learned about you. You're a good person, underneath. You're ice and she's fire. All you needed was someone to melt the exterior."
"You of all people shouldn't be saying I'm a good person. After what I did to you," Jackson muttered.
"You broke up with me for my best friend, yeah I know. I moved on. Because I realized that you and I sucked together. But you and Lydia? Epic. You guys fight like cats and dogs, but she's the one person that you've ever really cared about Jackson. And to be honest, kanima or not? I don't think you're going to hurt her."
He nodded wearily. "Just...run the other way."
"Trust me, I will. Just whatever happens tonight, you're a good person Jackson."
I gave him a light smile before getting out of his car. Almost instantly my ears were flooded with people screaming about state and every other lacrosse game related thing. My nostrils flared and I stuffed my hands in my pockets. My mind was still trying to wrap around the conversation I had just had with Jackson. The tin man really did have a heart.
My eyes locked on a familiar jeep and my heart clenched. He was already here. I briskly walked towards it but was met with disappointment when I discovered he wasn't in it. Stiles must already be inside the locker room. And as people brushed past me, I saw a few people wandering into the locker rooms, despite not being players. I bit my lip, an idea coming to mind. Was I really going to go into the locker room to talk to him?
I looked down at the hoodie I was wearing, which had the name Stilinski splayed across the back in big white letters. His deodorant and cologne was still wafting from the fabric if I was to put my nose to it. My heart was literally breaking because of this. I had to talk to him. One way or another. If he wouldn't answer my texts, maybe cornering him in a boy's locker room was the only answer.
"God that sounds really clingy," I muttered to myself as I pushed past teens and parents.
The door to the locker room closed behind me and the chill of the winter air cut off immediately. I moved past a few players who instantly greeted me.
"Bradley, what's shaking girl?"
"Hey, wanna hang out after the game tonight?"
"Stilinski, your girlfriend's come to touch you in your little special place!"
That last one got a punch on the arm. He grimaced in pain and I smirked. I looked around, my eyes instantly locking in the familiar buzz cut. He hadn't heard the last remark which included his name as he faced Coach's office. I smiled faintly before moving towards him. A sound of static buzzed through the air and I jumped.
"Good morning," Finstock greeted, looking at his players. He was holding a mic in one hand it looked like he was wearing a pilot's jacket. Like he was getting ready for a Top Gun audition.
"What the hell?" I murmured as the players watched on attentively.
"In less than an hour, air craft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind."
"What?" I cried out, looking around to see if anyone was confused as I was. But they were all entranced. Stiles was at the front of the group, acting the same way.
Down on a bench, Scott had his head in his hands, clearly not enthused with Coach's antics. I smiled lightly and made my way over to him. I tapped him on the shoulder.
He looked back and his eyes widened, surprised to see me in the boys locker room. "Carson—"
"What the hell is Coach going on about now?"
Scott shrugged, shaking his head.. "He does this every year."
"Seriously?" I asked. He nodded.
"We're fighting for a right to live!" Coach cheered, causing the players to break out into applause and cries.
My brow furrowed. I could have sworn I had heard these words before. Just not in a sports setting. As it hit me, I groaned. "Is this the—"
"Yeah, it's the speech from Independence Day," Scott sighed. With a laugh, he added, "It's Coach's favorite movie."
"But as the day when the world declared in one voice," Finstock cried out, cutting Scott off.
"I know, he only made us watch it four thousand times in class," I chuckled in a whisper.
"We will not go quietly into the night!"
"I'm assuming he doesn't know any sports speeches," I murmured.
Scott shrugged again. "I don't think he cares."
"Today we celebrate our independence day!"
The locker room broke out into cheers and Coach was soaking it all in. I went to go ask Stiles to talk to me for a minute alone when someone made their presence known. Gerard Argent made his way out of the office, clapping Finstock on the back.
"Well-spoken Coach. I might have chosen something with a little more historical value, but there's no denying your passion," Gerard grinned, eyes looming over all of us. A slightly more sinister version was sent towards Scott and me. I looked over at Stiles, who was watching me with a deer in the headlights expression. Guess he wasn't keen on seeing me here.
"What's he planning?" I whispered.
Scott only stared back at me, completely unaware as well.
"And while I haven't been here long," Gerard continued. "There's no denying my pride in having a winning team for this school. I know you'll all be brilliant tonight, even with only one co-captain leading you."
