4- Lacrosse Can Be Lethal
Claire sat on the bleachers of the lacrosse field, a few days after the party on the full moon fiasco, boredly watching the team running up and down the field with headphones in. If she was totally honest, lacrosse was not her sport, but since almost the whole school practically worshiped the game and Claire's two best friends were on the team, she was stuck watching every game and most practices. Maybe that was why she wasn't a big fan.
She usually sat by herself on the bench, reading, doing homework, listening to music, whatever that would divert her attention from only watching lacrosse. So you could image Claire's surprise when none other than Lydia Martin sat down in the spot next to her. Frowning a bit, she paused her music and ripped the buds out of her ears.
"Uh... hi," Claire spoke, not entirely sure what to say.
Lydia, instead of responding with a 'hi' or 'hello' or any other greet that most people would find normal and acceptable, she just turned towards the girl and smirked ever so slightly. "So, I saw that you were at my party on Friday."
"Right, yeah, I was," Claire nodded in agreement. "Because you know... you invited me and everything."
Lydia let out a short laugh (although Claire wasn't really trying to be funny, she just didn't know what else to say) before continuing. "How did you like it?"
"It was really fun, thanks for inviting me," she smiled, hoping that that didn't sound pathetic or fake or anything. "And I heard you were with Wes? Is that a thing?" Claire hoped she sounded nice instead of creepy or something.
The smirk that seemed to be permanently etched onto Lydia's face seemed to grow. "Most definitely," she replied coyly, staring at the boy on the lacrosse field. To Claire, it seemed that Lydia had a certain agenda to everything she did. "But my life love life doesn't matter at the moment. I saw you with Jackson at the party."
Unknown to the girls, Scott's super werewolf hearing picked up on their conversation. He quickly looked at the two on the bleachers. Claire was with Jackson at the party? What did that mean? He shook his head snapping back to the game. He like Allison. He went to the party with Allison, not Claire.
So why did it bug him so much?
Claire frowned. "What?"
Lydia rolled her eyes teasingly. "I mean I saw you at the party with Jackson, as in Jackson Whittemore. You know, my best friend, captain of the lacrosse team, super-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know who he is," she interrupted.
"What happened between the two of you at the party?"
Claire shrugged, ignoring Coach's yelling. "I mean, we talked, but that was it." Lydia seemed dissatisfied with her answer, but what else was she supposed to tell her? Did she want to hear that they got into a huge fight and can't stand each other anymore, or they hooked up, or...?
"That's all that happened?" she asked.
"Um... yeah," Claire nodded. "I mean, he was really nice and funny and everything, but... that's all. We talked."
Lydia frowned, like there was something wrong with that picture. "Does this have something to do with your friend Scott?"
Scott's ears perked up at the sound of his name, getting ready to face off with Jackson for the second time. Why did Lydia care about Claire and Jackson, and why did she think them talking and nothing more had something to do with him?
Was Lydia trying to hook Jackson up with Claire or something?
"What?" she frowned. "No- What? What's wrong with talking?"
But Lydia never got a chance to respond. Before she could open her mouth, Jackson's cry of pain reached their ears. Claire, quickly turning to see what was happening, saw both Jackson and Scott lying on the ground, Jackson looking like he was in immense pain. Lydia shot to her feet, Claire following shortly after. Lydia grabbed her wrist, half leading half dragging the girl down the the field.
By the time the two girls reached Jackson, the whole team had huddled around him. Looking around, Claire saw that both Scott and Stiles were no where to be seen.
"Help him up, help him up!" Finstock shouted. Two players tried to get him up as delicately as possible, but Jackson still cried out in pain. "There you go," Coach spoke, patting the shoulder that wasn't hurt. "You think you can walk it off?"
"Coach, that was a pretty bad fall," one player spoke.
"Yeah," Danny, Jackson's other best friend, agreed. "He should probably go to the hospital to get his shoulder checked out. It could be dislocated or something."
