Sage ▸ Stiles Stilinski [Book One]

37.

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THIRTY SEVEN. 

        "I've got to meet with the medical examiner to try and figure out what happened with Jackson, uh, I've got an APB out on Stiles. His jeep is still in the parking lot so that means... ah, hell, I don't know what that means. I—uh, look, if he answers his phone, if he answers his emails, if any of you see him—" Sheriff Stilinski's voice was wavering as he spoke, barely capable of processing a coherent sentence through his lips without breaking down. 

        Scott and Isaac stared at Sheriff with sullen looks on their face. To their surprise, it wasn't either of them that assured the father of the missing boy, it was the girlfriend. Sage, from her place on the bench directly next to Isaac's side, looked up at the Sheriff and grabbed his hand. "We'll call you. I promise." 

        Sheriff stared at her for a few seconds, her hair a tangled mess from how much she pulled and tugged at it, trying to find Stiles. The makeup that she was once wearing was now dried up on the sides of her eyes, making her look more like a clown or zombie than an actual human. She was taking the situation just as hard as the Sheriff was, the two going out of their mind. The only difference was Sage knew who took Stiles. Gerard had been meaning to take him this whole time, and she never realized it up until now. 

        "Look, he's probably just freaked out from all the attention or something. We'll find him," Scott said, doing his best to assure the Sheriff. He moved to place a hand on Sage's shoulders, squeezing it in comfort. He didn't bother asking why she screamed out on the field, he didn't even want to begin to imagine what she went through when Jackson died. 

        "Yeah," the Sheriff agreed, although his voice was nowhere near convincing. "I'll see you, okay?"

        He gave the group of teenagers a nod, sending a small smile towards Sage in hopes that it would give her some sort of comfort. She only nodded and got up from the bench, rubbing at the black smudges under her eyes. Scott looked at her in concern. "Are you okay?" 

        "Yeah," Sage said, her voice cracking at the end. She winced, shaking her head as she moved towards the mirrors that were to the right of her. When her hands met the water, she quickly drenched her face with it, trying to get off the traces of eyeliner and mascara. She wasn't gone twenty seconds before another person was coming up to Scott. That's all that's been happening, from players on the opposing team to players on the same team. 

        Coach Finstock barely looked at her when she came back from the sinks, only just beginning his speech to Scott. "McCall, we need you on the team. You know I can't put you on the field next season if you don't get your grades up." 

        "Yeah, I know, Coach," Scott replied, his eyebrows furring as he wondered how relevant this conversation was with all that is happening around them. Sage glanced over at Isaac, and he quirked a brow her way as if asking the same thing Scott was. They all wondered if this whole thing was just about Coach's need to win a game now that one of his star players just died an hour ago. 

        "I mean, I know I yell a lot, but it's not like I hate you guys. Well, I kind of hate Greenburg, but that's Greenburg. I'm just saying we... I need you on the team. Get your grades back up," Coach Finstock ordered. 

        Scott nodded, trying his best to get Coach to leave them alone. "I will." 

        As soon as Coach finally did leave, Sage let out a huff in relief. "I don't see how it's even relevant for people to come up saying, "I'm sorry for your loss," when they don't even know the half of it. But Coach, Coach is being realistic in this situation and thinking ahead about what his team is going to be like now that one of his captains is dead."