I'm so ecstatic with the reviews I've been getting. I hope my grammar and spelling is improving, mostly not fixed out of laziness, but I'm working on slowing down. I'm the type of person, who hates going back to re-read what I wrote because it's not interesting anymore. Anyways I love you guys, and hope you enjoy chapter 4!
Sorry I haven't responded in A LONG ASS TIME, my laptop failed on me and I had to return it to Geek Squad, and they took a month to fix it…
Chapter 4: Heads Will Roll
The blaring of a stereo could be heard from the front porch of Scott's house. He could feel the vibrations from the floor and watched his cereal bowl shake to the beat.
'What the hell?' Scott thought, getting up and placing his bowl in the sink. Walking towards the front door, he peeked through the lace curtains to see Stiles in his Jeep, tapping his fingers on the sideboard.
"What are you doing here? Where's Wolfie?" Scott called out after opening the front door.
Finally turning down the volume, Stiles leaned forward, after lowering the passenger door window. "Derek had something to do, so I'm here to pick you up, like old times, so I don't mean to interrupt your breakfast but uh, we got to get to school."
Stiles' response was a closed door and a minute later, Scott came out with his backpack hitched up on one shoulder. On his face wear a pair of square frames, not big as Hipster glasses, but the normal square frames that were popular amongst glasses wearers.
"Wait a minute," Stiles said, staring, "Why are you wearing your glasses?"
"I ripped my last pair of contacts, and my next order won't come in until the end of the month," Scott replied, shrugging. Digging into his bag, he pulled out a black beanie setting it over his mop of black hair. Pulling down the passenger mirror, he adjusted the front, combing his fingers through his bangs.
"How do I look man?" Scott asked.
Stiles took his brown eyes off the road for a split second to glance at his best friend. Mouth widening a bit, Stiles let out a low whistle.
"You look damn good. If you weren't my best friend and I wasn't already dating a man above all men, I would totally tap you," Stiles said, matter-of-factly.
"Thanks… I'll take that as a compliment."
"No problem, but who are you trying to impress? Jackson"
"Hell no. Why would I look this good for that jackass? I'm trying to impress the new girl Allison, of course."
"Her?" Stiles replied, nose scrunched, "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, what's wrong with her?"
"Nothing I guess," Stiles mumbled, Kanye shrugging it off. (1)
"Whatever man," Scott sighed, shoving Stiles a little, "Thanks for the ride and I'll see you later."
Mr. Harris droned for minutes, though it felt like hours, until he glanced up from the massive tome in front of him and turned sideways. A look of puzzlement crossed his face and then his eyes narrowed becoming snake-like slits.
"You," he barked out, pointing, staring in Scott's direction, "Who are you?"
Staring blankly, Scott, swiveled side to side to see who he could be pointing at.
'Me?' he mouthed, pointing at himself, a single eyebrows raised.
"Yes you, you idiot? Who are you? I've never seen you in my class before."
"Mr. Harris," Scott huffed in disbelief, "It's me Scott. Scott McCall."
Scott's sudden admission had everyone staring at him, as if he had grown another head. Soon whispers filled the room.
"What? That's McCall?"
"When did he get so hot?"
"Wow, he looks great with glasses!"
"Ummf, I would get with that!"
Scott flushed red and slumped forward in his seat, embarrassed.
Mr. Harris, caught off guard, straightened up and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Okay, now if the peanut gallery could keep quiet and pay attention to me, then maybe you might learn about the wonders of the transcription and translation of DNA into RNA into Protein," he drawled.
Scott tried to listen, but insistent kicks to the back of his chair had him paying attention instead to the nuisance in the back.
"What?" he hissed lowly, leveling brown eyes with blue eyes.
Jackson said nothing, just taking in Scott's new look. A slow forming smirk made its way onto his face and the older boy leaned back, propping his head with his hands that were grasped behind.
"Nothing, just wanted to see what had everyone so giddy, and now that I see it, I don't see much."
Scott scoffed at him, rolling his eyes, "Whatever, you wish you could pull off this look."
"What," Jackson teased, "looking like a nerd? No thanks, I like being able bodied."
"What do you mean by "able bodied"," Scott said, doing quotation signs with his hand, "I'm not handicapped."
"With those looks you might as well be."
Before Scott could come up with a witty retort, a smack at the back of his head had him whirling around.
"McCall since you seem so invested in what goes on behind you, maybe you would like to stay behind Friday for detention."
Jackson chuckled seeing Scott deflate at the news, but it seemed he chuckled too soon.
"You too Mr. Whittemore; if your boyfriend stays, you do too."
Ignoring the catcalls around them, Jackson fisted his hand in rage and glanced at the flush on Scott's face.
"Why are you so red," he mumbled lowly, leaning forward, "I bet you would like that wouldn't you, you fairy?"
