Argentine | Stiles Stilinski (Book 1)

Chapter Sixteen: Shape Shifted

Derek and I were talking in his hideout, until someone approached us. 'Derek?' it was Isaac, he sprinted down the stairs, his voice full of fear, 'Derek!"

I frowned in concern, making my way up to him, 'Isaac, what's wrong?'

'My dad, I think he's dead.'

I turned, seeing Derek step out of the shadows as his eyes faded from red to green. 'What did you do?'

'That's the thing,' Isaac said, trembling, 'It wasn't me.'

'O-okay. First things first, take a seat. You're shaking like a leaf!' I helped him to one of the seats on the derelict train, sitting next to him and clutching his hands in mine. 'Tell us everything.'

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Allison, Lydia and I walked together up the school steps discussing the days that Lydia spent in the woods. 'You really don't remember anything?' I asked her.

'They called it a fugue state, which is basically a way of saying "We have no idea why you can't remember running through the woods naked for two days." But personally, I don't care. I lost nine pounds!' we chuckled.

Allison sighed, 'Are you ready for this?'

'Please,' Lydia scoffed, 'It's not like my aunt's a serial killer.' She entered the school, leaving both of us a little dazed for a second before we followed her in.

Everyone froze as Lydia entered, staring at her in curiosity. I could sense how anxious she felt, so I leant in and whispered' Maybe it's the nine pounds.' Lydia seemed to like this and prepared herself for a moment, flicking her hair out of her face before strutting away, ignoring the others.

I was sat on the bleachers, watching lacrosse practise. Or, more specifically, watching Isaac to make sure that he was alright. Coach Finstock blew the whistle and the drill began. I frowned, fairly certain that the goalie was supposed to stay in the goal. Scott rushed forwards, tackling the other player to the ground and sniffing him. I saw Coach pull Stiles towards him by his helmet, 'Stilinski, what the hell is wrong with your friend?'

'Uh, he's failing two classes, he's a little socially awkward and if you look close enough, his jawline's kind of uneven.'

Coach frowned, focusing a little more on Scott. 'That's interesting,' he muttered before walking away.

Isaac was up next and I watched him in concern, he was breathing very heavily and glaring at Scott. They ran towards each other and Scott threw him to the ground. They stared at each other for a moment, eyes glowing. I heard a radio and looked up in shock, the police had come. Isaac looked directly at Scott, 'Don't tell them,' he begged, 'Please don't tell them.'

I rushed forwards but Scott pulled me back, 'Did you know about this? Did you know about his father?' he asked me.

I looked at him and answered slowly, so that he knew I was telling the truth, 'Yes, I knew. No, it wasn't him. I don't know who did it,' he nodded.

'Are they saying he's a suspect?' Stiles asked.

Scott paused, 'I'm not sure, why?'

'Because they can lock him in a holding cell for 24 hours.'

'Like overnight?'

'During the full moon,' I gasped in realisation, 'How good are those cells at holding people?'

'People, good. Werewolves, probably not that good.'

Scott frowned, 'Stiles, remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?'