04. Dirty Dancing towards death

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-"ISAAC? ISSAC, C'MON

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-"ISAAC? ISSAC, C'MON. I'M SORRY, okay?"

The curly-haired boy avoided eye contact, slumped over his desk with his head resting in his crossed arms. His glare rested on the back of Mr. Harris's head, but I knew it was meant for me.

"I have a really good reason for ditching, alright? I promise."

He was mad at me-and rightfully so-for suddenly abandoning him at the party without saying anything. I'd wanted to explain things, but he missed all of school on Monday and came back today, sporting a large bruise on his cheekbone.

He finally turned his gaze on me, and I smiled at the progress. He arched one eyebrow, prompting me to continue.

"I met Derek Hale yesterday."

He shot up, his anger forgotten about. "What?"

I nodded excitedly as the promise of a full breakdown of what had happened yesterday. "It started when Scott r-"

"Mr. Stilinksi, Ms. Fairer, if that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while." Mr. Harris suddenly scolded, his voice grating in my head like nails on a chalkboard.

"Great suggestion, Mr. H." I said with fake gratitude.

"Mr. Harris." He corrected with gritted teeth.

"Yes, I know your name." I said, feigning confusion.

He took a deep breath, as if he was debating fighting with me, before he turned his attention back on Scott and Stiles.

I grinned in success and faced Isaac again, who was covering his mouth to keep from laughing. "So, as I was saying-"

And I told him everything. His reactions to my wild statements would have made anyone think we were insane, but by the end of it, he forgave me for abandoning him at Lydia's party.

Apparently, he figured out that parties were not his thing. I knew of his extreme claustrophobia-extreme to the point that it was something I actively accounted for-but I didn't know how it would be in that kind of setting.

Not good if you were wondering.

On the verge of a meltdown, he found a group with Danny and a couple other lacrosse players who were entirely sober, and they'd found a quiet corner of the yard to just chill out and talk.

Moral of the story, I would never leave Isaac again and he would probably not be going to another Lydia Martin party.

Mr. Harris was in the middle of solving another chemical equation on the board when he was interrupted yet again. This time, by Harley O'Neal, president of the BHHS art club, when she sprang out of her seat and ran for the windows.

"Hey, I think they found something!" she yelled, the the rest of the class came flicking at her feet, crowding in front of the glass leading to the bed parking lot.

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