Dome → Isaac Lahey

0.7 : truth

In a surprising turn of events, Derek didn't make me sit in the car all night. No- Instead, I got to sit in the oh-so comfortable bleachers of Beacon Hills High School to watch the game. It wasn't the job I wanted; it wasn't even a job, but it was sure as hell more interesting than sitting in a Camaro for hours. Boyd and Erica sat at the top of the bleachers, while I sat in the front nearest to the benched players, trying my best to blend in.

"Come on! Is that thing even a teenager?!" Finstock yells, watching as one of his players was bulldozed to the ground by an opposing player. "I want to see a birth certificate!"

He sits next to Stiles, who was sat on the bench directly in front of me. "Who or what is that genetic experiment out there?"

Stiles huffs, "Eddie Abamawich, coach. They call him the 'Abamination'."

"Oh that's cute." Coach grumbles sarcastically. I stifle a giggle and return my attention to the game.

Scott and Jackson were huddled together in a part of the field, clearly arguing over something. Werewolf hearing would have been great right about now, but unfortunately, that wasn't one of the perks I had been granted.

The game starts back up, and to nobody's surprise, another student is bulldozed, so badly this time that they had to be taken off on a stretcher. Jesus christ. 

"Is this game always this violent?" An old man says behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see him, the man I recognized at the ceremony, and Allison sitting together. Stiles begins to pass by, but not before Allison drops something into his hands discretely before he takes off running. A set of keys. I smirk to myself slyly; this night was going to be eventful.

▲▼

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Coach questions Danny, holding up two fingers in front of him.

"Four?"

"Say two."

"T-two?"

"Perfect," He practically throws Danny off the bench, "Get out there. Go. Have a stick!" He throws his stick at him, making him lose balance and almost fall again, but a teammate helped him to his feet. I roll my eyes. This team was an absolute mess, maybe staying in the Camaro would have at least saved me from cringing so much.

"You're still short one player, coach!" A ref yells, and coach groans loudly.

"Where's Stilinski?" He looks around avidly, "Where the hell is Stilinski!?"

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees with an amused smile on my face. He glances around the bleachers, a pointed finger in front of him, searching, until he lands on . . Boyd.

"You!" He yells, getting both his and Erica's attention. "You! You play lacrosse?"

I narrow my eyes at him as he begins to stand up and Erica grabs onto his wrist, whispering something sharply to him. He retorts something with a smirk and shoots up, removing his jacket and running down the stairs to meet an excited coach. Great, now I would have to keep an eye on Boyd whenever Erica and Derek decide to carry the plan out. 

So far, Boyd was doing okay. Well- He hadn't gone haywire and killed everyone on the field, so I just assumed he was okay. But that was until a small player from the Beavers charged at him. Boyd didn't even have to move. When the player ran into him, he was reflected backwards, landing on his back with a thud. I wince, my knee bouncing nervously. Everyone around me stood up and began cheering for him.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Coach yells, punching a fist up in the air. "The bigger they are . . The bigger, they, ARE!"

It was fairly safe to say coach was losing his mind.