Black Water ↠ Stiles Stilinski [Teen Wolf, Vol. One]

The Devil You Know

Disclaimer: 'Teen Wolf' isn't mine. Shocking, right? But it's true. If there are any similarities in content or dialogue, it has probably originated with the show.

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Chapter 20 - The Devil You Know

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Mr. Allen was hungover.

Shades were drawn across the window looking onto the lacrosse field. The whites of his eyes were lined like a porcelain mug dropped, then hastily glued back together. As he wheezed his breath had the stale, musty quality of air rushing out of a recently opened tomb. Sunglasses sat atop a disheveled head of hair, ready to guard his eyes from the oppressive gleam of fluorescent lights.

Allison and Charlie made their way to their seats in the back corner of the room, well out of the range of the day-old vodka cloud that oozed out of Mr. Allen's pores. Allison wrinkled her nose in distaste as she dropped her bag to the floor. "Do you think he thinks we can't tell? He looks like my Aunt Kate the day after her birthday. She ate three grilled cheeses before she even got out of bed."

The shiver down Charlie's spine at the mention of Kate was forced still. Instead she fixed her eyes on Mr. Allen, who leaned back in his desk chair till he was effectively horizontal. "Are we sure he's gotten out of bed?"

Allison poked her head up. "Can't say for sure. But he does look pretty cozy."

"Five bucks says we're going to be watching a video today."

"Hm," Allison mused. "I mean the odds on my end of that bet are pretty shitty, but in the interest of sportsmanship, sure. I'll take that action."

The pair waited with baited breath while the room filled. The last student trudged into the class. The door closed. Allison and Charlie exchanged a glance in anticipation..... Mr. Allen hauled himself out of his chair, sauntered to the wall, and flicked off the lights. Charlie reached out a hand to Allison. "That's it, pay up."

"Whoa, hold on a second," Allison hissed. "We don't know that means we're watching a movie. He could be setting up a powerpoint."

"Grasping at straws, Allison. You're grasping at straws."

The classroom cabinet swung open. Mr. Allen disappeared behind the door for a few moments. When he reappeared, the AV cart followed him, a busted CRT television perched on top. Allison swore under her breath. "Okay, double or nothing. Which one is he going for this time—Saving Private Ryan or The Great Escape?"

Charlie pursed her lips in consideration and narrowed her eyes at Mr. Allen. Pleated khaki pants. Rumpled collared shirt. Old baseball cap on his desk. "We watched Saving Private Ryanlast time, but he looks like a Spielberg fanboy. I'm gonna say we're having a double feature. Saving Private Ryan. Double or nothing."

"You sure about that?"

Mr. Allen yanked the cart to the front of the class, locked the wheels, and leaned against the rusted metal. "Okay youths, today we will be taking a break from molding your brains and give you a little cultural perspective on World War II." He lifted a battered VHS case in the air. "The Great Escape. I know you aren't used to watching anything from before the invention of green screen—"

"Has he totally forgotten that he's already made us watch this twice?" Allison whispered. "Also, you owe me five dollars." Mr. Allen's dull drone drowned out Charlie's responding snort.

"—but today you will enjoy a marvelous entry into the cinematic opus. You guys like prison break movies, right? That show lasted like...five years? Anyways, here we go. I expect complete silence."