competition, allison argent

xv. ice pick

The rock climbing wall looms tall and imposing, a challenge set before the students of Beacon Hills High School. Coach Finstock's voice cuts through the air, calling out the next two participants. "All right, next two. Stilinski. Erica. Let's go."

Stiles steps up with his usual blend of nervous energy and determination, positioning himself beside Erica Reyes. Erica, a girl who often fades into the background, looks particularly uneasy today, her anxiety almost palpable. Her hair, usually a bit disheveled, seems to mirror her frayed nerves.

As they begin their ascent, Stiles scales the wall with surprising agility, his movements quick and sure. Erica, however, moves at a markedly slower pace, each movement seeming to require a monumental effort. She looks like she's fighting against more than just gravity.

Down below, Cody and Allison stand amongst their classmates, trying to maintain a low profile. Unnoticed by them, Jackson watches from the back, his expression dark and brooding.

Stiles makes it back down to the mats with relative ease, but all eyes quickly turn to Erica, still clinging to the wall. She's stopped moving altogether, her fingers white-knuckled against the holds.

"Erica? You okay? Dizzy? Vertigo?" Coach Finstock calls up, concern evident in his voice.

Lydia, next in line, rolls her eyes and heaves a sigh. "Vertigo's a dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear. She's just freaking out," she comments, her tone a mix of irritation and superiority. It's clear she's no longer interested in hiding her intellect.

"Erica!" the coach calls again, more urgently this time.

"I'm fine," Erica's voice is barely audible, her gaze fixed on some point above her.

Allison steps forward, her voice laced with concern. "Coach, maybe it's not safe. You know she's epileptic."

Coach Finstock's eyes widen in surprise. "She is? Why the hell doesn't anyone tell me these things?"

Cody glances at Allison, disbelief and a hint of dark humor in his expression. "Right, because it's not like he's the teacher or anything," he murmurs under his breath, drawing a soft chuckle from Allison.

Coach tries again to coax Erica down. "Erica, you're good. Push off. I'll ease you down." But Erica remains frozen, her eyes squeezed shut, her whole body rigid with fear. Scott, ever the one to jump in and help, steps forward. "Erica, just let go, there's a mat to catch you!"

Finally, with a deep breath, Erica lets go, pushing off from the wall. She swings out, her hands flailing for the safety line. Coach Finstock grapples with the cord, managing to bring her down slowly but safely. When her feet touch the mat, she turns to face the crowd, their stares filled with a mix of curiosity and pity.

"That's it, Erica. Shake it off," the coach encourages her, but a few snickers ripple through the crowd, sending Erica scurrying back into the safety of obscurity.

As she passes by, Cody offers her a small, empathetic smile, an unspoken show of support. Scott watches her walk away, his expression one of sorrow and understanding. Lydia then steps up to take her turn, her confidence a stark contrast to Erica's vulnerability.

🍃

The clamor of the final bell echoes through the halls of Beacon Hills High School, signaling the end of another school day. Students pour out of the classrooms, a torrent of chatter and laughter flooding the corridors. Jackson, with his usual air of entitlement, cuts through the crowd, making a beeline for Lydia.