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The changing room was packed like a sardine can, and of course, I had to weave my way through it with my gear kit in tow.
The guys were all hyped up and ready for the game, with about 30 minutes to go before kickoff, and everyone was gearing up.
As I passed the lockers, there was Scott, sporting number 11, his crimson jersey hanging loosely as he geared up his knee.
I sidled up to him, and he shot me a half-hearted glance.
"Are you gonna try to talk me out of playing?" He asked through gritted teeth as he tightened his shoelaces.
"I'm just hoping you've got a clue what you're doing." I sighed, tossing my kit onto the bench beside him.
"If I don't play, I lose my spot on the first line." He retorted, calmly padding up alongside me.
"Scotty, it's just one game you don't really need to be in." I tried, making one last-ditch effort to convince him.
"I wanna play!" He snapped back.
"I wanna be on the team. Besides-" He stopped himself, his voice trailing off into silence with a tired sigh.
"Besides what?" I prodded, curious about what he was about to say.
"Besides, I think this could be my last chance to patch things up with Allison." He admitted.
"Scott?" I deadpanned.
"I know. I know!" Scott exclaimed before calming down. "But girls like popular guys, right? And the school team fits the bill."
He slumped onto the bench, falling silent and shaking his head with a defeated expression. "Stiles, I just want a semi-freaking-normal life. Do you get that?"
"Yeah." I nodded. "I get it."
I gave his back a reassuring pat as I stood up. "Just try not to stress too much out there, okay?"
He nodded.
"Or lose your temper." I added.
"I got it." He muttered back.
"Or get anxious."
"Yeah, I got it."
"Don't dwell on your mom being in the stands." I continued, not stopping at that.
"Or Allison. Or that her dad wants to off you. Or that Derek's out for your blood. Or the girl he killed, or the possibility of you taking a life." I listed off, watching as Scott slowly turned towards me with widened eyes. "Unless a hunter gets to you first. Sorry, I'll stop."
He nodded as he shook his head.
"Good luck." I said before walking away.
He's gonna need a boatload of that tonight.
—-----
"Wooohhh!! Go Pumas!!!"
Our school's cheering section erupted in support of the Beacon Pumas as we took to the field.
The starting lineup boasted a few familiar faces: Jackson as the captain, Danny, Isaac, and the rest. And there were a couple of new additions this year. Scott was in for the first half, while I was warming the bench for the second, and, surprisingly, even Greenberg made the cut.
As Scott and I jogged towards the bench, we spotted Scott's mom, Melissa, waving to him.
I scanned the crowd, half-hoping to catch sight of a certain someone, but after a moment, I sighed in resignation. My dad wasn't in the stands yet, probably got tied up with work. Not the first time. Guess I've got nobody rooting for me tonight.
"Stiley!!" My head snapped up as I heard a familiar voice.
"Stiley!!" My eyes shot up to the top stands, where Amber was waving like a maniac. Tara, on the other hand, did a brief hand wave before returning to her silence.
Oh, look who's cheering for me. Totally forgot about those two.
"Go Stiley!!" Amber shouted again, giving zero shits about the odd glances she was getting.
"Well, looks like someone's got a—oh, crap." Scott's stride came to a screeching halt, his words trailing off as he zeroed in on the stands.
"Someone's got a what?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in mock amusement. But he just stood there, as still as a statue, eyes fixed on one spot.
Following his gaze, I couldn't help but curse inwardly.
"Well shit." I groaned, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Front and center, we've got Lydia in her eye-searing pink coat, and next to her is Allison, she was wearing a long purple coat waving in the air, gracefully matching the moments of her long brown hair.
Well, well, well. Who'd have thought Allison would grace us with her presence? Let's just pray it doesn't turn this night into a soap opera.
But who am I kidding? Drama's practically guaranteed tonight.
"Scott!" I blinked as Lydia made a beeline for us.
She pulled him close, giving him the death stare.
"I just want you to remember one thing tonight." She said, all serious-like.
"Uh..." Scott stumbled, trying to come up with something. "Winning isn't everything?"
Lydia chuckled, then gave Scott's jersey a patronizing brush.
"Nobody likes a loser." She quipped, patting him on the back before strutting off.
I plopped down on the bench, Coach on one side and Jackson on the other.
"How's the shoulder?" Finstock asked Jackson.
"It's fine." Jackson replied with a nonchalant shrug.
"Feeling any pain?"
"No." Jackson shook his head, playing it cool.
"What if I gave it a good old punch?" Coach joked, balling up his fist. "Would you feel anything then?"
"Maybe."
"Listen, just get out there and do your thing. If it starts hurting, just... uh… just-?" Coach trailed off, waiting for Jackson to finish his thought.
"Just keep playing?" Jackson offered in doubt.
"That's my boy!" Coach said, beaming with pride.
{Whistle!!!}
The referee blew the whistle, signaling the start of the match. Both teams dashed onto the field.
"Please, let this go smoothly." I heard Scott mutter from his spot.
"Hey, kid." I jolted as I heard my dad's voice.
"Hey." I replied.
"So, think you'll get some action tonight?" He asked eagerly.
"Action?" I smirked. "Oh, I'm counting on it."
"Set!" the referee shouted.
Both teams' forwards crouched down to seize the ball.
The whistle blew again, kicking off the season's match.
Jackson immediately charged for the ball and snagged it with his stick.
The crowd erupted in cheers as Jackson skillfully dribbled past two defenders.
But despite Jackson's efforts to advance, defenders blocked his path, leaving Scott the only clear option.
Jackson passed to Isaac, who managed to evade a tight spot before sending it to Kenny, whose timing was off, resulting in a missed catch.
"Damn." I muttered.
Jackson and Scott raced for the ball, both reaching it at the same time.
Jackson shoved Scott aside and nabbed the ball, causing Scott to grunt as he hit the turf while Jackson made a run for the goal.
With a swift motion, Jackson lobbed the ball into the goal, scoring a point for the home team.
"Yeah!!!" The crowd erupted in cheers.
"Way to go, Jackson! Keep the momentum!" Coach shouted from the sidelines.
"Fantastic."
While the team celebrated Jackson's goal, Scott glared at the bench, his eyes twitching. I glanced over to see what caught his attention.
Lydia and Allison held up a sign that read 'We Luv U Jackson.'
"Brutal." I winced.
Scott shook his head with a grumble and stomped back to his position.
"This isn't going to end well."
As Scott resumed his position, the team regrouped for a discussion, with Jackson giving orders.
"Pass only to me, got it!" Jackson commanded.
"But what if he's open?" Greenberg asked awkwardly.
"Who's the captain here? Me or you?" Jackson retorted.
"Come on, Jackson, I just want to win." Isaac added.
"We will win, but. What did I say?!" Jackson snapped.
"Don't pass to McCall."
Jackson patted Greenberg on the back before they dispersed to their positions.
I heard Scott grip his stick tightly, his breath turning into a low growl.
"Oh boy." I muttered nervously, but thankfully, nothing eventful happened during the first half.
We managed to hold the other team off, and they had beefed up their defense.
The first half came to an end with one for nil.
"Stilinski!" Coach bellowed, and I jumped to my feet. He hurried over with a grin, gripping my shoulders.
"Go out there and get me the goals and keep em coming!" He said.
I smirked as I stepped onto the field.
"Aye-Aye, Coach."