"A little higher, Stiles..." Scott grunted as he tried to get a better look over the steel fence that blocked the lacrosse field from the parking lot. "I can almost reach the top of the fence!"
"Really? Because right now you're standing on my head, and as far as I'm concerned, most people's skulls weren't meant to withstand their best friend's body weight!" Stiles yelped as Scott bounced on his head and landed on the other side of the fence. "Awesome. You made it. Now unlock the gate."
Scott paused and looked at him. "Does it look like I carry the freaking key around with me? You'll have to wait here while I grab my equipment. I can't believe I forgot it here..."
"Yeah, me either. You're hardly ever scatterbrained. It's not like you at all..." Stiles rolled his eyes. "I'll keep watch like I always do. Hey! You're lucky I cover your ass. My dad is the sheriff. I could have you thrown in the gallows."
"This isn't Pirates of the Caribbean, Stiles. Now wait here. I'll be back in a few," Scott raced towards the entrance of the gym, which amazingly was wide open and light shone out from the gymnasium.
Stiles breathed into his hands to warm them up and glanced around the parking lot. His jeep was a monster compared to the other student's vehicles. It made the most noise every morning and looked like it could eat the other cars for breakfast. Then again, his family wasn't as rich and fancy like the Whittemores. He had heard the Jackson had gotten a brand new Porsche for his 16th birthday not long ago. He chuckled at this, betting his entire piggy bank that the cocky bastard would have that car ruined within the next two weeks or so. Or better yet, the thought of keying the idiot's car...
He grinned and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, eying the parking lot closely. He saw a set of headlights make a turn into the lot and he immediately recognized the blue and red lights on the roof of the car. His dad's police car.
"Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-" Stiles scrambled around. looking for a place to duck and cover and settled with the bushes surrounding the parking lot. As he dove into them, he could hear a car door opening and closing, and a flashlight being shone around the lot. He breathed deeply, thankful that he parked his jeep away from the school and away from careful eyes like his father's. The sheriff would kill him if he got busted tonight.
"Stay in the school, Scott...stay in the school..." Stiles whispered, his eyes frantically going from his dad to the school. "Stay in the-oh my freaking god, no!" Scott had just come out from the gym entrance and was walking quickly towards the gate. His dad was headed towards the gate as well, and another couple of steps and he'd be able to see Scott with the light of his flashlight. "Go back, you idiot! Go-oh my god..." He panicked and grabbed a large rock and threw it as hard as he could. It hit a tree trunk, making a loud enough noise that it caught his father's attention. He whipped around, shining his light towards the direction the rock had landed in.
"Stiles!" Scott hissed, stopping in front of the gate. "I cant get back over!"
"Shh! I saw a hole in the fence over here. Squeeze through that, but for the love of god, don't make any-" Bang. Scott's lacrosse equipment rattled the gates and shook the fence. "Noise. Don't make any noise."
Scott cringed. "Sorry. I tried. And dude there was a hole in the netting of my-" His mouth was covered by Stiles's hand just as the sheriff passed by their hiding place. As he walked away, Stiles let go of him and sighed. "That was close. Good thing I didn't make a whole lot of noise..."
"Oh, no. Good thing. Only the entire block heard your racket. You're lucky my dad is a little deaf or else he would've busted our asses. Now do you have everything? Or do I have to let you use my head as a stool again so you can hop over the fence?"
"I'm good. Got everything I need. I still cant believe there's a hole...who would do that?" He glanced at Stiles, who was frowning and rolling his eyes. "Jackson. I knew it. Why? I suck at lacrosse."
"Even if you do suck, that dick will find a way to make your life miserable. Trust me. Remember that time 3 years ago when he glued my locker shut and they had to use a freaking blowtorch on it?"
Scott grinned, but it faded as Stiles glared at him. "Sorry. That wasn't funny at all. Very mean of him..."
"That asshole will get what's coming one day. Even if it getting crushed by a cement truck-don't look at me like that. The more agonizing the pain, the happier I'll be."
"Remind me to never mess with you..." Scott muttered as they approached the jeep. "What was your dad doing here anyway?"
The jeep rumbled to life and Stiles made a weird face at the noise. "Um...he does rounds around here sometimes. Especially with the weird calls we've been getting lately. Something about dead animals being found in the woods. Ripped in half or something, I don't know."
Scott scoffed. "You? Not know about a police report? Stiles, seriously. You had your room hardwired to your dad's police scanner just so you could hear the calls being made. How can you not know?"
Stiles pulled out onto the road and shook his head. "I'm just saying. The calls are weird. Ripped up animals? Their bodies scattered around in the woods? Sounds pretty suspicious to me."
Everything is suspicious to you... Scott said to himself. He didn't want to make his friend feel bad. Stiles was...different from the other kids at school, but he had the biggest heart Scott had ever seen. "My mom's not home from work, so you can park in the driveway."
Stiles pulled up into the McCall's driveway and sighed. "So you're still dead set on trying out? Even if you do make a complete fool of yourself on the field?" Scott glared at him. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just saying. Save yourself the pain and humilation from the one and only Mr. Jackson Whittemore?"
"I will make the team this year, Stiles. I've been practicing all summer. I can only get better with practice, right?" Scott took off his seatbelt and sighed. "What if I don't make it?"
"Dude, in the great words of Finstock himself: Get your ass off the field if you can't play the game. Which makes sense, really. We've been the winning team for the past ten years...why ruin the streak now? I'm not saying you're a bad player! Scott? Scott!" Scott had gotten out of the jeep and slammed the door. "Okay. Whatever. Just next time before you slouch off like a pissed off girl, can you remember to GO EASIER ON MY DOOR?" He scowled as Scott went into the house and backed out of the driveway. He didn't live far from Scott and the ride home was a blur as the only thought on his mind was taking off his dirt-stained clothes and chilling with his xbox. But first, the fridge was calling him.
"Mmm...sandwich, sandwich, sandwich..." He grabbed whatever he could in his arms and carried it over to the counter. Ham, turkey, cheddar cheese, mayo, mustard, pickles, tomatoes, lettuce. All piled up to create a beautiful masterpiece. He whistled at his artwork and took a large bite into it just as his dad's scanner went off.
"Sheriff, we got a call in around 10:35. Joggers found a dead body in the woods. Requesting backup immediately."
Stiles spit out the mouthful of his sandwich, staring at the scanner in shock. A dead...body? In Beacon Hills? He shoved the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and raced back out to his jeep, scrambling inside. He sure was hell wasn't going out in the woods alone. Maybe Scott would be up for a little adventure?
He smirked at this, the excitement of it all making him shiver in anticipation. This was going to be a good night.