Finstock // Teen Wolf

3. McCall

I wait for the locker room to boil down to just Scott and Stiles before walking out and blocking the door. They furrow their eyebrows at me.

"Don't worry boys, I just want to chat a little." I say.

"You're coach's daughter, Brittany isn't it?" Stiles says.

"Yeah, and you're Noah's son, Stiles and you're the infamous Scott McCall." I smirk at Scott. "But not entirely for lacrosse, even though the main fame that what made you good at lacrosse helps."

"What do you mean?" Scott asks. I smile.

"You know exactly what I mean Scott." I reply. Stiles and Scott share a look. "And I know all about you and your little friends too." They both gape at me wide eyed.

"How much do you know?" Stiles asks.

"I know about your friend, Lydia Martin, what do they call her again? The Banshee? Oh, and Kira Yukimura, the thunder kitsune. Malia Tate the werecoyote, the Hales, I know all about the nogitsune, the hunters, the darach, the alpha pack, Jackson Whittemore, what was he again? Kanima? Oh, and Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, they were all Derek's betas. Kate Argent, the werejaguar. And let's not forget who's the star of the show, Scott McCall, the boy who broke the Argents and took down Deucalion, you're not like the others Scotty, the true alpha." I reply with a smirk plastered on my face.

"How do you know that?" Scott gapes.

"Because I'm just like you." I make my eyes glow and deep red. "Only with more power." They gape at me and I switch my eyes back. "I'll see you around boys." I pat them both on the chest before walking back to the office, leaving them dumbfounded.

+++++

I grab a T-shirt and a pair of underwear and shorts before walking to my bathroom and taking my hair down. I take off my clothes and start my shower. The water rolls over my skin and I put my whole body under, my hair becoming completely soaked in a matter of seconds. I close my eyes and listen to what's going on outside.

"Wrap a towel around your hand and break the mirror. Use the glass to defend yourself. You have thirty seconds."

I open my eyes in horror and take a deep breath before continuing my shower. I grab the shampoo and start scrubbing my hair.

"I'm coming now, Sean." Glass shatters and I hear heavy breathing.

I scrub my head harder then rinse it out. I condition my hair then stub my body harshly. I rinse off and shut the water off before stepping out and looking in the mirror. My eyes glowing bright red, but nothing more. I squeeze my eyes shut then open them, hazel. I take a deep breath and dry off. I put on my clothes and brush my hair. I put it up into a bun and splash cold water onto my face. I take a small towel and pat my face dry. I hang both of my towels up and walk out to my room. I plop down onto the bed and cover up tightly. I put my head under the pillow and squeeze it tightly against my ears. I release it and slowly remove my head from the pillow whilst tears fill my eyes. I force them back and roll over so I'm facing the ceiling. I stare at the fan constantly spinning round until I slowly fall of into an abyss of sleep.

+++++

I wrap my arms around myself tightly before digging through my closet for clothes. I decide to go with black skinny jeans with rips in the knees and a gray sweatshirt. I get dressed and walk into the bathroom. I brush my teeth then take my hair down. I brush it before pulling to the side and fishtail braiding it. I apply a thin layer of makeup and leave the bathroom. I put on my black Nike shoes and grab my book bag and duffle bag before walking downstairs. I drop my bags on the couch then walk to the kitchen.

"Hey pumpkin, how'd you sleep?" Dad sips his coffee.

"Good, what about you?" I retort grabbing a pop tart.

"Great." He says. "We still have about fifteen minutes before we have to go anywhere. Have a seat, relax." I sit down across from him and fold my hands together.

"Who do you think is going to make tryouts?" I ask.

"Scott, Stiles, Liam, Garrett, there's a lot of em." He replies. "Oh, and Greenberg, I need someone to yell at." I smile at his comment.

"Yeah, he can play too, just he's not great, or terrible, but he's not great. He can play to an extent." I state.

"Yeah."