Little side note, I was looking for a picture of a fire extinguisher and incidentally found the exact same one as the one Stiles uses in the scene.
Maya's POV
I was talking with a classmate after school. I don't usually like who I'm sitting next to, but Isaac's alright so I didn't mind. We sit next to each other in physics and we share a few other classes as well.
We said our goodbyes and parted ways as he headed to the boys locker room. Apparently he was also on the lacrosse team.
I was going to get some stuff out of my bag and slowed down as I saw Scott, wearing his gear, talking to Allison.
He must've gotten ready quickly to catch her before she left. I see Allison smile and nod.
And as they're about to kiss, someone honks their horn, causing them to separate. The driver gets out and goes around the car.
"That's my dad. I'd better go," she said and walked up to the red car.
Scott was walking back towards the school doors with a smile plastered on his face when he suddenly stopped. He looks up and turns around as if realising something.
Allison's dad closed her door, looked up at Scott and smiled at him. Scott raised his hand and waved hesitantly.
I walked up to him and put my hand on his shoulder. There was shock written all over his face. "What is it?" I asked curiously.
"He's one of them," he said plainly, staring straight ahead. Not even glancing back at me.
"One of whom? What are you talking about? Is he a werewolf too?" I asked as he stayed silent. My smile faltered as concern rose up inside of me.
"No. One of the hunters."
Third person POV
Scott came into the locker room looking dazed. Everyone was going to the field but Scott was removing his gear. He dropped everything to the ground and leaned against his locker with a conflicted look on his face.
Stiles was going to leave, when he noticed his friend staring in front of him as if he were lost. "Did you apologise to Allison?" he asked Scott hesitantly.
"Yeah," he stated plainly.
"So is she giving you a second chance or...?" Stiles asked concerned.
"Yeah," Scott said, still looking blankly in front of him.
"Yeah!" Stiles exclaimed, his eyebrows raised. "Alright, so everything's good!" he said and turned to leave.
"No," Scott said with desperation in his voice, stopping Stiles.
"No?" Stiles' smile faded.
"Remember, the hunters?" Scott's voice faltered. "Her dad's one of 'em." Stiles took a second to take it in.
"Her dad?" he questioned, unsure if he'd heard it correctly.
"Shot me..." Scott continued, still staring in front of him.
"Allison's father?" Stiles asked again.
"...with a crossbow," his eyes widened.
Stiles still couldn't comprehend it. "Allison's father...?" he asked incessantly but was cut off by Scott.
"Yes, her father!" Scott yelled before breaking down. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God"
Stiles didn't hesitate to rush to his friend. "No, Scott, come on, snap back. You okay?" he slapped him on the cheek lightly to get his attention. "Hey, alright. He didn't recognise you, right?" he asked, shrugging hopefully.
"No, no, no. I don't think so," he said looking down at the ground.
"Does she know about him?" Stiles asked again.
Scott's eyes widened as realisation kicked in. "Oh, yeah, I don't know. What if she does?" he sounded more desperate. Coach whistled for the practice to start. "This is gonna' kill me man, I can't..." Scott continued.
"Okay, just focus on lacrosse, okay? Here, Scott, take this," Stiles hands him his gear. "Take this and focus on lacrosse for now, okay? That's all you gotta' do, yeah? Here, we, go," he said, hitting his arm a couple times before rushing to the field, almost falling in the process.
"Lacrosse," Scott muttered under his breath as he put his gear back on.
Maya's POV
When I sat down, I couldn't help feeling like I was being watched. I shrugged it off and tried to find Stiles and Scott on the field.
I came to practice late and saw Jackson with a long stick, standing in the middle of the field. The rest of the team was lined up in front of him. I guess they're going one-on-one today.
Scott was spaced out as Coach called his name. Scott jogged his way over towards the goal, but Jackson threw him to the ground.
Scott looked up from the ground and shot daggers at him.
"Hey, McCall," Coach said, making his way over to him.
Jackson said something to Scott which made him jump up determined. He stood up and leaned forward, his hands on his knees.
"My grandmother can move faster than that," he chuckled, "and she's dead!"
He leaned down to his level as he continued. "You think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my dead grandmother?"
Even through the helmet, I could see that Jackson was enjoying this.
"Yes, coach," Scott said, looking away. I looked at Stiles and he had the same worried look on his face. This could go very wrong.
"McCall's gonna' do it again! McCall's gonna' do it again!" Coach yelled. Scott stood up and jogged to the front of the line. He slowly turned and focused on Jackson.
"Let's go!" Coach yelled. Scott took off towards Jackson. They ran at each other.
Scott pushes Jackson with his shoulder. Jackson falls to the ground, hard. Scott kept going before he fell to his knees holding his head in anguish.
I launch myself off the bench and run over to Scott.
Everyone on the field stood there watching, unsure of what to do. When Coach started approaching Jackson, the rest followed. Stiles veered off to Scott.
He got to him right after I did. "Scott? Scott, you okay?" Stiles asks, his hands gripping his shoulders.
I look over to the rest of the team as they stood 'round Jackson, who was rolling on the ground cradling his shoulder.
"I can't control it, Stiles. It's happening," he answers, his eyes cast down to the ground.
"What? Right here? Now?" Stiles whisper-shouted anxious and glanced back at the team.
"Alright. Come on. Get up. Go," I groan as Stiles and I help Scott up. We scurry off the field to the boys locker room, our backs towards the team. As we did so, the feeling of being watched grew stronger.
