I watch Stiles sit on the bleachers as I walk across the lacrosse field. He's got all of his lacrosse gear and he's seated in a spot quite familiar to him – the bench.
"What class are you missing to be here?" Stiles asks me as I approach.
"Doesn't matter," I shrug nonchalantly.
"Emerson, you should be -" Scott starts.
"And miss this?" I interrupt. "No way."
Maybe I'm still a little bitter about Derek telling me that I should be staying out of all of this, but I'm definitely staying.
"Okay," Stiles says. "Now ... put this on."
He holds out a strap to my brother.
"Isn't this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?" Scott asks.
"Yeah, I borrowed it," Stiles replies. I snort.
"Stole it," Scott corrects.
"Temporarily misappropriated," Stiles counters. I laugh and roll my eyes. "Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs. You're gonna wear it for the rest of the day."
"Isn't that Coach's phone?" Scott looks at the cell phone in Stiles' hands.
"Stiles!" I cry in surprise.
"That I stole," Stiles admits, nodding and licking his lips.
"Why?" Scott sighs.
"Alright. Well, your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right?" Stiles confirms. "When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison, whenever you get angry. Maybe learning to control it is learning to control your heart rate."
"Like the Incredible Hulk," Scott pieces it together.
"Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah," Stiles raises his eyebrows.
"No, I'm like the Incredible Hulk," Scott smirks.
"You wish," I roll my eyes.
"Just shut up and put the strap on?" Stiles watches my brother. Scott puts the heart rate monitor on and then Stiles duct tapes his hands behind his back.
"This isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my free period," Scott says.
"This is exactly how I wanted to skip class," I smile, amused.
"Alright. You ready?" Stiles asks my brother. He backs up, taking his lacrosse stuff with him.
"No," Scott answers honestly.
"Remember, don't get angry," Stiles reminds him. I stand out of the way, near the bleachers. Stiles bends down, fiddling with Coach's phone.
"I'm starting to think this is a really bad idea," Scott says nervously. I watch as Stiles scoops up one of the loose balls by his feet and shoots it at Scott. My brother groans, doubling in pain, and my jaw drops. Stiles does it again, hitting Scott right in the jaw. I bring my hand up to my own jaw and rub an imaginary pain.
"Okay, that one ... kinda hurt," Scott grunts. I can see people walking around the field and I wonder if they notice the guy tied up and being pelted with lacrosse balls. Probably not.
"Quiet," Stiles commands. "Remember – you're supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, alright? About staying calm."
Scott sighs as another ball flies at him. "Stay calm. Staying calm. Staying totally calm. There's no balls flying at my face," my brother breaks off in another cry of pain. Jackson stops by the bleachers.
"Can I help you?" I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows. Jackson never looks at me; he keeps his eyes on Scott and Stiles, smirking to himself.
"What are they doing?" he asks after a moment.
"What does it look like they're doing?" I retort, not really knowing how to answer.
I hear Scott yell in the background, "Son of a bitch!"
"You know what? I think my aim is actually improving," Stiles remarks.
"Okay, let me rephrase that for you," Jackson quips. "Why is Stilinski hitting your brother with balls?"
"Isn't that how you spend your free period, Jackson? Getting hit by balls?" I raise an eyebrow. "Or aren't you and Danny those kinds of friends?"
Jackson sputters unintelligibly. I think I've actually made Jackson Whittemore speechless. Scott groans louder than usual and Jackson and I both turn around. He's doubled over on the ground, the same way he was when he was about to shift after injuring Jackson. I turn back to look at the boy behind me. His eyes are glued onto my brother. Scott rips through the duct tape around his wrists and I know I have to do something to distract Jackson.
So, I do the one thing I've wanted to do for a really long time.
I punch him as hard as I can, my knuckles connecting loudly with his nose.
"Damn it!" Jackson yells and clutches his face.
"Sorry," I squeak out an apology. "I can take you to the nurse -" I start to offer.
"It's fine," he pushes me away from him and starts walking in the other direction. "I'm fine!" he calls again, his hand still over his nose. I take a couple steps back, still watching him, and once I'm sure he's not turning around, I run over to Scott and Stiles. Scott is still folded in half, groaning. But to my surprise, he falls onto his side, still human.
"Scott?" Stiles asks. "You started to change."
"From anger," Scott breathes. "But it was more than that. The angrier I got, the stronger I felt."
"So, it is anger then. Derek's right," Stiles concludes.
"I can't be around Allison," Scott looks down at the grass.
"Just because she makes you happy?" Stiles crinkles his forehead.
"No, because she makes me weak," Scott answers.
I look down at my throbbing fist. I guess if Scott's decided he can't be around Allison, it's not a good idea to tell him that I'm going over to Allison's on Friday.
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...
