The Other McCall ✢ Stilinski | 1

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-SEVEN 

"You're not even French, are you?" I asked Ms. Morrell, sitting on a chair opposite her table. I know for a fact that Stiles has had helped from Ms. Morrell, and I'm hoping she's gonna be good for me.

"French-Canadian." Ms. Morrell said. Oh.

"Which means you're a Canadian who speaks French." I said smartly, this is going to be a long day. "And, seeing I'm placing my mental health in your hands, how about you tell me what, as a French teacher qualifies you to be a guidance counselor?"

"I have a masters behavioral psychology, and have done over 300 hours on field work." I pressed my lips at her answer.

"Hm." I exhale. "Ca va Bien." I just told her I'm fine in French. I'm an A+ student in French.

"If you're really fine, what are you doing here?" Ms. Morrell asked, shrugging her shoulders.

"Appeasing my mum so she doesn't take away my car privileges," I smirk.

"Have you talked to your friends about what happened to you?" That's the thing, I don't even know what I am.

"Yeah." I lie. "They're great. Totally supportive, especially my boyfriend. Stiles? You remember him?"

"Yes, I remember him." Ms. Morrell nodded. "Do you trust him?"

"Implicitly," I said.

Ms. Morrell smiled. "Good. But still be cautious."

"Why?" I asked. "Because sometimes the people closest to you can be holding you back the most?"

Ms. Morrell looked up from her desk. "Indeed. Did you read that somewhere?"

"I don't know," I told her, honestly. "Maybe I heart it."

"Well, it sounds like whoever said it left an impression." Ms. Morrell smiled. Maybe.

✢

I watch as someone knocks down a lacrosse player for tonight's game at lacrosse. I was sitting by Stiles, who was holding my hand nervously.

"Come on! Is that thing even a teenager? I wanna see a birth certificate!" Coach snapped from the sidelines. "Who or what is that genetic experiment went wrong?"

The coach sits down next to us, on Stiles' other side.

"Eddie Obomowitz, Coach." Stiles said. "They call him the abomination."

"Oh, that's cute." Coach scoffed. This was the semi-final game for lacrosse, I hope we win. I bite my bottom lip, as a comfort. I glance over to Allison, who had Gerard's coat on which meant the plan was working.

We needed a key to access the bestiary, which was a book, which meant we that we had to steal it from Gerard and it was in his coat, to the principal's office. The reason why we want the bestiary is because we can then find out what the reptile thing meant.

"Come on, that's our cue." I whisper to Stiles, and stood up, he stands along with me, not letting go of my hand. We walked over to where Allison was sitting, and Stiles held out a hand sneakily and received the hard drive on its keys.

I squeeze Stiles hand and we walked quickly away, Stiles slipped the keys into his pocket. I feel like a badass.

Stiles and I ran towards the parking lot, we need to get out of here. As we ran, we stopped and saw Lydia crying in her car. Stiles ran towards the car, I sighed.

"Hey, Lydia, what's wrong?" Stiles asked, and Lydia pulled up the window, and I soon stand beside Stiles.

"Lydia, come on..."

"Just go away!" Lydia sobbed.

"What's wrong?" I asked, pressing my head against the window.

"Look, I don't need anyone to see me cry," Lydia snapped, sobbing.

"Aw, come on, Lydia." Stiles sighed. I exhale. "You shouldn't care if people see you cry, all right? Especially you."

"Why?" Lydia breathes out, looking at us.

"Because I think you look beautiful when you cry," Stiles said. I sighed. I'm going to let this one go. Let it go, Stacey, you don't need to be jealous. Lydia then puts down the window.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," Lydia whimpered.

"Lydia, if you trust me on anything, you can trust me on this." I started. "There is nothing you can say to me that will make you sound crazy, literally, nothing." Crowds chair in the distance, and Stiles and I glance at each other.

Oh, we gotta go.

"Can you just give us five minutes?" Stiles asked. Lydia looked at us. "I know, we're sorry, just... stay right here, um, continue crying- or not crying, if you want, whatever works for you. Um, just stay here and we'll be right back, okay? And then we can talk. About anything. Yeah? Okay, just five minutes."

Let it go, Stacey, breath in, and out.

Stiles and I then sprint off into the school.

Heh.