"Why don't you get your face out of mine Jackson before you try and kiss me," Scott said, shoving the brunette back.
Jackson's response was to quickly dart forward and snatch the black frames off Scott's face. As soon as he did it, the school bell rang.
"Love to talk some more, McCall, but I got to go to practice, see you there," Jackson grinned, knowing that the younger boy couldn't see. He placed the stolen glasses in his front pocket and sauntered off.
"JACKSON," roared Scott, "Give them back!"
"Sorry," Jackson called back, "I don't speak nor understand idiot!" With a backwards wave he was gone.
"That jackass," Scott seethed, pissed.
Practice was one hell of an event. Because Scott was literally blind, Coach had him sit on the bleachers while everyone else practiced. Scott was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the ball heading towards him. All Scott knew that one minute he was sitting on the bench and the next second his face was kissing the ground. Surprisingly though it wasn't a rugby ball, but a soccer ball that had dealt the damage.
The lower corner of Scott's right cheek was bruised a dark mauve color, contrasting strongly with his caramel like skin.
"I'm sorry there," an unknown voice called out.
Squinting in the direction of the voice, Scott could make out a figure that was much bigger and broader than his leaner stature, standing in front of him.
"It's cool, I should have seen that coming, but right now I'm blind as a bat," he laughed, shrugging the apology off.
"Would you like me to escort you to the nurse's office, so you can get that bruised checked out? I'll walk you there since you know; you're blind as a bat."
Scott could feel his cheeks heat up, and he bowed his head, embarrassed. 'Good going Scott,' he thought patronizing himself, 'All you've done today is blush.'
"I would like - ," but he was caught off, as he was roughly grabbed by his forearm and dragged away.
"He doesn't need your help Jameson," a voice snarled, as they continued to yank Scott towards the school.
The trek back to school was a silent one, and only the harsh panting from the person dragging him to the nurse's office could be heard. As soon as the door opened, the nurse took a glance at the bruise darkening on Scott's face and rushed to get him an ice compress.
Scott fell in an ungraceful heap onto the cot after being pushed, and sat up with a squawk. "What was that for?" he asked, mouth agape in disapproval.
"Shut up McCall, idiocy doesn't look good on you." Glasses were jammed hastily onto the bridge of his nose and the face of one Jackson Whittemore came into focus.
Turning up his nose in distaste over the fact that Jackson's face happened to be the first thing he saw, Scott turned his head to the side. "Thanks," he mumbled, "But I wouldn't have to be here, if you didn't take my glasses."
Jackson scoffed at him, leaning against the door frame, "Whatever ungrateful, at least I helped you."
"Yeah unwillingly, you should have let that Jameson guy do it."
"Why? Is he your boyfriend?"
Scott, miffed, couldn't help but stare at Jackson blankly. "What is with you and me dating guys? No, he's not my boyfriend and I don't know him. No need to be ragging on my ass over guys talking to me. You sound so jealous, it makes me think you want a piece of this," gesturing at himself.
"A piece of what? Bony ass? Please I got me a woman with curves, I don't need nor like dick."
"Hey man, I'm not the one you need to reassure."
"Fuck you McCall," and Jackson walked out the infirmary.
The car ride back was silent until Scott decided to break it with a question. Lowering the compress that was pressed onto the slightly swollen and bruised check, Scott turned his body towards Stiles.
"Hey Stiles, do you know anyone with the last name Jameson? Plays soccer or something like that?"
"Yup, I do," Stiles answered, turning onto Scott's driveway, "Andrew Jameson, he's soccer captain, rich, but not as rich as Lord Jackass. He's seems pretty cool and is quite popular, why?"
"No reason," Scott replied, staring off into space.
A sly smile appeared on Stiles' face, "Do you like him or something? What happened to Allison?"
"I don't like him, he kicked a soccer ball into my face and tried to take me to the nurse's before Jackson cut in and took me himself. I still would like to get with Allison, but I'm a little more curious about this Andrew guy, I kind of what to get to know him; especially since he seems to piss off Jackson a lot."
"Are you gay Scott? Because if you are I take credit for it and you're welcome."
"I don't think I'm gay Stiles, maybe I'm bisexual or something. I don't know, I thought he was... attractive.
"Then you're a slut. It's either one or the other; you can't have your cake and eat your ice-cream too." (2)
(1) If you guys saw the MTV awards when Kanye interrupted Taylor Swift, I'm talking about the shrug he did at the end of his diss. Google it, if you have to, it's a meme.
(2) I read this somewhere, I forgot, and thought it was the most hilarious thing ever. Also I don't mean to offend anyone by this statement, you're not a slut if you're bisexual, love is love no matter what form. Sorry if you are offended, but it wasn't done intentionally to make someone feel bad. Love you guys
Thanks for reading my story, please REVIEW! Thanks