Shifted

26 - Pre-game Gambling

AN: Hi! Yes I'm back, hope you're all still with me! To make up for my absence, I have finally created that twitter account I talked about ages ago, the link is on my profile. I also attached a link to an old writing relay exercise I did with my good friend . Hope you guys like it and bonus points for anyone who can guess which scenes were my contribution.

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About an hour before the game was set to start, Coach Finstock called in the entire team to the field for some last minute warm-up/team meeting. They'd just go through some basic warm-up drills, nothing too strenuous since he didn't want to risk someone screwing up and ending up like Stilinski. The only one exempt from the warm-up was Stilinski who, according to the Sheriff, was sleeping off some pain killers. Still wanting to get Stilinski to watch the game tonight, Coach let him go with a promise to be at the field come game time.

The team all lined up in front of the Coach. Some stretching, jumping, and just generally psyching themselves out for the game. None of them may be as obsessed with lacrosse as Coach, but absolutely none of them wanted to lose this game. The first game of the season.

"Alright." He said, voice booming across the field. "Jackson's shoulder is busted and Stilinski is out for the game. Is there anyone else who, within the last few hours managed to somehow break their neck? Stub their toe?"

No one said a word, but Coach didn't let up on the intensity of his glare. He looked each one in the eye, whoever blinked was lying. When he got to Greenberg, the boy loudly proclaimed he was fit, healthy, and ready to play some lacrosse, Coach lost his composure a bit. Of all the boys who could have sat out the game...

Coach moved ahead and for some reason, Scott kept avoiding his eyes. Coach, being Coach, wouldn't let that go and deliberately walked up to Scott's face and followed his head every time he tried to look away.

"McCall!" He yelled and the boy in question finally met his gaze, "Tell me you're not broken, bruised or cut in any way."

Scott winced and looked away again.

"Oh for... what did you do?"

"It was an accident, Coach."

Coach looked apoplectic, if it weren't for the cold frigid air, he might have actually gone red as a beet. "Seriously? Suicide runs for you til the end of time. Now, show me."

While Scott lifted his shirt, Coach signaled for the medic to come over. Considering the boy was about to show his abdomen, Coach guessed that there was a bruise there from one teenage shenanigans or other.

Except, when Scott lifted his shirt, he couldn't see anything wrong. No bruising or cuts, not even some minor redness.

"Well?"

Scott, stunned, started running his hands across his abdomen.

"McCall, if this is just an excuse for you to fondle yourself, you go ahead back to the locker room."

"No! No, I..." Scott stammered, "I guess I wasn't hit as hard as I thought?"

Dismissing the boy, now that he knew he wasn't injured or dying, he carried on inspecting the rest of the team. Thankfully, everyone else was fine so he sent them all loose on the field to work on their passes and footwork.

As he watched the team on the field, Coach thought they still looked good despite everything. Sure, Jackson's throws weren't as fast or powerful as they usually were, and the team seemed to be playing extra carefully, but Jackson's aim was still perfect, Danny was still the best goalie in the state, and thanks to McCall stepping up, he wouldn't even have to consider putting Greenberg on the field.