Lunatics ➳ Derek Hale/Teen Wolf [1]

16. sour wolf

Disclaimer: I do NOT own any parts of Teen Wolf or its plot or characters. I do not own Derek Hale. However I do own Skylar McCall and some of the things that come along with her plot (Like Harv & Kelly's, etc.).

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     Of all the things I could possibly critique the public education system for, the thing I tend to question the most is why the hell Coach Finstock is allowed to teach anything other than lacrosse. He is a damn good lacrosse coach—he knows exactly how to whip those boys into shape—but he treats his students inside the classroom the same way, which proves to be less than effective. Belittling us, yelling at us, embarrassing us.

Unfortunately, the student body has no say on the topic, so halfway through my school day I shuffle into my economics class taught by the one and only.

"Let's go! Sit, sit, sit!" Coach urges the class impatiently as we enter. Scott sits in his usual spot, and Allison swoops in and steals the one right behind him before Stiles or I could stop her. So much for avoiding her. We plop down in two seats a row away from them, watching the inevitable catastrophe unfold.

"Hey." She taps on Scott's shoulder with her pencil and he turns around with a tight smile.

"Hey."

"I haven't seen you all day. You gotta get your phone fixed, I feel like I'm totally disconnected from you."

Stiles and I eavesdrop from our own seats, occasionally making eye contact to share an eye roll or an expression of surprise. Allison invited him over for dinner tonight, and the two of us exchange a look: Scott better find a way out of that one.

Tired of the whispers, Coach abruptly slams the class textbook down on his desk, the loud smack making me and several others jump in surprise. "Let's settle down. Let's start with a quick summary of last night's reading." A few willing hands go up and Coach's gaze brushes past them, searching for someone he knows probably didn't do the reading. "Greenberg, put your hand down. Everyone knows you did the reading. How about McCall?"

"Which one, sir?" I ask. Coach looks down at me with a scowl.

"I forgot there's two of you," he says, as if the thought of two McCalls walking this earth is disgusting to him. His eyes flicker back to Scott and he points a finger at him. "McCall number one."

"Why am I number two?" I lean against my desk, being ignored by Coach.

"The reading, McCall number one," he says encouragingly when Scott doesn't answer.