Waves // Teen Wolf

Chapter 8

~Scott's POV~

"What do you mean, you can't play the game tomorrow night?" Coach questioned.

"I mean I can't play the game tomorrow night," I answered.

I stood inside Coach Finstock's office trying to tell him that I couldn't play the gane tomorrow but he was not taking no for an answer.
"You can't wait to play the game tomorrow," Finstock declared.
I sighed. "No, Coach, I cant play the game tomorrow night."
"I'm not following," Coach stated.

"I'm having some... personal issues," I replied, which really was true.
"Is it a girl?"
"No," I answered.

"Is it a guy?" Coach Finstock queried. "You know our goalie, Danny, is gay."
"Yeah, I know Coach, but its not that," I admitted.

"You don't think Danny's a good-lookin' guy?" Coach asked.

"I think he's good-looking.I-but I-I like girls," I stuttered, unsure of where this conversation was going.

"And that's not it anyway. I-"

"What, is it drugs? Are you doing meth?" Coach demanded.
My eyes widened.

"Because I had a brother who was addicted to meth," Coach addressed.
How did this conversation happen?

"You should've seen what it did to his teeth; they were all cracked and rotted," Coach Finstock announced.
"It was-It was disgusting."

"What happened to him?" I asked curiously.
"He got veneers," Coach noted, then something clicked in his eyes.
"Is-is that what this is about? Are you afraid of getting hurt, McCall?" He exclaimed.

"No, I'm having some issues dealing with aggression," I confessed.
"Well, here's the good news," Coach offered. "That's why you play lacrosse. Problem solved."

"Coach, I can't play the game tomorrow night," I moaned.
"Listen, McCall," Coach began. "Part of playing first line is taking on the responsibility of being first line. Now, if you can't shoulder that responsibility, then you're back on the bench until you're ready."

"If I don't play the game, you're taking me off first line?" I gasped.
"McCall, play the game. Slide it up and half-asleep."
I sighed before leaving the room.

What am I supposed to do? I could play tomorrow and possibly kill someone, or I could play it safe and lose my position as first line. Why is life so complicated?

I walked through the hallway still debating whether or not to play.

What would Blake do?

She would probably tell me to not give up on my dream, unless it meant sticking your claws into someone's neck.

"Hey."

I smiled as I noticed Alisson coming down the stairs. "Hey," I grinned.
"Busy?" She asked.

"No, no, it's just, uh, my mom, she's nothing," I stuttered and my eyes widened as I realised what I said. "I mean, it's nothing. Uh, I'm never busy for you."
That sounded better.

"I like the sound of that," Alisson smiled. "I have to run to French class, but I wanted you to know that I'm coming to see you play tomorrow."
"You are?" I asked worryingly.

"And we're all going out afterwards. You, me, Lydia, Jackson," Alisson answered. "It's gonna be great."

All I could do was stare at her in shock.

"Uh, save me a seat at lunch. I gotta go."

And with that, she was gone.
"Oh, God," I groaned.