Orange Eyes (Teen Wolf/Derek Hale)

Chapter 4

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Second Chapter of the day. Thanks for reading. No A/N after this one though. Thanks for reading and remember to have a good Halloween!

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McKenzie's P.O.V

Stiles and I had been sitting in detention for 59 minutes now, and I couldn't get one thing off my mind. What did Derek mean when he said that Jackson's body is rejecting the bite? How is that possible? Why is it doing it? Can we stop his body from rejecting it? Stiles was staring at the clock, waiting for this dreaded detention to be over. Counting down the seconds in my head, I waited for it to have been an hour.

3... 2... 1...

"Sit," Harris' voice was suddenly heard.

"But it's been an hour," Stiles pointed out. I nodded, agreeing with him.

"My detentions an hour and a half," the stupid man said, not even looking up from grading the stack of papers on his desk.

"You can't do that," Stiles argued.

"Oh – but I can. You see, Stiles, since your father was so judicious in his dealings with me, I've decided to make you my personal project for the rest of the semester. You are going to benefit from all the best that strict discipline has to offer. Now – sit down, before I decide to keep you here all night."

"Why am I here, then?" I asked.

"Because you are best friends with this idiot, not I suggest you sit down too."

I sat down and pulled out my phone, texting Derek. Not that I was expecting a reply, he hasn't replied to my texts for a week. Oh well.

"C'mon Stiles!" I shouted. I ran behind a tree, took my clothes off and shifted. I walked out from behind the tree and gave Stiles my backpack with my clothes in it. I bent down for him to get on. He looked a bit dubious at first, but then muttered a 'what the hell' and swung one leg over before adjusting himself so he was comfortable. I slowly got up before taking off running towards the cemetery. Stiles clung on to me, and in no time, we were there. He slowly slid off and left me my backpack. I went behind a tree and shifted, grabbing my baggy, black batman tank top, black skinnies, black high-top converse and Scott's black varsity jacket. I pushed the sleeves up to my elbows before walking up to Stiles and Scott and crouching behind them.

"Yo. Who the hell is that?" I asked the guys, pointing to a balding man who looks around sixty. He was walking as if he owned the place, flanked by two body guards. I watched as he broke someone's memory card from their camera.

"He's definitely an Argent," Scott stated.

"Hey, you know, maybe they're just here for the funeral. I mean – what if they're a non-hunting side of the family? There could be non-hunting Argents. It's possible, right?" Stiles tried to comfort us.

"I know what they are. They're reinforcements," I stated. Suddenly, Stiles and Scott were dragged up from our hiding place and another person dragged me to my feet.

"Ah. The three of you. Unbelievable. Pick up my tie," Sheriff Stilinski told Stiles.

"Got it. Sorry. I know, I'm supposed to ask," Stiles spoke, obviously talking about the tie. We were led to a police car, and I was sat in the middle of Stiles and Scott in the backseat. Suddenly, the radio blared to life.

"4 – 1 – 5 Adam."

"I didn't copy that. Did you say 4 – 1 – 5 Adam?" The sheriff spoke into the radio.