twentynine

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"He's probably just warming up."

Stiles had just caught the ball only to be tackled to the ground seconds later. Melissa, Lydia, Dad, and I were all hoping that Stiles could at least do something to benefit the team.

"He's just a little nervous, plenty of time to turn it around."

Lydia. She was trying to make it seem that Stiles incapability to get the ball of the ground and still getting tackled was just do to being nervous.

"He just can't play lacrosse."

I give up. Stiles sucks. The ball was coming right to him and he still didn't catch it.

"You came to help."

The sound of Scott's voice brought my attention to the bench.

My hear rage spiked when I saw who was sitting on the bench beside Scott.

"Isaac." I whispered.

I saw his expression change for a split second, he had heard me. I hadn't seen Isaac since he helped bring me out of that panic attack a few nights ago. He obviously decided to ignore me, because he began talking to Scott again.

"I came to win." he smirked at Scott.

The two of them looked over to where Gerard stood. My eyes drifted to the old man, he glared at the two teen boys. No words were spoken though.

"You got a plan yet?" Isaac asked as he looked at the ground in front of him.

Scott shook his head, "Right now it's pretty much just keep Jackson from killing anyone."

"Well that might be easier if you're actually in the game. We have to make it so Coach has no choice but to play you."

Scott sighed, "How do we do that? He's got a bench full of guys he could use before he ever puts me on the field."

They both gave each other looks.

"Can you do it without putting anyone in the hospital?" Scott asked.

Isaac blew out some air as he slipped his helmet on, "I can try."

I watched as they carried Isaac off the field and Melissa ran onto it. Jackson must've gotten Isaac, he wouldn't have gone down this easily.

"Something's happening, isn't it? Something more than a lacrosse game."

Scott breathed out, "You should go."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere. With everything that I said before, forget it. All of it. Okay, if you can do something to help. Then you do it. You have to." Melissa nodded to her son.

He back up, "I will."

"He's got the ball!" I shrieked, "Stiles has the ball!"

I stood up as Stiles ran down the field with the ball. It was open. The field was completely open.

"Oh crap." Dad groaned rubbing his temples.

He stopped just before the goal, looking around. I heard Coach yell at him the shoot the ball. All of a sudden, Lydia stood up beside Melissa.

"Shoot it!" she screamed.

And he did.

And it went in. 

We all screamed and jumped up. And by "we" I mean the entire crowd. Stiles had made a goal.

My brother had made a goal.

"I scored a goal!" Stiles yelled from the field, his hands up in the air.

And a minute later, he did it again.

Two goals for Stiles.

We were tied! This is unbelievable!

Who knew Stiles Stilinski could score a goal.

"Holy Shit!" I screamed as yet another ball from by brother went into the goal.

My words were welcomed by glares from multiple parents, but I didn't care. I'm a proud sister. My brother has never been this good at anything.

The final buzzer for the game went off. We had won.

We freaking won!

Maybe this whole Jackson killing someone during the game wasn't gonna happen after all! I mean the game is already over and I don't even know where Jackson is. He's not in the team huddle.

"Nothing happened. Nothing." I heard Scott say from somewhere on the field.

And that's when all the lights went off, one by one, and someone let out a blood curdling scream.

Something did happen.

It's like everything was going in slow motion around me. People pushing past me. Students tripping. Everyone was screaming as they fled the field.

Seconds later the lights started coming back on. Then I saw Coach running toward the group of lacrosse players, they were gathered around someone. Then Melissa ran over.

Someone was hurt.

I ran over with Lydia who was screaming for Jackson. When we reached the group, sure enough, Jackson was laying there on the ground.

Unconscious.

"He's not breathing," Melissa looked up at Coach, "There's no pulse."

My mind was racing as I stood there. I couldn't hear anything of what people were saying. Was Jackson really the only one who was going to die tonight. I thought it would be more devastating. I thought it would be bigger.

"Where's Stiles?"

It was my Dad's voice that cut through to me. I looked up, looking around the field like my Dad was doing.

"Where's my son?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I let out a shaky breath when I didn't see my brother anywhere, "Where's Stiles?"

"Where's my son?" Dad asked, walking around.

The two of us desperately searched the field for signs of my brother. How could he have just disappeared?

"WHERE THE HELL IS MY SON?!"

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