The Longer I Live

Chapter 7: Yeah, Your Urge to Kill

Jackson Whittemore's funeral took place several days later. Anyone who was anyone attended the service to pay their respects to the fallen town jock and to offer their condolences to Jackson's father Mr. Whittemore, the town's elite attorney. Also, in attendance were the Argents, who sat at the back of the church pew, while several of the athlete's peers shared uplifting stories about the late junior. Stiles laughed in silence acknowledging the reality. None of his classmates liked the arrogant jock so it was a bit of contradiction that they said good things about him.

Realizing he was starting to doze off, he opened his eyes wide when he saw Danny Mahealani take to the podium. Danny looked so handsome in his black suit that Stiles kept picturing what they would be wearing at their senior prom. Noticing his son daydreaming, Sheriff Argent slapped his shoulder to bring him back to reality.

"Jackson Whittemore was both a friend and well admired classmate among his peers," Danny read off his speech. "As a philanthropist and good Samaritan, he often would go out of his way to help his fellow students."

"Liar!" Stiles coughed. All eyes turned toward him, just as he cleared his throat. "Sorry, I have a tickle in my throat since this morning."

He observed Danny who rolled his eyes. The Hawaiian teen continued. "Jackson will be remembered for his athletic abilities and for how much he loved his girlfriend, Lydia Martin."

"WHHHHHY!" Lydia cried. With eyes dripping with mascara, the red headed teen buried her face into her handkerchief. Tossing her hands up in the air, she was hysterical. "TAKE ME! WHY COULDN'T IT BE ME! OH LORD!" Allison rushed to her side to hold the sobbing girl.

Danny finally closed off his speech. "And Jackson will certainly be missed." As he got off the stage, the next speaker recycled the same eulogy as did several others who followed right after. Stiles groaned in his bench as he managed to sit through every single celebratory dedication to the late jock.

Once outside, the young man found a vacant shade near a tree as a small pinch of a migraine throbbed across his forehead. Taking out his medication, he popped a pill the moment Danny came up behind him.

"Headache?" The Hawaiian teen asked. Stiles felt his knees buckling.

"Yeah, just had to pop an aspirin," The hazel eyed lad replied.

"You know that was really low of you to make a remark about Jackson," Danny pointed out. "Especially since he died."

"Well he wasn't exactly my favorite person," Stiles responded with brutal honesty. "If you recall, he was my high school tormentor."

"I admit that Jackson can be ass sometimes," Danny sighed. "But he had some good traits. You just never saw them. I was hoping we all could be friends."

"When pigs fly," he snorted. "Face it, Danny. That never was going to happen. I'm the high school dork and you're part of the popular in-crowd. Like oil and water, we don't mix. I doubt that Jackson would accept you as his buddy if he ever found out about us."

Danny leaned forward to cover his mouth. "Shhh. Quiet. Someone might hear us."

Stiles ripped the athlete's hand away from his lips. "See this is what I'm talking about. You're embarrassed to be seen with me and not only that you won't admit to yourself exactly what you are."

"Don't get all high and mighty on me Stiles Argent!" Danny gritted. "I don't see you raising the rainbow flag anytime soon in this town. Have you told your family yet?"

"Have you?"

Both boys glanced at each other with the realization of the truth. Both were at a stalemate.