My Teen Enemies {4}

Chapter 11

This chapter is dedicated for all of the men and women who passed away on September 11, 2001.

You are remembered.

Play = 🎶🎶.

Chapter 11

"Please empty your pockets into the container." The man droned out.

"We're here to see..." We tried.

"Please empty your pockets into the container." He interrupted.

Everyone emptied their pockets, looking back to me.

I reached into my jean jacket, placing a pen and some paper clips into the plastic box, looking away.

"Please empty everything from your pockets into the container." He repeated.

Stiles nudged me, and I rolled my eyes, placing a half eaten twix bar into the box.

Another nudge.

I tossed my phone into the bucket, and crossed my arms defiantly.

The creepy man rose an eyebrow, and I groaned, finally tossing my bike keys into the box.

I still don't know why I decided to drive my bike today when I'm wearing a dress.

So many complications today over that decision.

The man looked to Kira, "Please remove your belt and place it into the container."

"I kind of need the belt. I mean, it's crucial to the outfit." She blurted.

Crucial to the outfit? Well, that's by far one of the shittiest excuses I've heard.

He rolled his eyes, "Please remove your belt which patients will attempt to take from you and use to strangle either themselves of others."

"Right. Got it." Kira said, taking her belt off, and placing it into the container.

The man zeroed in on Lydia, making me tense, shifting myself in front of her, "You sure know how to make things creepier." I told him, "You should contact someone about that staring problem... It's rude." I snapped.

His eyes flashed to me, and Stiles' grip on my hand tensed at the man's piercing glance. He pulled the container away from us as a security guard slammed open a door, leading us down the stairs.

"I'll remind you that I'm only doing this as a favor to Deaton. And I'm doing it against my better judgment." He said.

I scoffed under my breath, "If you had 'better judgment' you would have picked a different job." I said, picking at my nails.

Lydia coughed over her laugh, covering her mouth to clear her throat as Stiles nudged my hip, shaking his head, even though an amused smile was lifting the corners of his lips.

As we walked, Stiles pulled us ahead, closer to the guard, "Hey, uh, what's the etiquette for talking to this guy? I mean, do you ever look at the other eye?"

"I wouldn't." The man said, "In fact, while you're down here, try not to make eye contact with anyone or anything."

The hell does that mean?

As we walked down the last hall to the door, my hand slid from Stiles's, and I froze in my spot as him and Lydia made it to the door.