"Maybe it was my blood on the door," Scott says as he turns around. I try to ignore his and Stiles' conversation because it's Harris' class and he'll probably try and expel us just for walking while he's teaching.
"Could have been animal blood," Stiles adds. I keep writing notes, trying harder to block them out. "You know, maybe you caught a rabbit or something."
"And did what?" Scott asks. I close my eyes, trying to focus on Chemistry for a moment.
"Ate it," Stiles responds. I smirk to myself, trying not to laugh just at the way he said it.
"Raw?" Scott says. I press the back of my hand to my mouth to keep from laughing. Seriously, Emerson. This is not a good time.
"No," Stiles retorts. "You stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven."
Mr. Harris turns just as Stiles says that and I lose it, snorting hideously, causing Mr. Harris to put his hands on his hips. I brace myself for him to yell at me.
"Mr. Stilinski, if that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in awhile," Mr. Harris says. Stiles scoffs, but I let my shoulder relax. He's yelling at Stiles, not me. "And Miss McCall," he looks to me. I spoke too soon. "If that's your idea of a laugh, you might want to stick around boring, humorless people."
"Like you?" I mutter to myself, sinking into my seat. The way Harris' eyes narrow, I think he actually might've heard me.
"I think you, Mr. Stilinski, and Mr. McCall might benefit from a little distance, yes?" he asks.
"No," Stiles and I say at the same time. We exchange a look. Harris points to three different locations around the room.
"Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much," he taunts. I bark out a humorless laugh and Stiles scoffs again. I flop my stuff back down in my new spot.
"Hey! I think they found something!" a girl in a turquoise top shouts suddenly, before I can even sit. I'm pretty sure her name is Harley. She jumps up and runs to the window. Everyone follows. A man rolls somebody on a stretcher towards an ambulance.
"That's not a rabbit," Scott says. I swallow heavily, watching.
"Maybe you didn't do that," I say, thinking of my own psychic powers. What if he just dreamt it the way I've been seeing visions? We're siblings, so maybe Scott has some of it too. I'm really like this theory at the moment and I'm really trying not to believe with it all my heart because a part of me knows Scott's not. Maybe it's the pessimist part or maybe it's the psychic part.
"And the dream?" Stiles counters.
"Whose side are you on?" I ask, reluctant to tell Scott and Stiles about my visions. The man suddenly jumps up, shouting, and I scream in response. Stiles grabs my arm with both his hands, jumping backwards.
"Okay," he says, letting go just as soon as he held on. "This is good, this is good."
"He's not dead," I supply hopefully.
"He got up, he's not dead," Stiles echoes. "Dead guys can't do that."
"Not any I've met, anyways," I say. "But if werewolf exist, maybe zombies do too?"
Stiles opens his mouth to make a sarcastic comment, I can tell, but Scott cuts him off.
"Stiles ... Emerson ..." Scott says slowly. "I did that."
YOU ARE READING
Transformed (Incomplete)
Fanfiction"Don't be afraid of change. You might lose something good, but you'll gain something better." Emerson McCall is a pretty average high school student. She has one friend she shares with her brother, Scott, and between the two of them, she has all she...
