Slightly In On It (Slightly Awkward Sequel---Teen Wolf)

CHAPTER SEVEN---Restraint

"If Jackson doesn't know what he's doing, then he probably doesn't know that someone's controlling him," Allison said over speaker phone, talking to me, Scott and Stiles before he had to see Stiles' and my dad.

"Or he doesn't remember," Scott said.

"What if it's the same kind of thing that happened with Lydia when she took off from the hospital?" Stiles asked.

"A fugue state?" Allison said.

"He'd have to forget everything," I said. "The murder--"

"Getting rid of the blood," Allison went on.

"Yeah, he had help with one tough thing, though--" Stiles said. "The video. And someone else helped him forget that."

"Whoever's controlling him," Scott said.

"Are you sure Jackson has no clue about any of this?"

"He thinks he's still becoming a werewolf and that being with Lydia somehow delayed the whole thing," Stiles said.

"So do we try and convince him he's not?"

"If it helps us find out who's controlling him, then yeah," Scott said.

"Do you think he'll talk to us after what we did?"

"Yeah, it's us," I said. "He'll talk to us. Right?"

I wasn't the one that was getting a restraining order. Scott and Stiles were, because they were the guys, and I was just in trouble because I had stolen the van.

"You will not go within 50 feet of Jackson Whittemore," Dad said, looking at a book, and then to Stiles and Scott. "You will not speak to him. You will not approach him. You will not assault or harass him physically or psychologically."

He let the book drop to the table. Stiles looked from Mr. Whittemore and our dad. "What about school?"

"You can attend classes while attempting to maintain a 50-foot distance."

"Bu--okay. What if we both have to use the bathroom at the same time," all of the parents in the room--ours, Scott's mom, and Jackson's dad--crossed their arms at the same time,  "and there's only two stalls available, and they're only right next to each other?" Dad looked at him very seriously, not saying a word. "I'll just hold it."

Dad dragged us both out, saying, "Do I need to remind you how lucky we are that they're not pressing charges?" He looked at me. "They didn't feel necessary to have a restraining order against you, but you were just as much apart of this as they were."

"I know," I said, slightly innocent. "Sorry."

"Oh, come on, it was just a joke," Stiles said.

"It was a joke?" Dad repeated.

"Yes," I said. "We didn't think it would be taking this seriously."

Dad started to say something, but Stiles beat him, "Dad, humor's very subjective, okay? I mean, we're talking, like, multiple levels of interpretation here."

"Uh-huh," Dad said.

"Uh-huh," I repeated.

Dad was looking only at me, pointing at me, then himself, back to me. "Okay, well, how exactly am I supposed to interpret the stolen prison transport van, huh?"

I saw Scott and his mom passing behind our dad.

"We filled the tank!" I said.

"Move," Scott's mom told him, pushing him into the next hall.