"He's benching you?" I muttered in confusion to my werewolf friend. Oh this can't be good.
Scott's eyes were wide and panic covered his features.
"Now, I am your principal, but I am also a fan. So don't think I'll be content to watch you merely beat this team. Get out there and murder them."
My eyes widened as he walked off. Murder. Now if that wasn't an underlying message to us, I don't know what was.
Coach, clearly unaware of the deadliness, nodded. "You heard him. Asses on the field!"
Scott left me almost instantly, jogging after Coach, yelling about being benched. As Finstock delved into some tale about 'academic performance', I scanned the room for my boyfriend. He was already heading out, stick and helmet in hand.
"Stiles!" I yelled, jogging after him.
I could literally feel the blood boiling beneath my skin. I knew I was probably going to cause a scene. And I knew that I was probably overreacting but at this point, I was fed up. Fed up to the point where I wanted to throw something at someone, preferably a rock. Maybe at Greenberg, since he was moving so goddamn slow in front of me. I finally caught up to Stiles when we made it outside and I yanked on his shoulder, pulling him back.
Deer in the headlights, again. "Carson, I have to—"
"Wow, five syllables. Do you want a medal or a cookie?" I snapped. "What the actual hell is going on with you right now?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Car—"
"No, seriously. You've been ignoring me like a disease for the past few days and I want to know what's up. Did I do something to make you mad? Or is this some kind of new couple thing I don't know about because seriously, Stiles, I'm freaking out overhear."
"I wasn't ignoring—"
"Oh bullshit, Stiles," I snapped, not caring the people who were watching on. "I have literally been freaking the hell out wondering what the hell I did wrong. Why you're treating me like this. What did I do? What, do you not want to be with me anymore or something? Because if that's the case why don't you grow the hell up and tell me."
He stood stone still, just watching me completely have a meltdown. He wasn't jumping to deny it. He wasn't jumping in to tell me I was being paranoid. Maybe this was what he wanted. I could feel tears pricking behind my eyes but I wasn't about to let them shed. No, I wasn't to give him that satisfaction. I bit my lip before walking away.
And as I walked away, I was fairly certain I left my heart with him.
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Despite the fact that I definitely did not want to be at this stupid game, I had no way of getting home. And no one was willing to take me. So here I was, sat in the damn bleachers, freezing my ass off in Stiles' damn hoodie which was only making me more annoyed by the second.
Normally on a day like this, I would be sat on the player's bench and Stiles could wrap his arms around me and we'd warm and happy and cuddly. Now that image kind of made me want to vomit and simultaneously break something. He was literally just leaving me alone without no word or warning—oh God, I sounded like a broken record.
I grumbled to myself as I sat between Mrs. McCall and the Sheriff. I had no friends here in the stands that I actually liked and Scott was with Stiles so he was out. Mama McCall was talking to me about something that I was pretty sure involved nurse work. She had originally started the conversation about the supernatural and if there was anything I wanted to tell her. I merely laughed and brushed it off, saying I wasn't going to be supernatural any day soon. And then the Sheriff sat down so we had to shut up about that specific topic.
There was a slight uncomfortableness sitting next to my—frankly I don't know what to call Stiles at this point. Well, either way it was slightly uncomfortable sitting next to his dad, but I got over it.
"And then I said—" Mrs. McCall started but was cut off by Stiles' father.
"Oh God," Mr. Stilinski groaned. "Why is my son running out on the field?"
My head shot up and my eyes widened as I saw a kid in a jersey with the number 'twenty four' running out with a helmet on. Finstock was letting Stiles' play. On the field. With the team. Holy crap Stiles was playing. The part of me that was mad at him was pretty much overridden as I stared at the familiar jersey. I looked down at my sweatshirt and then back at him.
He was playing.
"Maybe because he's on the team?" Mrs. McCall laughed, not getting our confusion.
The Sheriff's face dropped. "H-He is. He's on the team. My son is on the field," he let out, it finally registering. He began to stand up, thrusting a fist in the air. "My son is on the field!"
Everyone around us stared and I let out a laugh.
"I'm guessing he doesn't play often," Mrs. McCall laughed as he sat back down.
I shook my head. "Not a damn day in his life."
"Do you think anything's going to happen tonight?" Mrs. McCall asked. Looking around and lowering her tone, she whispered, "Anything...supernatural?"