Finstock sighed heavily. "Alright Whittemore, go to the hospital. But if it's anything more than a dislocation I'll... I'll hurt you."
Jackson frowned. "Uh, that's not really something I can control, Coach."
"Whatever, just get out of my sight!"
And with that, the fate of Jackson's lacrosse season rested in a doctor's visit.
"Wait, what happened?"
Scott and Claire were talking on Skype later in the day. He was telling her about everything that occurred after school when he couldn't talk to her, including the discovery that it was Allison's father that shot at her with a crossbow and attacking Stiles in the locker room.
"That's a lot of information to take in, dude," Claire continued.
"I know," Scott sighed.
"Like, our lives just got way more complicated."
"I know," he groaned.
"But you're not gonna give up on the whole Allison thing, right?" Claire questioned. "Just because her family might be a bunch of werewolf killers."
Scott sighed, a blush unnoticeable to the camera rushing to his cheeks. He didn't want to talk about his current crush to the girl who he still kinda has a crush on. "No. I mean, I really like her, and she might not know anything about werewolves."
Claire nodded, a faint smile on her face. Scott's crush was just too adorable. "What about the whole 'wolfing out during lacrosse' thing?" she asked. "Was it because Finstock's yelling made you mad?"
"Yeah," he agreed, choosing to not mention overhearing her conversation with Lydia.
"Then what are we going to do about it?" Claire asked. "Lacrosse is pretty aggressive. You can't wolf out any time someone knocks you over."
After she asked, Scott seemed to deflate. "I have no idea," he groaned. "I mean, I can't be first line if I'm gonna wolf out and attack someone on the field, but I kinda have to."
"Yeah, especially with what happened to Jackson," she nodded. That question just upset Scott even more, guilt rushing over him. Claire, noticing this, cringed, realizing that it wasn't the right thing to say at the moment. "Oh, sorry. I mean, especially with what... didn't happen... to Jackson."
Scott smirked, rolling his eyes a bit. "Wow, I fell way better now. Thanks for your comforting words."
"Any day, Scotty boy," she smiled brightly.
Before either of them could continue the conversation, their Skype rang, a picture of Stiles covering their screens as he called them. Scott, hosting the call, answered.
Stiles turned around in his chair, shooting a toy gun at the camera. "Wow, what an entrance," Claire spoke sarcastically.
"Don't be rude, Jameson," Stiles shot back, a small grin on his face.
"So, what did you find out?" Scott asked.
"Well, it's bad," Stiles sighed. "Jackson's got a separated shoulder."
The werewolf groaned, guilt once again washing over him. "Because of me?"
"Because he's a tool," Stiles responded.
Claire rolled her eyes at their response. She had no idea why Stiles hated Jackson so much. She didn't see what was so bad about him.
"Is he going to play?" Scott asked, Stiles's response not totally reassuring.
"They don't know yet. Now they're just counting on you for Saturday."
"But I can't play!" he exclaimed.
"Well, I guess this is more of a 'would you rather' situation," Claire said. "Would you rather let the team down or wolf out and let everyone know that you're a werewolf, including the girl who's parents hunt werewolves, and you might possibly kill someone?" When Claire saw Scott's and Stiles's expressions, she sighed. "Sorry, not helpful."
Scott groaned. "I have no idea what to do."
Claire noticed that Stiles's attention was focused on something on the screen, his video glitching out a bit. Scott, he started typing, it looks like-
The typing stopped, his screen completely freezing. "Looks like what?" Scott mumbled under his breath.
Scott, it looks like someone's behind you.
Claire's eyes widened, looking quickly towards his screen. Sure enough, she saw a shadowy figure in the background. Scott turned around, Derek Hale lunging at him. That was the last thing she saw before Scott's computer was unplugged, the call hanging up.
Claire sat there, a bit stunned at what she had just witnessed. Derek Hale just attacked one of her best friends. Holy shit, Derek Hale just attacked her best friend.
