The Absence of Truth | S. Stilinski

XXIX. | kidnapped

XXIX. | kidnapped

                    TOWARD THE END of the second quarter, that normal teenager feeling began to dissipate. Not only was the rival team winning the game, but I could see Scott talking to an un-helmeted Isaac Lahey down on the bench. Technically, Isaac was on our team, I knew that. Still, every time I saw him, I felt my heartbeat quicken with anxiety. He hadn't always been the good guy.

During a timeout called by Beacon Hills, Isaac was put on the field. Slyly, I began to recognize Scott's plan. He was going to try and stop Jackson from hurting someone, but he couldn't get on the field unless the coach let him. There were four players on the bench that would be subbed in before him, which meant Isaac was playing to injure players.

Under my breath, I whispered so Lydia and the Sheriff couldn't hear me. "Isaac," I said, "Keep your hands off of my brother, got it?"

On the field, Isaac's head popped up. He nodded in the direction of the bleachers and put on his helmet. To anyone else, it looked like a nod to the crowd to cheer, but I knew what it really meant. Presley was safe, at least for now.

One by one, Isaac tackled, tripped, and misled players from the Beacon Hills team. He did his job well until the fourth quarter, where a spat with Jackson had him down on his back. Only this time he stayed down. Scott was subbed in as Isaac was carted away, and over the Sheriff's shoulder, Melissa locked eyes with me.

What's going on? She mouthed furiously. She'd noticed the plan too. Internally, I saluted her for catch on so well, but then her eyes hardened like steel.

I looked around to make sure no one was watching us. I don't know, I mouthed back.

The game started again, but I was on edge now. My eyes scanned the field after a few hard hits, noticing that at some point, Scott had disappeared. I didn't point it out, though, because Lydia was cheering in my ear and the Sheriff was actually smiling. Maybe, for a few minutes at least, I could simulate that normal teenager feeling. I forced a smile on my face, and continued watching the game.

As the fourth quarter came close to ending, there was a shuffle on the field. Almost every player moved in on the Beacon Hills side, converging on the goal that would end the game and Beacon Hills season. At last second, I watched the ball shoot out of the struggle and out to the other side of the field, where one red jersey stood. He looked at the ball, then up at the bleachers. That damn red jersey didn't move at all, and when the group I was with saw the number on the back, we all sighed in exhaustion.

The confusion on the other side of the field wouldn't last for much longer, meaning that the stoic player would need to scoop up the ball and shoot a shot soon. I stood up in my seat and yelled as loud as I could, over the sounds of cheers and whistles. "Stiles! Get the damn ball!"

The player blanked for a few more seconds, but listened to me and scooped up the ball in his net. Since his half of the field was empty, Stiles had no problem getting to the net. In fact, the only defense he had to get through was the goalie. I laughed, because victory was within our grasp, and then Stiles skidded to a stop.

All at once, the crowd screamed. Stiles was three feet from the goal, ball in his net and ready to go. But he was standing there. Around me, people stood in their seats and yelled as loud as they could, following in my footsteps. I joined, Lydia helping me.

"Shoot it!" We all yelled. "Just shoot the ball!"

Stiles took his time, eyes scanning the competition as it ran down the field to catch him, but ultimately listened, throwing the ball with all of his strength. It flew through the air, before hitting the goal net. The Sheriff cheered along with the rest of the crowd. Stiles himself raised his hands in triumph. There were four minutes left on the clock, which was plenty enough time for the team to pull forward and win.