Have you ever woken up DEAD? Well I did... when I was eight years old I woke up in my bed covered in blood. I found my mother, father, and baby sister all dead in their sleep. Soaked in blood. From then on I felt like death. Everyone around me dies...
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BACK on the field, Stiles nervously chews at the laces on his lacrosse stick. He whirls around when Luna comes walking back to join the practice.
"Hey have you seen Scott?"
Stiles watches Luna jump and stare at him with wide eyes, "Who? Scott? Oh... ha ha nope haven't seen him. I gotta go... be elsewhere... bye."
Stiles frowns watching Luna run away from him.
'That was weird.' He mutters to himself.
Minutes later Scott finally makes his way into the field, making Stiles hurry towards him in anticipation and hopefulness.
"Hey. What happened?"
Scott turns back, Stiles's request seemingly forgotten, "What?"
"What do you mean what? Did you ask her? Did she say anything? Did she say she liked me? Imply she liked me?"
Scott nods, "Yeah. Yeah, she likes you. In fact, she's totally into you."
As Scott turns away, an elated Stiles never notices the ever darkening expression falling over his best friend's face. Luna grips a cup so tight in her hand that the water explodes everywhere.
"Hey Tate let's not waste all the low budget waste of materials that this shit school has left."
Luna nods at Coach as he walks away.
She couldn't believe her ears. Scott had not only lied to Stiles but instead of asking Lydia if she was interested in Stiles, made out with her. That wolf had some nerves.
Coach blows the whistle sending the first offensive player into a drill. Scott and Stiles wait in line for their turn.
"Are you okay, dude?"
Scott doesn't answer, gloves twisting around his stick.
"I know we had good news and all that, but it's seven hours left till the full moon-"
The whistle blows for the next play.
Scott's turn.
Coach tosses the ball and Scott goes for it. Moving fast, twisting his stick to keep the ball in tight. Two players collide with Scott, ramming into him with unwarranted brutality. He tumbles to the ground, stick clattering away from him.
Coach claps laughing, "I guess some people don't appreciate your new status, McCall."
Behind the lineup of other players, Stiles looks out to see Scott snap right back up to his feet in an acrobatic kip up. Luna curses as she wrings her hands together.
"Next!"
But before another player can step forward, Scott whips his lacrosse stick in front of him. Teeth bared underneath his helmet, he steps to the head of the line again.