We stumbled into the school without running into anyone.
"Come on, here we go," Stiles said as we finally reached the door to the locker room. Scott throws his gloves on the ground and leans against a wall, out of breath.
"There. Sit. You okay? Scott, you okay?" I put my hand on his shoulder.
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Scott roared at us, making me fall back to the ground. His eyes glowing a golden yellow.
I quickly scrambled away. Stiles pulled me up and we stood behind some lockers looking at him.
Scott ran up and jumped on top of the lockers we stood at, growling.
We jumped back against the lockers opposite him. Stiles got to his feet and ran away, dragging me along behind him.
Scott stalked across the locker and steadily went over to the concrete ceiling beam.
We looked up attentively before running to some other lockers closer to the door. Scott roared and when we looked up he was right above us.
He looked down at us as though we were prey.
I jumped over the bench and ran for the door. When I reached there I realised Stiles was running behind.
Stiles had clumsily crawled along the bench. He kept his eyes on Scott as he stumbled backwards into a locker. Cautiously he made his way along the wall, his back hit the fire extinguisher.
I was going to help him but as soon as I came closer, Scott jumped from the beam to a locker nearby.
Stiles looked back at me with worry, then looked at the extinguisher. Scott roared at him as Stiles struggled with the fire extinguisher, still wearing his gloves.
Scott jumped towards Stiles and he aimed it at him.
Scott got disoriented and started clawing around himself in an attempt to escape the thick cloud of CO2.
Stiles kept at it 'till he made his way to the doorway. He stood with his back against the wall, catching his breath and holding the extinguisher to his chest. He shot me a reassuring look.
"Stiles?" we hear my brother's weak voice say from inside.
We peak around the corner to see him sitting on the bench, sweating heavily.
"What happened?" he asked, also out of breath.
Stiles drops the extinguisher. It sounded as the metal hit the concrete.
He takes off his glove and throws it on the ground as he goes back into the locker room. "You tried to kill us," he answers.
I stay at the door and cross my arms.
"It's like I told you before," Stiles kneeled down before him. "It's the anger, it's your pulse rising. It's a trigger."
"But that's lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed," Scott said disheartened.
"Well, it's gonna' be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field." A shiver went up my spine as he said 'kill'. "You can't play Saturday. You're gonna' have to get out of the game."
"But I'm first line."
Stiles sighs. "Not anymore"
—
I finished the little homework I had for the next two days and sat back in my chair. I wasn't tired yet so I decided to sketch a little to pass the time.
Mom had another late shift so she wouldn't be back 'till long past midnight.
I get my sketchbook out of my bag and lay it open on my desk.
I closed my eyes and let the music I had playing in the background sink in. As my pencil hits the paper, keeping my eyes closed, I start to move it across the blank page.
Starting slow, then going faster and faster. I put so much pressure on the pencil I was afraid I'd snap it in half. It was as though my hand had a mind of its own.
'Till I just... stopped.
I opened one eye and peaked at the monstrosity I must've created.
But instead I see a drawing of a man that I faintly recognize. He glares back at me.
I stare at it in confusion when suddenly I feel something coarse through my hand. It shook uncontrollably, making me drop my pencil. It's like a sizzling just below the surface.
Starting at my fingertips and crawling its way up my arm, leaving fire in its wake.
I want to call out for Scott but nothing comes out.
Wide eyed, I look at my hand, unable to look away. My skin was turning red and my arm was exuding heat. My hand shook heavier, more uncontrollable and didn't look like it was going to stop.
As I go to hold it stil with my other hand, I pull back. I turn my hand over and it looks as though I'd burned myself.
Panicking, I try to call out for Scott again, with the same result.
Careful not to use my hands, I stand up from my chair and go to Scott's bedroom. I have a bad feeling about this. It only got worse once I stood in the hall.
"They didn't see anything I swear..." Scott's labored voice sounds from inside. I go to knock on the door, but the pain stops me as I try to make a fist.
"And they won't..." I hear a man say angrily. My fear vanishes into thin air. I reach for the door handle, ignoring the sharp sting of my palm. I tried to push the door open but something stood in front of it.
"Because if you even try to play in that game on Saturday,..." I slam into the door with my shoulder 'till it aches. Earning nothing from it but a crack into the room. "I'm gonna' kill you myself," he says through gritted teeth.
As the words reach my ears, I hit the door and push through the pain. The door flies open and I fall through.
I glance around to see no one else in the room aside from Scott. He was standing against the wall, leaning on his knees out of breath.
Then my eyes land on the window. It was open. I stick my head out, just in time to see a black Camaro drive off.
The cool breeze grazes against my burn making it tingle. I look back, down at my hands. The once trembling hand was now stil and back to its regular color. The other was red and stung with every touch.
I go to Scott's bathroom and let cold water run over the palm of my hand. Then, like magic, the newly formed blisters disappeared before my eyes. The remnants washed off with ease and left my hand the same way it had been. As if nothing had happened.
My eyes glued to my hands, my thumb caressing across my palm, I entered Scott's bedroom again. I turn to Scott against the wall. He's leaning forward, hands on his knees, eyes on the window.
"I think we've got a problem," he says absentminded.
"Tell me about it," I whisper under my breath. My thumb pressing into my palm as I close my fingers around it.
~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~
Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it.
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Word count: 2295
Yours truly, DOBGirl99