Back Home Again

Getting a Life Back

Thomas POV:

Thomas woke with start. He had been having those dreams again; where he was watching all of his friends die in front of him, and he couldn't do anything to stop it. This time it was worse, though. Not only had he watched all the Gladers die in front of him, but all his Beacon Hills friends. He rolled over, hoping he could fall back into a dreamless sleep when Minho came barging into his room. Thomas had been living with Minho, Gally, and Frypan; while the other Gladers had been bunking with his other friends.

"WAZZUP LADIES WE HAVE OURSELVES A SLEEPING BEAUTY THIS FINE MORNING!!!" Minho screamed, jumping on top of Thomas's bed.

"Dude, what the hell? You good?" Thomas was honestly more concerned for his friend than he had been in the Maze.

"Oh, shut up, shank. I'm peachy! Your dad made a pot of coffee!" Minho said with an evil smile.

Thomas rolled his eyes and stood up. He was worried about going back to school, since he didn't know any of the teachers, but they knew him. What was he going to say? Hi, my name isn't actually Stiles, it's Thomas and I have no clue who you are. Yea, that was a great approach.

Thomas pulled on some clothes and headed downstairs with Minho. Fry and Gally were already sitting at the counter eating bagels. Thomas slid into a chair next to them while Minho went back to the coffee pot for what was probably his seventh cup. Thomas should have told him to stop drinking so much of that, but the evil side of him just wanted to see what it would be like when he had to sit still in a classroom an hour at a time.

-𝖘-

Thomas, Minho, Frypan, and Gally pushed open the doors of the building and walked into the school. They had already gone to the school the previous day to get their schedules and everything, so all they had to do was find their class.

"Ok, so Minho and I have biology first, while Fry has Home Ed and Gally has P.E. After that we all have AP Chemistry together, and then we are split up for math. We will meet up with Scott and everyone for lunch, and then go from there. Good luck."

"Dude, you sound like your making a game plan. This is school not war," Minho remarked.

Thomas sighed, "Sorry, I'm just nervous. It's weird to have people smiling and talking to you when you have no idea who they are."

The three boys nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we kind of had that with W.I.C.K.E.D., too." Frypan piped up.

Once again the boys nodded in unison.

"See you all for AP Chem," Thomas said, and the boys went their separate ways.

-𝖘-

Thomas, Minho, Fry, and Gally all sat down at a table for lunch with Scott, Isaac, Malia, and Lydia. They discussed the day so far until-

"So, who's trying out for lacrosse?" Scott asked. "From the way you guys look, we could definitely use you all on the team!"

"I'll probably do it," Thomas said. "It would be best if I got back to the way things were, you know. Getting my life back and all that."

"I'm probably out. I was never a runner, plus I have no idea how the game works." Frypan said.

"Yeah, me neither," Gally agreed.

"I'll do it," Minho said. "It sounds fun! I love running so of course I would be perfect at it," he said, fake-flipping his hair. "Although I have no idea how the game works either, so I'll have to have a good instructor or whatever."

"Coach," Thomas and Scott said simultaneously.

"Okie dokie! I'm in. When are tryouts?"

-𝖘-

"Alright ladies, for all of you who are new, the game is simple. Pass the ball until you can score. For all of you who are not new, thanks for coming back. Except you, Greenberg. Please just quit the team.

"Split up into teams of four, and we'll start with a simple passing drill to get your lazy asses warmed up. Pass the ball between the four of you, while making your way up the field. Once you get to the end of the field, shoot the ball. Danny, you're in goal."

"Alright, Minho, Thomas; do you guys want to partner up with Isaac and I?"

"Yeah sure," Thomas said. "Minho?"

When he got no reply, he turned to see the boy smirking over at Coach, who was barking at the teams he was watching.

"Hey, Minho, you in?"

"What? Yeah, sure. I like that Coach guy," he laughed.

"Yeah, we all do," Thomas sighed, picking up his stick.

-𝖘-

"Congrats ladies, you've all survived your first go with the lacrosse team. Our new co-captains are Scott and . . . Stiles. Don't know how that happened, but congrats, kid, you finally mastered swinging a stick while running. Anyway, our newest member of first line will be Minho, for Isaac. Sorry, Isaac, but you are on the bench. Now, our first practice will be this Tuesday, so be there with your gear on, preferably, and don't be late! Now get out of my sight."

Thomas went straight to Minho. "Dude, you made first line! That's awesome. Are you seriously telling me you had never picked up a lacrosse stick before now?"

"Yessir, I must have natural talent," Minho smirked.

"Well, shank, you have yourself a-"

"Stiles, my office, now." Coach said.

"Whaaa. . . I- okay." Thomas said in confusion. He gave a confused look back at Minho, who just shrugged, then made his way to Coach's office.

"Um, Coach? You asked to see me."

"Stilinski, good. Well if you're not wondering why I asked you here, then you have more mental issues than I thought, so let me just be blunt about this. I know you were gone for some time, but I don't know the reason. I do know however, that the Stilinski who left a year ago is not you. Seriously. What the hell happened? You were a skinny, geeky, clumsy kid, and now you are some muscular, built, athlete? I don't want to know what happened, but I do want you to know that I'm here for you. And I know I'm not that cheesy, open kind of guy, but I want my players to be in the right frame of mind. Of course, I don't think Greenberg even has a right frame of mind, but that's not the point. Just know that you can talk to me."

Thomas nodded. "Thanks Coach, that means a lot. I-" Thomas stopped, his mouth hung open, as his gaze lingered on a picture on Coach's desk. He swallowed, and started, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. "Er, I- Coach?" he squeaked. "Um, Coach, who is that boy in that picture right there?" he said, pointing to the frame.

"Um, that's my nephew, Lincoln. He went missing a while ago, same as you. Why do you ask?"

The face flashed in his eyes. His round, chubby face when he smiled; his eyes when he worried about his parents; the vacancy in his face as the life left him. "I k-know him. When I was, er, gone, I met him. He went by a different name, though. I called him Chuck." Thomas stifled a sob. "I'm sorry, Coach. He, um, well- he died. I'm so sorry. He was my best friend, practically a little brother. H-he died sa-saving my life."

Coach stumbled backward, not sure what to do with this information. "I- okay, Stilinski. You may leave."

Thomas hesitated, not wanting to leave Coach, but he saw the tears forming in his eyes- it was the only time he'd every seen Coach anywhere near crying- so he turned around and left.

A/N: Hey guys, sorry it's been a while since I posted, but hope you all like this new chapter. I'm planning on writing a new piece soon, so if any of you like The Mortal Instruments and The Infernal Devices, keep your eyes open, because I'm about to post the first chapter. Have a good life!!