Chapter 3 : He actually gave me the creeps.
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I am the Protector. I ceased to exist in my own world. And I have to fight the darkness that will fall upon Beacon Hills. Easier said than done. I get the idea but I am not good with responsibility. I'm not scared to say that I don't react well when people get hurt; I remembered once my brother fell down the stairs naked, yes! Naked! Anyway he could have hurt himself badly but my first reaction was to laugh, my father scolded me for that and I was ashamed then. But now I still laugh thinking about this and my brother too. If someone asks for volunteers to represent my class for example, I will not be the first to volunteer. I remember a time when I used to, but this is over now. If I can get any chance to escape any responsibilities of any sort, I will. I am not scared to say that I am a coward. You will not see me to stand up for someone else and sometimes not even for myself. Again there was a time when I used to but you grow up and you change for the best or for the worse. And I change for the worse, I guess. That doesn't mean I blame people when I get a bad grade or when I made a wrong decision. No! I know when it's my fault but I don't spend my time sulking about it. What it's done, it's done and there's nothing I can do about it. I always say that I will do better next time and surprisingly I do. Alright! Maybe I'm not that bad but I'm not good either. Nobody's perfect. So I don't think that I'm the best choice to be their Protector. As Jacques the fatalist will say: "everything that happens to us down there, whether for good or for evil, has been written up above on a great scroll"1 I don't remember the exact words but in the big lines that's the idea. In other words I don't think that I have a say in the matter since I was chosen. There's nothing I can do about it. Apparently it is my fate.
The day after I was back to work and I needed to clear my mind. I needed to stop thinking about the night before so I occupied myself with Coach Finstock's paper work. Yes! He has paper works to do and a ton of them if you may ask. Forms about Lacrosse season which I didn't touch as I don't know what this is about, forms about Beacon High team concerning their grades that I did touch actually. I just reported their grades that I get from the computer. Forms about new equipment it was partially done all I have to do was add the number and sign the paper and once again Stapley's memory helped me, I knew exactly what I had to do. And many others form that I will not bore you with. This is what I was doing when McCall and Finstock enter the office.
"What do you mean you can't play the game tomorrow night?" The Coach asked
"I mean I can't play the game tomorrow night." Scott answered
"You can't wait to play the game tomorrow night" The Coach countered
"No, Coach I can't play the game tomorrow night" Scott corrected. I tried hard to follow their conversation but it was already giving me a headache with all the repetition. Seriously what did the Coach do not get in "I can't play the game tomorrow night."? It's not that complicated is it?
"I'm not following." The Coach said confused. Well, you and I both, buddy.
"I'm having some personal issues." Scott replied. Oh! That's new! That's how you call it these days. Being a werewolf is having personal issues. That's a way to put it. I know where he's coming from, he can't actually spread the word about him being a werewolf, now can he?
"Is it a girl?" The Coach asked. What the…? How, tell me how did he arrive to that conclusion?
"No"
"Is it a guy?" the Coach continued and then he added "You know our goalie Danny is gay."
"What does that have anything to do with his personal issues?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"You never know these days, Stapley. It could be relevant." Finstock replied.
"Yeah, I know Danny is gay, coach, but that's not it" Scott decided to ignore my little interruption. Atta boy!
"You don't think Danny is a good looking guy?" Apparently he can't just drop the subject.
"I think he's a good looking guy but I—I like girls" Scott stammered "And that's not it anyway."
"What, is it drugs? Are you doing meth?" The Coach interrogated "Because I had a brother that was addicted to meth. You should have seen what it did to his teeth. They were all cracked and rotted. It was—it was disgusting" He finished. Please someone shoot me. How can a conversation start with "I can't play lacrosse" and suddenly go in that direction.
"My God! What happened to him?" Please Scott, don't encourage him.
"He got veneers!" Coach answered as if it was obvious. "Is—is that what this is about? Are you afraid of getting hurt, McCall?"
"No, I'm having some issues dealing with aggression." He declared.
"Well, here's the good news. That's why you play Lacrosse. Problem solved." Coach argued.
"Coach, I can't play the game tomorrow night." McCall repeated.
"Listen, McCall, part of playing first line is taking on the responsibility of being first line," Coach started. Now I feel bad for Scott, really. For the first time he's first line and he has some werewolf issues that he has to deal with. Life is not going easy on him. "Now if you can't shoulder that responsibility, then you're back on the bench until you're ready."
"If I don't play the game you're taking me off first line?" Duh! Scott, yes! He will.
"McCall play the game!" Coach told him getting in his face.
McCall went out of the office after this confrontation with the Coach. I was going to tell the Coach that he could have just skipped to that part but I thought it was useless. Because I knew that he would have never listened to me. Bob Finstock told me that he would finish the paper work and that I can do whatever that I do usually (these are his words.) So I did as I was told. Since I'm not supplying for anyone's class today, I went to the library to do some research. I used their computers because they have some. I googled "Protector" and you will be surprised to know that there's nothing about this. I tried everything; folklore, supernatural, legends; nada. Stapley was my only source of information after all. It's like no one wants the people to know about the Protector kind. Maybe because there is nothing to find and she lied to me and there's no such thing as a Protector.
