34.

606 11 0
                                    

We rush inside a classroom, and I shut the door behind us. Scott places a chair underneath it, and I scoff. I hear his footsteps outside the door, and I clasp my hand over my mouth. It walks past the door, and we sigh in relief.  "Jackson, how many people can you fit in your car?" Scott questions.

"Five, if someone squeezes on someone's lap," Jackson responds.

"Five? I barely fit in the back," Allison scoffs.

"It doesn't matter. There's no getting out without drawing attention," I shake my head.

"What about this?" Scott starts as he rushes over to a door. Stiles and I walk over to him. "This leads to the roof. We could go down the fire escape to the parking lot in, like, seconds."

"That's a deadbolt," Stiles states.

Scott groans when he realizes something. "The janitor has a key."

"You mean his body has it," I correct.

"I can get it. I can find him by scent, by blood," Scott says.

"Well, gee, that sounds like an incredibly terrible idea," Stiles comments. "What else you got?"

"I'm getting the key," Scott insists. He walks past us and over to the door.

"I hate to admit it, but... this is the only plan we got," I sigh.

"Are you serious?" Allison asks him.

"Well, it's the best plan. Someone has to get the key if we want to get out of here," Scott says.

"You can't go out there unarmed," Allison points out.

Scott grabs the pointer-finger from beside the door, and I glare at him. "Well, it's better than nothing," Scott defends.

"There's gotta be something else," Stiles says.

"There is," Lydia nods before pointing at the cabinet beside us.

"What are we gonna do? Throw acid on him?" Stiles asks.

"No. Like a fire bomb. In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov-cocktail," Lydia states.

"Self-igniting...," Stiles starts.

"Molotov cocktail," Lydia finishes. We stare at her. "What? I read it somewhere."

"We don't have a key for that either," Stiles sighs.

I roll my eyes before hitting the glass with my elbow. "We don't need a key."

~ ~ ~

Lydia hands Scott the beaker when Allison speaks. "No. No, this is insane, you can't do this. You cannot go out there."

"We can't just sit here waiting for Stiles' dad to check his messages," Scott sighs.

"You could die. Don't you get that? He's killed three people," Allison points out as tears roll down her cheeks.

"And we're next," Scott nods. She scoffs. "Somebody has to do something."

He walks around the table, and she approaches him. "Scott, just stop," Allison starts. "Do you remember... Do you remember when you told me you knew whether or not I was lying? That I had a tell. So do you," she continues. "You're a horrible liar. And you've been lying all night. Just... Just please... Please don't go. Please don't leave us. Please."

He's quiet for a while. "Lock it behind me." He starts to walk away from her when he pulls him back and kisses him.

They break apart before he walks toward the door, and I follow him. "Look, I'm still incredibly pissed at you... but that doesn't mean I hate you. Be careful, okay?"

"Okay."

"You Don't Know Me" || Derek HaleWhere stories live. Discover now