Transformed (Incomplete)

Second Chance at First Line, Part VII

Saturday night, I sat with Mom in the bleachers.
"So, is he really as good as he says he is or ...?" Mom asks me.
"Scott? He's definitely improved," I say.
"What about Stiles?" Mom turns her head towards me.
"Him ... not so much," I respond. "His bench-riding skills, though - top notch." As soon as I see Scott and Stiles alone, I stand up. "I'll be right back," I tell Mom, working my way down the bleachers. I move carefully and I'm pretty sure I'm developing a full-blown fear of falling down bleachers. "Hey," I pop up next to Stiles and my brother. "Good luck."
"Thanks," Scott mutters, watching the stands.
"And I don't just mean for the game," I add. "Good luck on not shifting."
"Thanks," Scott's voice is dripping with sarcasm.
"No, I mean - don't do it," I say. "Or else, I'll have to hit you on the snout with a newspaper, got it?" Stiles snorts, but Scott just narrows his eyes at me. "So, good luck," I say again, shrugging. "You, too, Stiles. Don't fall off the bench."
"Jeez, Em," Stiles spews, smirking. "Really. You know just what to say to kick a guy when he's already down."
I roll my eyes, walking back to Mom. When I turn back to look at Stiles and Scott, I find Lydia standing extremely close to Scott. She straightens his jersey and laughs.
"Is that Allison?" Mom asks, looking at her.
"Nope," I say, shaking my head.
"Is he cheating on her?" Mom asks, looking at me with wide eyes. "Please tell me he's not cheating on her."
"That's Lydia," I explain.
"Oh, Stiles' girl," Mom recognizes the name.
"She's not Stiles' girl," I correct. "She's going out with Jackson. She's Stiles' crush."
"Jackson is the one Scott hurt?" Mom looks at me.
"Yes."
"What's she doing with Scott?" she watches them carefully.
"Probably chiding him for brutally injuring her boyfriend - again," I say, shrugging as Lydia pats Scott on the chest and walks away. A whistle blows and the lacrosse players, home and away, run onto the field. Except for Stiles, who stays sitting on the bench with a few other players.
I silently contemplate what would happen if Scott does shift on the field. I can't even imagine how people would react. Screaming, hands over their mouths in shock and horror, but other than that? It seems impossible to picture. I see Mr. Stilinski walk up to Stiles on the bench.
"Down!" the ref yells. "Set!"
A whistle blows and the game starts. People cheer and applaud. I notice right away no one's passing Scott the ball. He holds out his arms, looking frustrated. I narrow my eyes at Stiles.
"I'll be back," I say to Mom again.
"Wait - where are you going? The game just started," she protests.
"Oh, I just have to ask Stiles a question," I assure her. She nods and I make my way down the bleachers to Stiles. I land heavily behind him. "Did you tell people not to pass the ball to Scott so that he doesn't shift on the field?" I demand loudly.
"Whoa!" Stiles cries in surprise at me yelling in his ear. "Emerson! Don't sneak up on me like that!"
I cross my arms. It seems suspicious how he hasn't answered yet.
"Did you?" I ask again.
"No," Stiles answers, looking back to the game. I can tell that he really didn't. "No, but it's frustrating him."
"Frustration is pulse-raising," I singsong.
"Like I need reminding," Stiles quips.
Back on the field, Scott runs towards the ball left on the ground.
"Do you think someone else did?" I ask. Jackson runs up to Scott, slamming into him to get to the ball. "Nevermind. I think he did."
I turn around to look at Mom's reaction. She has her hands over her mouth. As I return my attention to the field, Jackson scores a goal.
"So does anger," Stiles swallows. We both sit there as everyone else cheers. I hear Coach yelling something about getting fired up. That's the last thing Scott needs. Stiles turns and I follow his gaze to Lydia and Allison clapping for Jackson. Then, Lydia elbows Allison and bends down. They hold up a giant sign that says "WE LUV U JACKSON."
