The Wild Side | Stiles Stilinski | One

17 - Bite The (Silver) Bullet

After a Friday that had been the literal definition of insane, I was happy to have a quiet weekend.

I'd spent the rest of the night up with Lydia, only staying up long enough to make sure our mothers got home okay and listen to their story of the mountain lion attack. Our parents had walked out of the school to complete chaos; people were running and screaming in the parking lot, cars flying by as people tried to escape. No one could figure out what was causing the panic until two gunshots went off. Apparently, Mr. Argent had taken down the mountain lion with his own personal handgun. Mom had been shaken, but relieved that everything was over now, and I pretended to feel the same.

That was the first night I stayed up late reading about werewolves.

On Saturday, I didn't wake up until noon. When I did, it was to several missed messages from Stiles, and none from Scott. I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign. On the one hand, he might've been avoiding me because he didn't want to answer any questions about Derek. On the other, he might've been avoiding me because I'd found out about...his condition. It was a pretty important distinction, which is why I called Stiles as soon as I was awake and coherent.

"How's your dad?" was the very first question I asked.

"He's gonna be fine. The car hit him close range, and he was just backing out, so it's not like he was speeding. Still, it knocked him to the ground pretty good. Dad hurt his back and he's staying at home and in bed all weekend."

"Now, did the doctors tell him he was bedridden, or was that you?"

"One weekend off won't kill him," Stiles said defensively. "I just don't want him to get any worse."

"I know. Have you spoken to Scott?"

"Ha, no. And I don't plan to."

"Stiles..."

"No! Don't 'Stiles' me! You know, you were right yesterday! Scott was screwing around with Allison instead of dealing with his shit, and my dad got hurt because of it!"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Yeah," he sighed bitterly. "Yeah, I know. Doesn't mean I can't be mad at him."

"I think maybe—"

"How are you?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject. "Any pain? Anxiety attacks? Regret-inducing nightmares?"

"I'm actually kinda...fine. No nightmares. Of course, I was up late reading, so I probably just passed out after that."

"You're handling this a lot better than I expected you to. Like, a lot better."

"Eh, Ms. Morrell says I'm well-adjusted," I said with a shrug, "but I'd hold off on any judgment calls. I'm still taking all of this hypothetically. Right now, all I've seen is an escaped zoo animal and a guy with weird eyes, which very well could have been contacts."

"Patience, my young padawan. Soon you will come to see things the way I do."

I snorted. "Nerd."

After that, I'd gone out shopping with Mom. We'd gone to the mall and the bookstore, a small reward for the glowing reviews she'd gotten from my teachers, and then she'd taken me to the hospital so someone could check on my arm. My face was healing about as quickly as could be expected, but my arm was in pretty good condition, all things considered. It would take weeks for the bruises to heal completely, but I would be able to take the sling off in a few days, provided I didn't do anything to injure myself further. I didn't have any plans to exert myself, but with a murdering monster on the loose, you could never know for sure.