Burn It Down || Stilinski || Book One

Twenty-Three

LATER THAT DAY at lunch, Stiles sat down at a table in the back of the cafeteria, trying to look inconspicuous. In order for his plans for tonight to work, he needed to talk to Vernon Boyd, who was always by himself and who also worked at the ice rink in town. Stiles nodded his head to his classmate, and Boyd stared at him weirdly. "You got the keys?" Stiles questioned with his backpack still on his shoulder.

The buff, dark-skinned student pulled out what Stiles asked, dangling them between his fingers. Stiles grinned and went to take the keys, but Boyd wouldn't let go. "It's not a favor," he reminded the spastic sophomore. "It's a transaction."

Stiles nodded again, "Absolutely." He reached into his pocket and then quietly slammed his hand on the table, revealing a twenty dollar bill.

"I said fifty."

"I remember twenty," Stiles disagreed. He knew the price the guy had set, but he did need some money for gas and stuff. "In fact, I remember that distinct twa sound, "twa-enty."

"I said fifty," Boyd repeated in annoyance after he rolled his eyes. "With a fa sound. Hear the difference?" He leaned forward slightly with them narrowed. "If not, I can demonstrate some other words with that sound."

Stiles gulped, "N-no I'm recalling it." He let out an exasperated sigh once Boyd wouldn't even accept forty dollars and simply ate a Dorito with a blank expression.

"Come on, man, have you seen the crappy jeep I drive?"

"Have you seen the piece of crap bus I take?" Boyd retorted wittily and watched as Stiles dug through his pockets for another ten. Once he placed it on the table, Boyd's frown turned upside down and Stiles just pursed his lips, slightly frustrated he couldn't get the keys cheaper.