Lost Boy - Liam Dunbar Imagine
Is anybody there who can rescue, somebody like me?
He stands with his arms crossed tightly over his rapidly tightening chest; his eyes slimmed into a narrow glare. He knows he's overreacting, but he can't stop the tingling in his limbs, the tremors beginning to form, and the pressure seeping into his head.
"It's just one test," Liam fights to keep his voice even.
"So it's just one game you'll have to sit out," Coach Finnstock sighs.
He doesn't want to bench one of his best players, but the big red 58% on the top of Liam's latest math test doesn't leave him a choice. In complete honesty, Coach doesn't give a damn what kind of grades his players get, but the school and the parents do.
"My inability to solve a polynomial function doesn't impair my athletic abilities," Liam spits out.
"I agree with that, Dunbar, but I don't make the rules. Lord knows I wish I did. Listen kid, just do better next time and we won't have to worry about this ever again," Coach shrugs before walking off.
Liam stands in the middle of the lacrosse field, unable to move. No one pays attention to the seething boy as they gossip with their friends on their way to class. He tries to regulate his breathing into a steady inhale and exhale, but he can't get control over the rapid bursts puffing out, or the sharp intakes of air that follow shortly after.
"Hey, Liam, are you alright?" Mason approaches his best friend.
Liam shakes his head no, his hands clench into fists.
"What happened?" Mason tilts his head to the side.
"Coach benched me for the game tomorrow," he hisses.
"It's just one game right?" Mason asks.
"Yeah, but that's how it always starts. One game turns in to two. Then two turns in to three. And suddenly you're not playing at all," he growls.
"Wow, calm down. It really is just one game," Mason backs away slightly.
"Don't tell me to calm down," Liam voice lowers. His frame is bent at an awkward angle as he attempts to hide the way his features are contorting into something unnatural.
Before Mason can comment further on his odd behavior, Liam sprints towards the locker rooms without explanation.
"Liam!" Mason calls.
"Don't follow me!" Liam yells back.
Mason shakes his head before beginning his walk to class.
***
The sound of pencils tapping against desk tops echoes throughout the room. A disinterested yawn disrupts the rhythm of tapping momentarily before it picks up again. There's nothing particularly enthralling about history. The past is in the past, so we should leave it there, right? But then again, there is the saying that those who forget are condemned to repeat. Then there's the whole matter of learning from other peoples' mistakes, but what makes her eager to sit through historical lectures, is the fact that history repeats itself.
She wants to pay attention. She wants to be engaged in the discussion of civil rights: then vs.now. The history teacher is comparing the disparity of the black man to the disparity of a gay man, not that she knows this. Were it not for the empty seat directly in front of her, she would be hanging off every word that leaves the teacher's mouth.
"Mason," she whispers to the boy sitting next to her.
"Hmm?" he mumbles back.
She's the kind of girl who only wants to mind her own business, but no one ever seems to let her do that. Scott's new pup should be the last of her concerns, and yet she can't help but keep a watchful eye over the new beta. For a reason she can't explain, she's developed a warm affection for the troubled boy. She's never actually seen him lash out before. The glowing eyes, cuspidated fangs, and jagged claws are a foreign sight to her, but she saw enough of the aftermath at the lake house to make her weary.