She probably sat in stunned silence for a minute before springing into action. Claire searched her room for her phone. It seemed that she was looking for it for an eternity. How come she never paid attention to where she put her phone?
Once Claire found it, she quickly searched her contacts, calling Scott. She wanted to make sure he was okay. She needed to know if he was okay.
"Damn it," she muttered, the call going to voicemail. She called again. This time, he picked up after the second ring.
"Scott!" Claire breathed out in relief. "What just happened."
"Derek happened," he responded bitterly. "He threatened me. He told me to not play the game on Saturday."
"But you're okay?" she questioned, still sounding worried. "You're not hurt?"
"I'm fine," Scott reassured, trying to ignore the little bits of butterflies exploding in his stomach. She really cared about him. "I'm more freaked out than anything."
Claire let out a breath of relief. "Good. That's good. Now what do we do?"
Scott sighed. "I've got no idea."
The next day at school, as Scott was trying to tell Finstock that he couldn't play on Saturday, Claire was at her locker, putting away the books she didn't need. When she felt someone appear next to her, she was kind of surprised to discover that it was Jackson. "Hey," she smiled at him. "How's your shoulder?" she asked, noticing that his arm was in a sling.
"Yeah, it hurts," he responded with a small cringe. "But it's really nothing. I have the sling just so that it won't get worse." He paused, thinking about his next words. "Uh, I came over here to ask you what happened at the party."
"Oh, yeah, you mean the whole Stiles running over and dragging me away thing?" she asked with a slight laugh.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Look, was it something I said? Is that why he came over?"
"What?" Claire frowned. "No, it was Scott. He was freaked out over his date with Allison and ditched," she lied easily. "We were just going to see if he's okay."
"Well, that's pretty cool of you," he smiled. And Claire smiled brightly back.
Down the hall, Stiles was watching the two talk, his eyes squinted. He didn't trust Jackson and Claire talking. Well, okay, he trusted Claire, but not Jackson. He was definitely up to something.
"Stiles, what-" Scott started to ask him before he was pulled down, looking down the hallway with him.
"Shh," Stiles shushed. "Do you see that?"
As he spoke, Claire let out a laugh, a smile plastered onto her face. Scott frowned. "Is Claire talking to Jackson?"
"Yup," Stiles responded bitterly. "And they were talking back at the party."
Scott frowned, opting to not tell Stiles that he already knew that. Stiles would just blow up about how he still had a crush on her or whatever, and that was something he didn't want to deal with at the moment.
"I swear, he's doing this to torture us," Stiles stated. "Just because you've gotten better at lacrosse and you've hurt his shoulder." He shook his head. "He is evil."
The bell rang, and Scott and Stiles quickly went back around the corner, Scott's mind thinking about why the two of them keep talking.
After school that day, Stiles picked Claire up to go to Scott's house. Apparently he "found something", Which was annoyingly vague in Claire's opinion.
As soon as they pulled to a stop outside of the house, Stiles bolted from the car and into the house, while Claire took her time. Sure, she wanted to know what he found, but she wasn't that desperate.
By the time she walked into the room, Stiles was almost done with his rant, the words "I've had a lot of Adderall" reaching her ears.
"I found something at Derek Hale's," Scott stated.
"Why were you at Derek Hale's?" Claire asked.
Before he could answer, Stiles exclaimed "Whoa, that's awesome! What was it?"
"There was something buried there." Oh, so Scott decided to answer Stiles's question, but not Claire's? "I could smell blood."
Claire's eyes widened. Blood? He could smell blood?
"That's awesome!" Stiles smiled brightly, voicing the opposite of Claire's thoughts. When he saw his friends giving him strange looks, he stumbled. "Uh, I mean, that's terrible! Whose blood?"
"I don't know. But when we do, your dad nails Derek for the murder, and then you two help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing. Because there's no way I'm not playing that game."
