The Calling of Whitechapel | MBSAV Fanfiction

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱

Six hours later, the sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the backfield of the school. The trees surrounding the area had transformed into beautiful hues of red and orange, their fallen leaves scattered across the field. The air had turned crisp and gentle, and the sweet songs of birds echoed softly through the nearby forest. In the centre of the field, a group had gathered, all the boys dressed in red and purple attire, their lacrosse sticks held firmly in hand. The coach, barked instructions, with flecks of saliva flying from his mouth in his passionate coaching.

"You better get in there, Benny!" I encourage.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Wish me luck," he says jogging off to the group.

"Chookas! I hope he makes the team," I sigh.

"Well, you should worry more about Stiles. The agreement was if you make the team you get your reward, regardless if the other one does or doesn't."

Ethan and I continued to make our way across the grass, eventually settling on the bleachers next to Allison. I remove my bag from my shoulder placing it at my feet, as Ethan takes out his phone to take pictures. I glance at Allison, her beautiful rosy cheeks matching the autumn leaves.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"So do you know anyone playing?" She asks.

"Uh... Do you see that one to the left, the one getting yelled at? Yeah, that's Benny." Due to Benny's late arrival, the coach, Mr. Finstock made him run laps around the field but not before making his tardiness an example of what is not expected of the team. I spot Stiles, who's looking pleased with Benny's punishment, while Scott catches my eye, a smile swiping across his lips. He waves at us, Ethan rolling his eyes at his confidence. I instinctively wave back, noticing Allison do the same.

"Oh, I didn't know you knew McCall," she realises.

"No, no. Scott and I just met this morning and he invited us."

"First name basis, I see," she says, the corner of her lip raising. "So do you like..."

"Oh, god no!" I fluster, turning red. "It was just, um, this morning his friend, Stiles. That one with the black stick. Yeah, him. He hit me with his car..." Her face turns to shock.

"Oh, my! I thought, never mind."

"So how do you know, Sco–McCall?" I continue the conversation.

"Well, during my first class on Tuesday, I was scrambling to find a pencil for notes and then he just turned to me without saying anything and handed me one. It was like he read my mind. I talked with my dad earlier and a bunch of my things had been left in America, including pencils apparently. He said he's to busy to run to the store an get me some HBs. Ugh!"

"And then McCall asked you after that class?"

"No actually. Wednesday I was looking for the cafeteria, again, and then I turned a corner and he was there to guide me. It was so weird. He asked me to come before he left. Are all Canadians mind readers?"

"Mate, I'm thinking the same thing. They're all wack," I chuckled, turning my attention back to the field where they'd started some simple passing drills.

The coach was keen on gauging the skill levels of the players, and it was apparent that everyone was determined to make an impression. Benny, having now joined the group, seemed to be taking his sweet pleasure in shoving Stiles around whenever he had the chance.

The players were separated into four groups, Stiles and Benny managing to end up together. As the coach called out names and blew the whistle, a single lacrosse ball was placed at the centre of the field. The players in each group eagerly anticipated their chance to snatch it up. They were supposed to pick up and bring balls toward another team, the least amount of balls wins. Benny and Stiles, however, kept tripping each other, causing balls to fly everywhere.