"Oh my god," I say aloud, watching them. I look at Scott to see if he saw. Naturally, he was staring straight at it. "So does jealousy."
"Why? Why is this happening? Of all the games -" Stiles starts to ramble, more to himself than to me. "Brutal."
Scott turns away angrily from the sign.
"Oh this is not gonna be good," Stiles says. They reline up and I see Scott standing, bent awkwardly and breathing heavily. The ref walks up and says something to him. Scott nods. The guy behind him backs up. Scott looks towards the bleachers again and I swear I see his eyes glow yellow.
"Stiles ..." I say, my voice high-pitched. The yellow disappears as quickly as it came.
"I saw it too," Stiles swallows heavily again.
"What do we do if he shifts?" I ask.
"I don't know," Stiles says sarcastically. "I forget what it said in the manual that came with the bite!"
"You're hilarious," I retort, just as much sarcasm in my own voice.
"Down!" the referee shouts. "Set!"
He blows the whistle, jumping away from the action. The away team gets the ball and throws it high into the air. Scott follows the ball with his eyes and a group of lacrosse players huddle under the ball, preparing to catch it. Scott runs, jumping over them all to catch it himself. He sprints down the field, ducking out of the way of the other team's defense. I turn to look at Mom and see her jumping and grinning, clapping happily. Scott sends the ball sailing into the net and the bleachers erupt into cheers. We're almost tied now, only behind by one point. Stiles jumps up and starts cheering.
"Yeah!" I hear Mom yell and I duck my head.
"Yes! That's what I -!" Stiles shouts. "What? What?"
I clap my hands, feeling embarrassment for Stiles. He runs out onto the field behind Coach, who yells,
"McCall! Pass to McCall!"
"Set!" I hear the ref yell. He blows his whistle and Stiles returns to the bench.
A player from the away team gets the ball and starts to run. Stiles chews on his lacrosse glove as my brother steps in front of the other guy. The player stops, hesitant. Then, he passes the ball right to Scott.
"Did you see that?" I ask, squinting at Scott, who was now running down the field. Coach plops down next to Stiles.
"Did the opposing team just deliberately pass us the ball?" he frowns.
"Yes, I believe so, Coach," Stiles replies, jiggling his leg.
"Interesting," Coach gets up. Scott whips the ball at the net and the goalie shoves his stick in front of the ball's path. Damn. I was really hoping Scott would tie the game up. Maybe if he did, he could relax. I look to Stiles to say something and then people start cheering.
"Yes! Yes!" Stiles cheers. I look up, seeing both the scores were five.
"How the -" I say out loud. Then, I see the goalie's stick. There's a gaping, ball-sized hole in the netting. Scott sent the ball right through the freaking netting. "Did you see that?" I ask Stiles.
"Yes, Em," he says nervously. "I am seeing all of this."
He gets up and runs after Coach onto the field.
"Way to go, McCall," Coach says. The opposing team protests the goal. "What? The ball's in the net!"
"Ball's in the net!" Stiles parrots.
"That's the goal of the game," Coach says. "It's to get the ball in the net. We got it."
Coach blows the whistle. They start the lineup. People back away from Scott.
"No, Scott, no, no," Stiles mutters. My brother whips the ball into the net again and the crowd cheers. The timer turns to zero.
"It's over," I say, dumbstruck. I break into a grin. "It's over!"
"Yes!" Stiles shouts, jumping up and throwing his hands in the air. He lets out a freakish laugh. "Oh my god."
"He didn't shift!" I say, jumping in front of Stiles, just as excited as he is. He grabs my hands and we jump in a circle like schoolchildren, but I don't care. I'm too overjoyed. "He made it through an entire game!"
"I know! I saw!" Stiles cheers. We jump gleefully for another minute and then I wait for Mom so we can go congratulate Scott - for more than one thing, in my case.