One Of A Kind

Chapter 1: Sunshine

"Are all of you freaks incompetent?" Coach Finstock yelled. 

I rested my chin on my palm, eyelids dropping while we were only ten minutes into class. I guess this is what I got for staying up until 2:00 AM playing video games. You'd think that I could train my body to get used to only running on a few hours of sleep, but I hadn't succeeded yet.

"Bilinski!" Finstock yelled. I jolted, sitting up straighter, making my chair squeak. 

"Yes, coach?" I tried to blink away the sleepiness. All eyes were on me. It was a well known fact me and Finstock had a. . . strange relationship.

My dad and Finstock went to school together, so it wasn't uncommon to occasionally see my dad grabbing a burger with him every few months or so, and I tagged along occasionally, as awkward as it was at first, knowing he was my teacher. Even still, I seemed to be one of his most hated students, in the classroom and on the field.

Yes, it's true, I play lacrosse. Don't be fooled though, I'm not in with the jocks or really part of the team. My dad basically forced me to join, telling me how he was worried because I wasn't "involved" enough in school. I joined, but that doesn't mean I'm any good, or that I really want to be there. And it sure as shit doesn't mean I don't ride the bench. 

"Do you know the answer?" Finstock stuck both hands on his hips, eyes wide, waiting for an answer, eyes crazed. There was no way that man wasn't on drugs. 

"Uh, unintentional injury, coach." I mumbled. 

Finstock frowned, which was my confirmation that I got the question right. He found joy in my suffering, in my failure. It only pissed him off when I was correct. 

"That's right." He grumbled. "And you fuck-ups probably make up the majority of this statistic!" He frantically waved his pointer finger around, before turning back to the board.

It was well known that Bobby Finstock was a human who taught health in a supernatural school. No one was exactly sure why he taught here or how he knew everything that he did. It wasn't strange for kids to be cast out of their house, or brought here by force, the government worried we would be exposed. Maybe the government thought that Finstock had some sort of ability, but it turns out he was just weird, or, you know, on drugs. 

Then again, Beacon Hills isn't just a normal town, it's kind of a supernatural town really. Every human who comes through always seems to go running pretty quickly. We don't run around and try to scare them off, but, for as little credit as they get, humans can sense something is off, like a sixth sense. The minute they step into Beacon Hills the hair on the back of their neck stands up.

I tried to remain awake during the remainder of class and somehow succeeded, though I almost shit myself when the bell rang, half asleep and startled awake. 

"Don't do anything stupid!" Finstock yelled, particularly at the werewolves who were jumping over desks and shoving past each other to get out the door. It was lunch time.

As awful as school is in my opinion, the worst part by far is lunch. I mean, yeah there is food, but it's pretty shitty, and I have to deal with the awkwardness of trying to find somewhere to sit. Might as well just be honest with the fact that I spent my first month here eating in the bathroom, until the janitor started hanging out in there when I came in, wiping down the counters for far too long. He gave me the creeps.

My dad tells me frequently how lucky I am to go to a school like I do, a school that welcomes and accommodates everyone. I guess I can see what he means, with the blood warming station and uncooked meat for those who have special diets in the cafeteria, along with the vending machines, not to mention the classes and clubs. Either way, high school is. . . high school.