Ten

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Scott's POV:

The game finished and I searched around for Stiles and Lyssa in the school hallway. It was weird. They were usually here. They weren't even in the school. Strange. Where could they be? "Stiles. Stiles! Has anyone seen Stiles or Alyssa? Stiles! Has anyone seen Stiles?"

Allison bumped into me and smiled. "Uh, you were--pretty awesome out there."

I returned her smile. "Thanks. You too. I mean, that's not what I meant."

She gave a small laugh. "No, no, I did some pretty awesome cheering. You can thank me."

"You did?"

"Totally. I went from, "go, team, go," to "defense, defense," without a--a breath. I brought my A game."

Our moment was interrupted by a lacrosse player cheering, "State, state, state, state--"

Allison and I glared at him, causing him to shut up and walk away. To my luck, Jackson came walking up as Allison left. "Oh, isn't that just heartbreaking? Gosh, I bet it causes a lot of sleepless nights. You know what, though, McCall? I actually sympathize, which is why I'm gonna make this mutually beneficial. You give me what I want, and, uh, I'll help you get her back."

Somehow, this seemed to be too good to be true. "What?"

Jackson shrugged. "Well, three days makes it just in time for the winter formal. Uh, think about you taking her instead of me. And also think about all the things you have to do to get her out of some little tight dress by the end of the night. See how this could work out for everybody? Three days, McCall. Have fun."

When Jackson left, Danny walked up. Seriously; how many people were going to interrupt me tonight? "By the way, McCall, apology accepted."

"I didn't apologize," I replied in a confused tone.

Danny nodded. "Every time you got the ball tonight, you passed it to me."

"Everytime I passed the ball to you, you scored," I shot back.

"Apology accepted," Danny said again.

I glanced at a message from Stiles.

From: Stiles

Peter, Derek's uncle, is the Alpha that bit you. He's a creepy dude with floppy hair. Used to be catatonic.

He walked off and it was eerily quiet all of a sudden. "Danny? What the hell--thank God! Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea what's been going on?"

Peter appeared, followed by Derek. Peter picked up a stick. "I really don't get lacrosse."

"It was you--" I began.

He cut me off. "When I was in high school, we played basketball. There's a real sport. Still, I read somewhere that lacrosse comes from native American tribes and that they played it to resolve conflict. I have that right? Hm. I have a little conflict to resolve, Scott. But I need your help to do it."

"I'm not helping you kill people," I retorted in a low voice.

"Well, I don't want to kill all of them. Just the responsible ones. And that doesn't have to include--"

"Allison," Derek said.

It was then I realized that Derek was working with Peter. "You're on his side? Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?"

Derek shrugged. "It was a mistake."

"What?"

"It happens."

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