This Changes Everything {Book 1-S1}

Nerui. Sollicitudo. Culpa. {S1- Epi 11- Pt 3}

{Latin ^ Nerves. Worry. Guilt. } Tuesday February 15th 2011 {Day Day 38}

{Words: 4244}

Now at The Highschool - Boy's Lockerroom

The shrill ring of the bell reverberated through the locker room, signaling the conclusion of the vigorous gym class. Amidst the chaotic flurry of students hastily changing out of their sweat-soaked athletic attire, Scott found himself in a frantic pursuit, determined to catch up with Coach and address a matter of utmost importance.

Breathless and flushed, Scott finally reached the imposing figure of Coach, his voice laden with urgency and frustration.

"What do you mean I can't attend the formal?" Scott questioned, his words tinged with a mix of disbelief and defiance.

Coach's gruff response echoed in the cramped space, his tone hardened by the weight of authority. "McCall, you're failing not only my class but two others as well. The school administration has made it clear that you should be cut from the team. But I told them I'd sooner sacrifice my own manhood than lose my star player."

Scott's determination burned brightly in his eyes, his voice laced with unwavering resolve. "So the compromise is that I'm barred from the dance? Then I'll quit the team."

Coach's exasperation was palpable as he retorted, "No, you don't. And mark my words, if you have the audacity to set foot at that dance, I'll personally extract you, tooth and nail."

The slamming of Coach's office door punctuated the tension in the air, leaving Scott standing there, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. The weight of his academic struggles and his ardent desire to attend the formal tugged at his heart, as uncertainty shrouded his path forward. 

Moment's later at another locker - In The Lockerroom

An air of incredulity hung over Jackson as he turned towards Scott and Stiles, their voices hushed in an attempt to keep their conversation private from prying ears.

"You want me to take her to the formal?" Jackson's tone betrayed a mixture of disbelief and annoyance, his brows furrowing in disbelief.

Scott's response carried a hint of frustration, his words punctuated with a huff of exasperation. "I don't want you to. I need you to."

A bitter retort escaped Jackson's lips, laced with defiance and a tinge of hostility. "Screw you," he spat, directing his words at Scott. And then, shifting his attention to Stiles, he added, "Screw you too."

A flash of anger crossed Jackson's face as he concluded his biting remark, a hint of mockery woven into his words. "In fact, screw each other," he sneered, aiming his barbed comment at both Morwen and Stiles.

Morwen's scowl deepened, their frustration evident in their voice as they interjected, "He saved your life, prick! If it wasn't for us—"

Jackson, cutting them off, scoffed dismissively, "He left me for dead."

Stiles, trying to interject, let out an exasperated huff, attempting to contribute to the conversation. However, his words were cut short as the conversation continued to escalate.

Scott, shaking his head in denial toward Stiles, spoke up with a mix of determination and desperation, "I got shot for you."

Jackson, unconvinced, challenged Scott, his skepticism evident in his voice, "Oh yeah? Show me the bullet wound."