"Scott's benched for tonight," I responded.
She raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Personally? I think we're all screwed," I muttered, thrusting my hands in my pocket.
The ref blew his whistle and instantly the clock started counting down. But the thing was, the clock didn't just symbolize the game counting down. It was symbolizing that our time was beginning to run out.
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Every five seconds, Coach had to put someone else in. Isaac had shown up out of nowhere and had been taking down his own teammates, just so Scott could get put in. It had ended abruptly, with Jackson taking Isaac out. Mama McCall and I seemed to have formed the cringing committee because we could literally hear bones snapping from over here. Coach was getting fed up and finally sent Scott in, but I felt like it wasn't going to be enough.
Lydia had also shown up out of nowhere, and was currently sitting next to me and Mr. Stilinski in the middle. She looked slightly out of place with me and the adults, used to sitting with snobby girls who tried to schmooze their way onto the popularity ladder. My heart literally broke for her as I watched her eyeing Jackson on the field with a look of sadness. That boy really needed to grow a pair and tell her what he told me. I had attempted to talk to her about it, but she was a little bent on talking to me about my boy issues.
"How are you and Stiles?" Lydia asked quietly, leaning into my side.
I shrugged. "Lydia I really don't want to talk about this now."
She just gave me a look, glancing down at my sorta boyfriend. At this point, I didn't know what to call him after I blew up at him.
Lacrosse wise, he was dying out there. Ball after ball was slamming off his head, which usually elicited a cringe from me. I was letting out little small encouragements under my breath and Lydia was rolling her eyes at me.
"You two seriously need to grow up and have sex or something to fix it," she mumbled to me.
I balked. "Lydia! His dad is literally sitting five feet from you," I whisper shouted.
She shrugged. "I'm just telling it like it is. You have pent up aggression towards him and he definitely wouldn't mind buying a ticket on the Carson coaster."
"Please, never call me that again," I shuddered.
On the field, Stiles took another ball of the head.
"Oh, crap," Stiles' father mumbled.
Lydia shook her head, cringing. "He's just warming up."
"He's been on the field for half the game," his father muttered.
The clock was still ticking and we weren't doing that great. It was seven to nine, the other side with the latter score. I mean for God's sake, we had already lost half of our players. It was like a game of checkers and our side only had so many pieces left to win with. I merely groaned, putting my head in my hands. We were getting murdered out there.
And then out of nowhere, it happened. The ball flew out of one of the opposing player's net sticks and rolled across the grass. Right in front of Stiles'. You could hear the other players yelling about the location of the ball and Stiles stared at it before scooping it up. My heart lurched as he began dashing down the field, from the other players. I could faintly hear him screaming in terror.
"Holy shit, he has the ball," I let out.
"Oh crap," Mr. Stilinski groaned as his son stopped in front of the goal.
Stiles made no move to toss it in. The other players were heading right towards him, no doubt about to knock him on his ass if he didn't move fast. Finstock was ranting on the field about him being an idiot.
My eyes were flickering between the other team and Stiles before I leapt out of my seat. "Shoot it!" I screamed.
His eyes locked on me for a split second before he sent the ball sailing into the net. The goalie missed it by a long shot. He made the goal. The crowd erupted into an array of cheers and screams and Mr. Stilinski was losing it next to me. Lydia and I squealed while hugging each other.
"I scored a goal!" Stiles yelled from the field.
And it seemed that one goal was the game changer. After that miraculous moment, it was like Stiles had this new sense of confidence. He managed to get a hold of every ball from that point on, bobbing and weaving out of the other players before sending the ball into the big net. We all kept screaming, every fan of Beacon Hills now on their feet. Everything was set in motion and we were tied for a win. It was going to happen. We were going to win the game. Another ball into the set and it was ten to nine. There was literally no time left in the game. No time for them to send us into overtime or anything. With only seconds to spare, Beacon Hills had won.
Every player on the field donned in red was suddenly jumping all over Stiles' screaming and cheering at the kid they had once seen as useless to be on the team. Stiles was still on the outside of the circle and his eyes found mine in the crowd. Everyone around was hugging and cheering and screaming. But it was almost like a movie as him and I stared at each other. Like that one moment where it was just the two of us.
Our own snow globe world.
