Dome → Isaac Lahey

0.3 : amber

Prelude to school the following morning, I decide to watch the lacrosse team practice. The boys were dressed in their red and white attire, lacrosse sticks in one hand, green water bottles in the other. Some were out on the field and others, such as Stiles, his friend, and Isaac, were sitting in the bottom bleachers. Some straggling students, such as myself, were spread out among them.

I wanted so badly to go down and talk to Stiles about what had happened yesterday, but being nosy is what got me in trouble in the first place. After the sheriff found us snooping, he sent us home, where I got the typical "Don't go running around woods and graveyards at night" talk. Piers was unbelievably livid about it all, making me dread my return home later today. It was best to just steer clear of them, like I had originally planned.

I look to my left and notice Isaac sitting alone, tying his cleats. His expression was tainted with sadness, making me frown. Almost involuntarily, my feet move me until I'm sitting next to him, concern plastered on my face.

"Hey.." I mutter. He must not have noticed me sit next to him before, because when he looks up, complete shock takes over him. He stutters for a few seconds with dime-eyes.

"H-hi," He finally gets out, a faint smile playing on his lips. "How are you? You know, after the.."

"I'm fine." I stop him, holding a hand out in front of me. He slowly nods and bites the inside of his cheek nervously.

"You know," I start shakily, "I probably would have died if you weren't there to keep me quiet. So.. I guess I just wanted to thank you for that. I owe you, big time."

He chuckles and shakes head, playing around with the helmet in his hands. "You're welcome, I guess."

"How are you?" I finally ask, and the smile on his face from his chuckle fades into a thin line.

"I'm fine." He shrugs, now looking down at his lacrosse stick, as if to avoid me. That's when I first noticed something strange.

I cock my head and run my fingertips along the top of his cheekbone, confused. "Your black eye is gone already.."

He opens his mouth to speak, a panicked look on his face. The boom of Coach's whistle conveniently cuts him off, causing the both of us to flinch.

"LET'S GO! LINE IT UP!" Finstock yelled at all his team. "MAKE DADDY PROUD!"

Isaac says nothing else to me. He hops off the bench and goes to take his place in the forming line, Buzz-cut's friend situating himself at the goal.

Finstock blows a whistle and tells them to get going. The first boy begins, ball in net, going full speed at Buzz-cut's friend. Instead of staying in the goal to block the shot, he strays from the goal and tackles the boy to the ground. As if that wasn't strange enough, I swear I saw him sniff him, but merely dismissed it as my eyes playing tricks on me.

"McCall! Usually the goalie stays within the vicinity of the GOAL!" Finstock exclaims angrily.

"Yes coach!" He yells back, running back to his place in the goal. Coach blows his whistle and the next player begins running, only to be tackled by McCall. Then again, with the sniffing. I knew it wasn't my eyes this time. What the hell?

Two more players go by like this, each being painfully bulldozed by McCall. Coach grabs the bars of Stiles' helmet, pulling him close. "Stilinski, what the hell is wrong with your friend?"

"Well sir, he's failing two classes, he's a little socially awkward, and if you look close enough, his jawline is a little uneven." Stiles replies. I squint my eyes at McCall. Huh, he's right.