"Hey," Stiles pointed out the morgue as they walked into the hospital. It turns out that Stiles's plan to find out whose blood it was was for Scott to sniff the half of that girl's body to see if there was a match. And for some reason, Scott agreed to that plan.
"Uh, good luck, I guess," Claire told him before he walked off.
As Claire walked towards the chairs, sitting down and throwing her legs over on of the arms, she noticed that Stiles didn't follow her. She looked around in alarm, afraid that he followed Scott into the morgue and left her all alone in the waiting room. But instead of finding a Stiles-less room, she saw him standing by a desk. In front of Lydia.
Claire smiled to herself. Oh, this was going to be good.
"Hey, Lydia. You probably don't remember me. Um, I sit behind you in Biology." Stiles got nothing but a blank expression. "Uh, anyway, I always thought that we just had this kind of connection. Unspoken, of course. Maybe it'd be kind of cool to, uh, get to know each other a little better."
"Uh, hold on a second," Lydia spoke, taking a Bluetooth out of her ear. Claire's eyes widened as she slapped a hand over her mouth to hold in the laughs. "Yeah, I didn't hear any of that," she told him. "Was it worth repeating?"
Stiles gaped, at a loss for words. "Uh, nope. Sorry. I'll just-" he pointed over to where Claire was sitting, but noticed that Lydia already stopped paying attention to him. "You don't care."
He plopped himself into the seat next to Claire, pouting a bit. When he saw her laughing at his failure, he glared at her. "Hey, that was not funny."
"Are you kidding?" she laughed, kicking her legs from off the arm rest and turned to face him. "That was so great! That's probably the best thing that I've seen all day."
"Oh, yeah? Better than your conversation with Jackson?"
Claire's giggles slowly died down as she spoke, "What's your deal with Jackson."
"Wha- I told you, he's not a good guy. He wants to destroy Scott. He's evil!"
She rolled her eyes. "Please, don't be so dramatic."
"I'm not dramatic!" Stiles exclaimed, quite dramatically in Claire's opinion. "I'm just saying that's he's rude and you shouldn't talk to him."
"Well, he's nice to me," Claire pointed out. "What do you think about that?"
"He's... he's acting."
She raised an eyebrow. "Acting. Really?"
"Yes really," Stiles responded. "He's acting nice so that you'll start insulting me and Scott and turn into one of those popular robots who have no time for anyone except for other popular robots."
Claire frowned. "Are you trying to say that he's brainwashing me?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying!" he exclaimed. "He's brainwashing you with niceness and good looks."
"Whatever," she rolled her eyes. "You're just being bitter because Lydia just totally rejected you."
"Wha- not totally," Stiles disagreed. "I'm sure if she heard what I had to say we would be making out furiously right about now."
"Sure Stiles," Claire deadpanned, "that's totally what would've happened."
"I mean, it's a possibility."
"Not really," she shook her head. "Lydia told me today that she's totally got a thing with Wes Baylor."
Stiles groaned. "Damn it."
"Hey, there are totally other girls out there for you to obsess about."
Before Stiles had the chance to respond, probably with a spluttering "I'm not obsessed", Scott popped up in front of the two, seemingly out of nowhere. Stiles jump in his seat. "Holy god!" he exclaimed.
"Did it work?" Claire asked.
Scott nodded. "The scent was the same."
"Are you sure?" Stiles questioned as the three headed towards the exit.
"Yes," Scott stated plainly, showing that he thought the question was pointless. Which it totally was.
"So he did bury the other half of the body on his property?" Stiles continued, his tone not stopping him.
"Which means we have proof that he killed that girl," Claire nodded.
"I say we use it."
Scott frowned. "How?"
"Tell me something first," Stiles turned to him and stopped walking. "Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game, and he said you couldn't?"
"There were bite marks on the body, Stiles," Scott informed. "Bite marks."
Stiles nodded. "Okay, then we're going to need some shovels."
The two boys continued to walk out while Claire stared at them, eyes wide. "Uh, shovels?"