I was smiling like an idiot, my hands still clapping together. And he no longer had that deer in the headlights look as he smiled back in bliss. Every angry feeling I had towards him melted away. I had to apologize to him. I needed him, I realized in that moment. He was the only thing that could truly make me smile like I was now.
Three seconds.
Two seconds.
One second.
The buzzer went off and the fans started screaming almost ten times as loud as they had before. The game was over, we had won. Nothing had happened. To be honest, I don't even think Jackson was on the field anymore. Scott was down there, looking around in confusion. He had definitely been expecting something to happen. I mean, we all did. But nothing was going to happen.
Or at least, that's what I thought.
The giant spotlights lining the field began shutting off with loud booms. Suddenly the field was immersed in darkness and someone let out a scream. People were suddenly running around me, yelling and screaming. It was pure chaos as my eyes began adjusting to the darkness.
Mama McCall was still beside me. "Oh God, Scott..."
I gulped and gripped her hand. "I can get you down to the field. Just, don't let go."
I began fighting through the crowd, shoving people out of the way. I held onto to Mrs. McCall tightly, trying to get off the bleachers and to Scott and the others.
"I think someone is hurt on the field!" I heard Mrs. McCall call out to me.
"Oh crap," I muttered. "Scott?"
"Scott, where are you?"
We were being pushed and shoved until someone grabbed onto us. "Mom? Carson? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, we're fine," I muttered.
She nodded. "But somebody is hurt, somebody is down on the field," she gulped.
The lights started up again, only to shed spotlight of the circle of players on the field. Only cementing the truth that someone was hurt. Coach Finstock sped by us and he tore across the field.
"Move, get out of the way!" he yelled, pushing his players aside. "Move!"
The three of us looked at each other before jogging over to where it was. There was definitely a body on the ground. Oh this can't be good at all. In the middle of the circle, Jackson lay motionless. I gulped as I looked at Scott. Isaac came out of nowhere behind us, looming over our shoulder.
"Jackson? What's happening? Jackson?" a feminine voice screamed. Lydia pushed her way through the crowd and stopped instantly at the sight of her ex.
"Can we get a medic over here?" Finstock screamed.
Mama McCall was already leaning down, pressing her head on Jackson's chest. "He's not breathing." She yanked up his shirt, only to reveal massive claw marks.
"Oh my god, there's blood!" Lydia screeched.
"Oh god," Scott breathed. Turning to me and Isaac, he said, "Look."
We followed his gesture, seeing Jackson's own hands covered in blood. Jackson hadn't been put out here to kill random people tonight. He had been out here to kill himself. This was Gerard's plan all along.
"He did it to himself?" Isaac murmured in confusion.
"None of this makes any sense," I replied. "Why would Gerard use his weapon to take out his weapon?"
No one replied to me as Lydia held Jackson's head while Mrs. McCall tried to revive Jackson. She said he wasn't breathing and it was looking like he wasn't responding to this either. I didn't want to go and say the thing that everyone knew. But it was inevitable.
"I think he's dead," I mumbled, and Scott could only nod at me. I ran a hand down my face as a giant lump formed in my throat. Tears were welling in my eyes. Jackson was dead. He wasn't coming back.
Someone brushed past me and I looked up to see Mr. Stilinski mumbling to himself. He looked like he was in a state of panic. He looked like he was looking for something or someone. Almost instantly I knew he was looking for Stiles. I mean, what else would he look for? Everything he was muttering kept getting louder and louder. But I was only able to catch the last words.
"Where the hell is my son?"
My eyes widened as I scanned the crowd. No Stiles. Stiles was gone. Something clicked in my brain and I began searching for someone a lot older than Stiles. But to my displeasure, Gerard wasn't there either. No Gerard, no Stiles. My heart lurched as I put the pieces together. Stiles wasn't just missing.
Gerard had taken him.
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I know I just posted this like two seconds ago. But the app wasn't registering that I had uploaded. And since a large handful of you read this story on the app, I deleted and reposted. Now the app knows I updated, so yay. God, wattpad irks me sometimes.
God, I severely hate this chapter. I feel like it's extremely choppy and just bad overall. But I seriously want to push through to season three, where I promise things will get better...sort of.
Anyways, who else saw the mid season trailer? Holy god, if they hurt my babies, I'll kill Jeff 'life ruiner' Davis. Me and Emily are going to do it once and for all.
Let me know what you think!