Sirens in Beacon Hills

Chapter Seven

The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind of activity. I split my time between hanging out with Allison and trying to make a dent in the mountain of boxes at my house. Finding my bed frame amid the chaos felt like a minor miracle, but despite my best efforts, Monday arrived far too quickly, leaving me with a frustrating number of boxes still to unpack.

The school day flew by in a blur, much like the weekend had. By the time the final bell rang, I was ready to hop on my bike and head home. As I pedaled toward the school's exit, I spotted Allison standing outside, her expression mirroring the same unhappiness she had worn all weekend. Concerned, I quickened my pace to reach her.

"Allison, hey," I called as I approached. She glanced up, her eyes troubled.

"Hey," she replied softly, her voice lacking its usual cheer.

Before I could ask what was wrong, I noticed Scott making his way toward us. His face was etched with worry, and he moved with purpose, his eyes flicking between Allison and me. The tension in the air was palpable as he joined our small group.

"So, what happened? You left us stranded at the party," I say, my voice edged with irritation as I cross my arms over my chest. Scott looks flustered, his eyes shifting nervously between Allison and me.

"Yeah, I know, I know. I'm really sorry, I am," he stammers, clearly uncomfortable. "But you're going to have to trust that I had a really good reason." His eyes are fixed more on Allison as he speaks, and she mirrors my posture, arms crossed tightly in front of her.

"Did you get sick?" she asks, her tone softening as she uncrosses her arms, worry etching her features. Her concern for Scott is palpable, and it makes me feel a pang of guilt for being so harsh.

Scott opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything, I notice Stiles lingering a short distance away, his usual nervous energy evident in his fidgeting. "I'll catch up with you guys later," I say quickly, excusing myself and making my way towards him.

"Hey!" I greet him as I approach. Stiles looks up, attempting to muster a smile but failing to hide his anxious demeanor.

"Hey," he replies, glancing over my shoulder at Scott and Allison. "Everything okay?"

"I should be asking you that," I counter, studying his expression. "What's going on with Scott? He's acting really strange."

Stiles shifts uncomfortably, glancing around as if to make sure no one is eavesdropping. "It's complicated," he says finally. "But trust me, he had a good reason for what he did."

I narrow my eyes, not entirely convinced. "Stiles, if something's wrong, you need to tell me. We're all worried about him." Even though I've only been here a week or so, these people have become good friends. And ever since I arrived, Scott has been on edge; my siren half can feel it. And she has this urge to try to calm him down.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know, and I want to, but it's not my place. Just keep an eye on him, okay? And be careful."

"Careful?" I echo, my concern growing. "What do you mean by that?"

Stiles opens his mouth to respond but then closes it, looking torn. "Just promise me you'll look out for him. And yourself," he finally says.

I nodded, sensing the seriousness in his tone. "Okay, I promise. But if things get worse, you have to let us know."

"Deal," he says, a bit of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Thanks."

As we parted ways, I cast one last glance back at Scott and Allison, who were deep in conversation. Something was definitely off, and I was determined to find out what it was.

~~~

The next week flies by in a blur, and before I know it, it's Friday. Tomorrow is our first lacrosse game of the season. Allison told me she's coming to the game, and her dad has offered to pick me up on their way, which is a relief.

After school, I decide to watch the last practice from the bleachers. The team looks sharp, and there's an electric anticipation in the air. Suddenly, I see Scott collapse on the field. My heart leaps into my throat, and I jump up, racing down the bleachers. Scott's collapse has drawn Stiles' attention too, and together they rush into the school, heading for the locker room.

I follow close behind, my mind racing with worry. As I reach the door, I glance around to ensure no one is watching before slipping inside. The hallway is deserted, and I move quickly, my footsteps echoing in the quiet.

Entering the locker room, I'm hit with an unexpected sight: Scott is on the ground, convulsing, his features contorted in pain. But then, before my very eyes, his face begins to change. His teeth elongate into sharp fangs, and a guttural growl escapes his throat. In an instant, he lunges at Stiles, who barely manages to dodge.

I scream, the sound piercing through the chaos and causing Stiles to whip around, eyes wide with alarm. He rushes toward me, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the locker room with a surprising amount of strength.

"Lillie! What the hell are you doing here?" He demands, slamming the door shut behind us.

"I wanted to make sure you both were okay, and clearly you aren't!" I reply, my voice frantic. "What the heck is happening to him?"

The door shakes as Scott bangs against it from the other side, his growls echoing through the corridor. Stiles' eyes dart around in panic, and then he spots a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. Without hesitation, he grabs it, yanks the pin out, and bursts back into the locker room.

I follow cautiously, my heart pounding. Inside, Scott is still in his monstrous form, snarling and thrashing. Stiles aims the fire extinguisher at him and squeezes the handle, releasing a thick cloud of white foam. Scott is enveloped in the mist, his growls gradually turning into coughs. The foam coats him, and he begins to calm down, his features slowly returning to normal.

Scott collapses to the floor, gasping for breath. Stiles drops the extinguisher and rushes to his side, while I stand frozen in the doorway, trying to process what I just witnessed.

"Stiles, what happened?" Scott asks, still breathing heavily, as he looks up at us from the floor. Stiles crouches beside him, and I stand a few steps behind, trying to steady my racing heart.

"You tried to kill me. It's like I told you before. It's the anger. It's your pulse that's rising. It's a trigger," Stiles says quickly, his voice edged with urgency as he helps Scott stand. Scott glances at me, his eyes filled with worry. I try to smile, but my fear makes it falter.

"But that's lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed," Scott replies, throwing his hands into the air in frustration. Stiles pats his shoulder lightly, trying to calm him down.

"Well, it's going to be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field. You can't play on Saturday. You're going to have to get out of the game," Stiles says firmly.

"I'm first line," Scott breathes out, his frustration evident in his tense stance. He looks torn, the conflict clear on his face.

"Not anymore," Stiles replies, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Stiles turns to me, his expression a mix of relief and exasperation. "Lillie, you shouldn't have been here."

"I—I was worried," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "What is happening to him?"

Scott looks up at me, his eyes tired but human again. "It's a long story."

Stiles sighs, sitting down beside Scott, his shoulders slumping as the adrenaline fades. "It's complicated, Lillie. But we're handling it. You need to trust us."

I throw my hands out towards Scott. "I just saw him grow fangs and claws."

Scott gives me a cautious look before replying, "I'm a werewolf, apparently."

The words hang in the air, heavy and surreal. I take a deep breath, trying to process what I've just heard. "A werewolf?"

"Yeah," Scott confirms, his voice low. "It's been happening for a few weeks now. I didn't want to tell anyone."

I nod my head, taking a few steps closer to him. "This is serious. We need to figure out how to control it."