Transformed (Incomplete)

Second Chance at First Line, Part I

    After the cryptic comment from Scott about Allison's dad, he ditched me near the parent pick up, walking quickly and refusing to slow down or answer me when I called his name. I had almost caught up with him when he went into the boys' locker room. I stopped at the door, crossing my arms in frustration.
    "You can't stay in there forever, Scott!" I shout angrily. If I didn't know how many lacrosse players were in there, I would have marched in after my brother and demanded an answer. Instead, I stomp out to the bleachers and start working on math homework while I wait for Stiles or my brother to come out. As I'm staring at the bright white paper, almost blinding in the sun, I see someone laying on the ground, clutching their arm in the blank space next to problem four. I blink twice, imprints of the paper still on my eyelids.
    "Let's go!" Coach shouts suddenly, jarring me from my work. I realize I've somehow missed both Scott and Stiles' emergences from the locker room. "Jackson - take a long stick today."
    Jackson stops, drops the stick in his hands, and picks up a longer one, proudly showing Coach. I roll my eyes. He's such a coach's pet.
    "McCall! What are you waiting for?" Coach shouts. "Let's go."
    I glance between Scott and Jackson. Maybe a few minutes ago, I wanted to yell at Scott and shake him until he told me what he meant, but now I feel nothing but sympathy and pity. Jackson's going to murder Scott, especially after Scott's recent rise to lacrosse success.
    But then, I remember Stiles' chair. Scott is a werewolf now. He's stronger, faster, and better. He could beat Jackson. He could do more than beat Jackson. In less than a minute flat, my sympathy has moved from my brother to his enemy. Scott's going to murder Jackson, maybe even literally. Once again, I forget my homework and become absorbed in watching lacrosse. I don't know why I even bother to try anymore.
    Scott starts running and before I can blink, he and Jackson are colliding - except, Scott's the one on the ground. I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe the worst thing that could happen would be a regular lacrosse injury instead of death. Coach calls my brother's name and I can see Jackson gloating, even from under his helmet.
    "You sure you still wanna be first line, McCall?" Jackson's voice floats over to me.
    "My - My grandmother can move faster than that and she's dead," Coach taunts Scott. "You think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my grandmother?"
    "Yes, Coach," Scott says.
    "Then do it again!" Coach calls. Scott stands. "McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!"
    Scott takes his place back in the front of the line, ready to try again. Coach blows his whistle and shouts, "Let's go!"
    Scott runs forward, slamming right into Jackson. He wasn't even trying to get the ball in the net. He was going for revenge. I jump up as Jackson falls to the ground, clutching his arm. I'm reminded of the vision I had earlier. I don't focus on Jackson and the vision for long, though, because Scott starts clutching his helmet in pain. He collapses to the ground and I make my way down the bleachers. Even though this is kind of an emergency and I want to move fast, I still take my time going down the bleachers. I wouldn't be much help if I fell on my face in the mud and broke my neck.
    "Scott?" Stiles asks, running up to him. Coach and everyone else mills around Jackson and I have to maneuver around the group to get to Scott. "Scott, you okay?" Stiles asks again, grabbing my brother.
    I reach them just as Scott says, "I can't control it, Stiles. It's happening."
    "Fantastic!" I say sarcastically, looking around. Nobody seems to be focused on the shifting werewolf in the middle of the field right now, which is good. But I don't know how long they could stay focus if Scott turns into a full-on wolf.
    "What? Right here? Now?" Stiles stammers. I feel him starting to panic. "Alright, come on, get up. Come on. Come on."
Stiles coerces Scott to his feet and guides him around the group hovering over Jackson. I have to run to keep up with them. My hearts pounds way faster than it actually should. I'll bet Scott believes us now. I could've swore I saw Derek Hale again, but I'm running too fast to pay attention and I'm too worried about Scott shifting to care.
"Come on, here we go," Stiles says, bringing Scott into the locker room. Inside, Scott falls to the floor, breathing heavily. "There. That's it," Stiles mutters. Scott keeps panting. "You okay? Scott, you okay?"
"Scott?" I ask.
"Get away from me!" Scott roars. Stiles' eyes widen and he moves backwards. I nearly jump out of my skin. Then, Scott lunges forward towards me and Stiles. Stiles slams into the locker and I hide next to him, my adrenaline making my heart feel like it's pounding out of my chest. A loud crash sounds through the locker room and I look up and scream, finding Scott crouched on top of the lockers above us. Stiles falls against the other side of the lockers.
"Holy shit!" I yell, running to the other end of the row.
Scott creeps down the row towards me and Stiles runs forward, grabbing me and pulling me into the next aisle. Then, Scott is up in the rafters. Stiles and I keep running through the rows of lockers until we come out by a fire extinguisher, which Stiles promptly runs into. Scott roars impossibly loud and I shriek like a complete girl. I mean, I am a girl. But I don't want to shriek like one. Stiles stops moving and grabs the fire extinguisher, giving Scott the perfect chance to attack us.
"Stiles!" I shout, running around the corner as Scott lunges forward. Stiles turns on the fire extinguisher, spraying Scott. He roars and I see him moving around wildly in the mist as I peer around the corner. Stiles keeps spraying until my brother is left, bent over a bench. As soon as Stiles sees him, he ducks around the corner with me. We stand there, panting and listening.
"Stiles? Emerson?" Scott's voice comes hoarsely, but softly. We carefully peer around the corner. Scott's taken off his helmet and he looks normal. I let out a sigh of relief. "What happened?"
Stiles drops the fire extinguisher. I'm at a loss for words, so I leave the talking to him.
"You tried to kill me - us," Stiles says, glancing back at me and throwing his gloves on the ground. Way to be blunt, Stiles. "It's like I told you before," Stiles sits next to Scott. "It's the anger. It's your pulse rising. It's a trigger."
"But that's lacrosse," my brother replies. "It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed."
"Well, it's gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field," Stiles states.
"Or maim," I add. "Maiming is bad, too."
They both turn to glare at me and I hold up my hands in mock surrender. Not to self: my humor is not appreciated in sober moments after near death experiences.
"You can't play Saturday," Stiles tells my brother. "You're gonna have to get out of the game."
"But I'm first line," Scott argues.
"Not anymore," Stiles says softly.