So Cold ᵀᵂ

Chapter two

CHAPTER TWO: shape shifted

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IT WAS A FAMILAR EVENT. Carl swore it happened more often than not. There was a rapid knocking at his door, clearly panicked. The blond-haired boy groaned awake, searching out for his glasses. He quickly slid them on, before time caught up to him. It was still dark outside so, there was no way it was just Isaac knocking on the door to tell him he was late to school.

"Shit!" The boy yelled, immediately running down the stairs, and swinging the front door open.

"I-I didn't know where to go," Isaac rushed out.

"My father-he-he-" Issac stammered over his words, afraid. His head snapped up. "I have to tell him."

"Tell him? Tell who?" Carl asked, confused.

"I'm sorry, Carl, I-i need to go," Isaac began to rush out.

"Wait, Isaac. Isaac!" Carl tried to stop the other from leaving, but, Isaac was out the door before Carl even took a step forward. Isaac was half-way down the street before Carl walked out the door. "What the hell?" He questioned.

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Carl had to go to Isaac's practice, since it seemed like the other was avoiding him. Typically, Carl would give Isaac a ride to school, but, after getting thier early, waiting ten minutes, Isaac has sent him a text that he was at school already.

But, even at the practice, it seemed like Isaac was avoiding him.

He searched for the number fourteen, and would only catch glimpses.

"Isaac!" Carl yelled out, going onto the field to find him.

"Hey!" Coach Finstock yelled out, stopping Carl. "What are you doing here? Get off the field." He then blew his whistle. "Let's go! Line up!"

Carl sent a glare to the teacher/coach. As all the players gathered onto the field, lining up behind each other. Scott McCall had gone in the goal. The coach blew the whistle, causing for the first player  to catch the ball, then run up to the goal. Scott imma ran out of the goal, past the defender, and tackled number eighteen.

Carl furrows his eyebrows, confused. He never played lacrosse, or any other sport, but he had came to enough practices, and games (for Isaac) to know that the goalie definitely wasn't supposed to do that. Plus, it was plain out obvious.

Scott then lifted the player, staying close momentarily.

"McCall!" Finstock yelled, despite Scott being right in front of him. "Usually the goalie stayed somewhere within the vicinity of the actual goal."

"Yes, Coach," Scott ran back to the goal.

"Let's try it again," Coach Calle spoke, blowing the whistle

Number eight was next, Carl was sure his name was Max, or Matt. Something with a Ma in the beginning.  Coach Finstock threw the ball, number eight catching it before he ran forward.

Scott ran out of the goal. Shouldering the other player, knocking him down. Max (Matt?) flipped over Scott's shoulder, landing hard in his back. Scott immediately turns around, above his face. He jerked his head for a few seconds. Almost as if he was smelling the fallen player.

Carl was never more confused in his entire life, than he was right now.

"McCall! The position's goalie.  Not goal abandoner." Finstock tells him.

"Sorry, Coach..." Scott jogged back to the goal.

Finstock blew the whistle. "Let's go!"

Of course, Scott ran out of the goal. The defender moved, instead placing husband in his hip, holding his stick in one hand, he watched Scott run out of the goal and past him.

Scott knocked down player twenty-eight, then leaning over him.

"Stilinski! What the hell is wrong with your friend?" Coach asked, annoyed.

Carl didn't hear the buzz-cut boy's reply. Next was Danny, who Scott grabbed around the shoulders, twisting them both in the air and dropping him to the ground. He stayed above him, smelling deeply.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Carl questioning in confusion.

"McCall!" Finstock snapped again. "You come out of that goal one more time, and you'll be doing suicide runs 'til you die! It'll be the first-ever suicide run that actually ends in a suicide! Got it?"

"Yes, Coach." Scott nodded.

"Yeah!"

"Uh, Coach, my shoulder's hurting... I'm gonna-I'm gonna sit this one out..." Jackson spoke.

Isaac was next. The coach blew this whistle, throwing the lacrosse ball, isaac caught it. Then ran forward. Scott left the goal, the two running at each other and momentarily spinning in the air. Both landed in front of each other, kneeling.
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The cops had arrived, taking Issac. Carl had tried to get information, but, the cops said that they would be questioning him later

"Did you know that Isaac's father was hitting him?" Noah Stilinski questioned.

Carl looked down at his hands, ashamed. "He said not to tell anyone." He admitted. "And...I thought about it. And you know, I was saving up money. So was he. He and I were gonna find a cheap place to move into once we were eighteen."

Noah sighed.
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When Carl had gone down to the police station, he had tried to visit Isaac, but, none of the deputies about allow him to do so.
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