tw- description of a panic attack, mention/descriptions of tuberculosis
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𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒕 𝑴𝒄𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒔. During the course of the previous night, he had stupidly turned up at Derek Hale's house in hopes of answers. However, it seemingly turned into a fight which the older werewolf won. But Scott did manage to learn a few things that didn't make his plan a total disaster.
Derek Hale was not the one who bit him, he wasn't an alpha.
That's what dumb and dumber were discussing during their history class in which, conveniently, they were sat close together. The buzzcut boy pelted his friend with questions from the seat behind. Even he didn't believe there was any redeeming intellectual level in Scott. Stiles impatiently tapped on Scott's shoulder to get his attention.
"If Derek isn't the alpha and if he didn't bite you, then who did?" The hyperactive boy questioned. Scott sighed, as if he had any idea. It's not like he could ask Derek any of these questions. The last time he went to him in search of answers he got his ass beat.
"I don't know." Scott shrugged. His reply only made Stiles more irritated. He sat back in his seat a bit before another question popped into his head and he leaned forward again.
"Did the alpha kill the bus driver?"
Scott replied with another tired I don't know, and it wasn't long before a millionth question was asked of him.
"Does Allison's dad know about-"
"I don't know!" Scott turned around and yelled at his friend. The loud disturbance caused the rest of the class to plant their eyes on him.
"Why do you never ask Lizzie these questions?" He continued in more of a hushed manner.
"Well one, because she's not a werewolf," Stiles glanced around the room until his brown eyes landed on Lizzie's empty seat on the other side of the classroom. "And two, she's not- where the hell is she?"
Scott followed Stiles' gaze to the empty seat and saw that indeed their friend wasn't there. However, they didn't have to miss her for long as the classroom door slowly creaked open. In came the petite brunette. Her hair was tied up in a pony tail a little messily and she wore a cream and brown stripped jumper and a pair of dark grey baggy jeans. Her face was glossed with her usual make up and her neck cluttered with necklaces.
"Miss Brown, what time do you call this?" The teacher glanced at her watch and scolded the late girl. Lizzie ducked her head down and stared at her feet, her face wasn't plastered with her usual grin and her eyes weren't as sparkly. They were dull and anxious; her lips pressed in a thin line. Something was definitely up.
