Spitfire ☼ Stiles Stilinski

chapter three

Freya sat on the cold metal bench, coffee mug in hand, taking in the sights around her. The lacrosse field was busier than she expected for a Tuesday morning practice. It was six thirty, and she was expecting an almost completely empty field, besides herself and the players. But all around her were students, sitting in the bleachers, texting their friends and laughing together. On the field, all the lacrosse players were putting on their gear, getting ready for the practice.

Scott and Stiles walked past her. She caught Scott's eye and smiled. He quickly looked away from her. Stiles followed his gaze, laying eyes on Freya. She smiled and waved to him. He looked away too. She wasn't really surprised by the action. She figured Stiles would have been the first person Scott told about her being with Derek in the clearing that night.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled out the small phone to see Derek had sent her a text.

"Taking the car" was all it said. She groaned inwardly. Now how was she supposed to get home? Driving the Camaro was one of the only reasons she had agreed to wake up at six in the morning to take Isaac to lacrosse practice.

"We've got a problem." Isaac said, sitting down next to her. Freya jumped slightly.

"What?"

"Scott knows something's up," he told her. "I heard him talking about it with Stiles in the locker room. He knows there's another werewolf on the team."

Freya looked over at Scott and Stiles who were sitting together, talking.

"What am I suppose to do?" he asked her.

Just as Freya was about to answer him, Coach Finstock blew his whistle.

"Let's go! Line up! Faster!" he yelled. His eyes scanned his surroundings, making sure his team was making their way to the field. His eyes landed on Isaac. "That means you too Lahey! Let's go!"

Isaac grudgingly got up, giving Freya a pleading look as he ran towards the line.

"Let's go, let's go!" Coach yelled. "Make daddy proud."

Then Coach blew his whistle, and the practice began. He tossed the ball to the first player in line, number eighteen, who caught it and took off running towards the goal. Freya watched as Scott, who was playing goalie, rush out of the goal, towards the player, and tackle him to the ground. He quickly helped the player up, but Freya watched as Scott gave the player a good sniff before letting him step out of his reach.

"McCall?!"

"Yah?"

"Usually the goalie," Coach explained, "stays somewhere within the vicinity of the actual goal."

"Yes Coach." Scott ran back to his place in the goal. Freya bit down on her knuckle. Coach blew the whistle again. The next player, number eight, caught the ball and took off running towards the goal, just like number eighteen before him. And just like the time before, Scott came barreling out of the goal towards him. This time he went for the legs, flipping the player over his shoulder, causing the player to do a flip in the air and land on his back. Scott took a quick sniff of the guy before returning to his position in the goal.

"McCall! The position's goal keeper. Not goal abandoner."

"Sorry Coach."

But once again, Scott took off running towards the next guy, sending him flying through the air. Freya's eyes flicked over to where Isaac was standing in line. She could see his was getting more anxious the longer he stood there. He was practically shaking from all his pent up energy. Freya just sat on the bench, coffee cup sitting beside her now completely forgotten. She was tapping her foot anxiously and biting her lip. She knew she should get Isaac off the field, but she didn't know how without drawing attention to the situation. Scott took another player to the ground, leaving only Jackson between Isaac and Scott.