I left the library after a few hours. I was walking in the corridor when I was stopped by the Sheriff himself and the Principal.
"Hey! Em," The Sheriff greeted
"Sheriff" I replied "What brings you here?" I asked
"Well, you heard about the body, didn't you?" he asked and I nodded notifying that I knew about the body. He continued "Well, we want everyone under the age of 18 to be in their home by 9:30 pm."
"And you want us to warn the kids?" I already knew the answer but I wanted to be sure.
"Yes. And we'd like to institute the curfew, effective immediately." The Sheriff said.
"I will gladly warn the students about the curfew, Sheriff. Thank you to tell us." The principal intervened.
"Yes, I'm sure the teachers will cooperate and help you with anything you need." I supplied.
"Thank you!" Sheriff Stilinski sincerely replied.
"If you don't need me for anything else, I will leave you." The principal said.
"Sure, I won't use more of your time." Sheriff dismissed him. The principal left us and the Sheriff was about to leave. I called for him before he can do so.
"Sheriff, wait!" he motioned for his deputy to wait for him outside.
"What can I do for you?" he asked.
"Do you know what happened to that woman?" I questioned
"No, not yet" He replied
"Do you at least know her name?" I asked again
"No, we don't." He answered softly "and before you ask anymore questions. We don't know who killed her. But you don't have to worry. We have this under control."
"I'm not worrying." I declared and he raised his eyebrows "okay, maybe I am. The truth is I was thinking about her family. She surely has one." Sheriff never said anything back but he understood what I meant. And I'm sure he was already thinking about what I mentioned before. How was he going to break the news to that poor girl's family? If only I knew.
After that the day went pretty quickly. I went back home, did some cleanings and went straight to bed. I didn't dream that night and it was a good sleep. Before I knew it Saturday was there. I went shopping first and then I went to school to help Coach settled everything for the night. I had a uniform of my own as the Co-coach of the team. It kind of made it official. I was making sure that we have enough water, towels—that there's enough food for the food stall. A day passed by pretty fast when you are busy. The boys were getting ready and Jackson was going to play despite his separated shoulder. I was enjoying myself. I loved the atmosphere—it was exciting and euphoric. I wasn't the one to play but adrenaline was pumping through my veins. And I liked this feeling. There were a lot of people mainly parents and students from school. But I couldn't help but notice that Lacrosse is pretty popular game. The referee whistled to signal the beginning of the game. I was sitting by Stiles on the bench. Sheriff Stilinski came by to say hello.
"Hey,Em! Hey Stiles!" He greeted both of us
"Hey!" we answered both at the same time.
"So, you think you'll see any action tonight?" He asked his son
"Action?—Maybe" Stiles answered
And the game was on. Jackson was the first to have the ball. The players of the other team was on him and Scott was demarked but he didn't pass it to Scott instead he continued to play. Stiles was munching his glove and I took it from him. What? He was making me nervous—I had to. Scott run to the ball and so did Jackson. He rammed into Scott sending the guy on the ground.
"You got to be kidding. You are on the same team guys." I yelled standing from my seat. "For crying out loud, stop being a jerk, Jackson." Yes! I said it. Maybe I don't have the right to do that but someone has to say something.
And Jackson scored. I couldn't help but cheered with the crowd. I mean it was the first score for us. I heard Stiles said "Brutal" next to me. I looked behind me—I saw Lydia and Allison brandishing a "We love you Jackson" sign. Stiles was right that was brutal. Anyway, the game started again. But Scott was acting weird. He was actually pulling some stunt that a mere human being couldn't possibly do. It was impressive but if he wanted to keep his secret a secret it wasn't the best way to do it. He scored and Stiles and I jumped from the seat and hugged each other. The coach was yelling to the team member to pass to McCall. McCall next move was funny to see. The other team actually passed him the ball. Who does that? There was a draw between the two team and we needed to score one more time to win the game. Scott was shifting again. I could see it and Stiles saw it. He really needed to calm down or everyone tonight would know that he is a werewolf. Whatever happened in his head helped him. He scored and Beacon Hills won the game. The crowd just left the benches and run onto the field to cheer the team and so did I. I completely forgot about McCall shifting. Protector much.
After the cheering part—everyone went home—I was walking on the field when I saw Jackson picking up a glove. He was examining the glove like there was something weird with it. "Jackson, are you alright there?" I asked. He just looked at me and he was about to answer. But now he was looking over my shoulder. I looked behind me and here was standing wolf man himself: Derek Hale. He was standing on the field—under the spotlight and he was glaring at us. He actually gave me the creeps.
1 Jacques the Fatalist and his master by Denis Diderot
