PLAYER | DEREK HALE

Night School

I can't breathe. The pain is unbearable, like a vice tightening around my chest.

"Jay, are you okay?" Scott's voice pierced through my haze, pulling me back to reality.

I couldn't speak.

The guy I liked, Derek, had just been killed right in front of me, minutes after our first kiss. The memory felt like a cruel joke. I watched the boys frantically moving desks and talking, but all I could do was lean against the wall and slide down to the floor, tears streaming down my face.

"Deaton, the alpha, your boss," Stiles said, his voice rising.

"No!" Scott shouted, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Yes, murdering psycho werewolf," Stiles insisted.

"It can't be," Scott whispered.

"Oh, come on. He disappears, then that thing shows up ten seconds later and throws Derek twenty feet in the air... That's not convenient timing," Stiles told Scott, who looked back at me.

"It's not him," Scott said, turning back to Stiles.

"He killed Derek!" I yelled, standing up and walking over to Scott. "This is all your fault. Why did you try to prove him wrong? He would still be alive if you weren't so selfish and trying to show off!"

"Jay, I'm sorry!" Scott said, trying to hug me, but I pushed him away.

"I hate you, Scott. I hate you so much," I cried, tears pouring from my eyes.

Stiles came over and hugged me, and his hug I accepted because he didn't get anyone killed.

"Derek's not dead, he can't be dead," Scott insisted.

"Blood spurted out of his mouth, okay? That doesn't exactly qualify as a minor injury. He's dead, and we're next," I said, glaring at Stiles, who hugged me tighter.

"Just... What do we do?" Scott asked, his voice shaky.

"We get to Stiles' jeep and get out of here. And you seriously need to start thinking about quitting your job," I said, letting go of Stiles.

Scott moved to the window, trying to open it.

"They don't open, idiot!" I said, exasperated. "School's climate control."

"We break it!" Scott suggested.

"You're an idiot. It will just make a lot of noise," I retorted.

"Then we run... really fast."

"Stiles, what's wrong with your jeep?" I asked, looking out the window to see Stiles' damaged jeep.

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong," he said.

"It's bent," I pointed out.

"Dented?"

"No, she means bent," Scott said, examining the jeep.

"What the hell?" Stiles muttered.

Suddenly, something came crashing through the window, and we all ducked. "That's my battery," Stiles said in disbelief.

"We have to move," I urged.

"He could be right outside," Scott cautioned.

"He is right outside, idiot," I said.

"Just let me see," Stiles said, giving Scott a death glare. He peeked outside. "Nothing?" I asked.

"Nothing," Stiles confirmed.

"Move now?" Scott asked.

"Move now," I echoed.

We quietly made our way into the hallway. "This way," I pointed.