Stiles stood up as Scott approached to give his friend ample room as he returned to his window seat.
'Crisis averted?' he asked, spitting out the adjusting rope of his hoodie he's been nervously chewing on as a supplement for chewing gum whilst Scott and Boyd argued.
Scott nodded.
''Kay, good,' Stiles replied, as he sunk back into his seat ''cause we got another problem; Ethan keeps checking his phone like every five minutes – it's like he's waiting for something,' he waved his hands around to reinforce his hypothesis, 'like a message or signal of some kind… I don't know, something evil though, I can tell – I have a very perceptive eye for evil, you know that,' he turned to point his finger meaningfully at Scott who was dully staring at the back of Ethan's head.
'I don't like him sitting with Danny,' Scott muttered.
'Yeah neither do I,' Stiles agreed.
The two boys sat, staring at Ethan for a few seconds before Stiles shoved his hand in the pocket of his jeans and rummaged around. A few moments later he pulled out his phone.
'Let's see what he's waiting for,' Stiles muttered.
'What're you doing?'
'I'm gonna ask,' Stiles replied, eyes intent on his phone screen.
Da-Da-Bling!
I jerked my head towards the sound of a message-tone, leaving Boyd and Isaac to continue our conversation about random guy stuff. A few seats towards the back of the bus, Danny frowned and pulled out his phone. He read the message he'd received and twisted in his seat to direct his vision to the back of the bus. I frowned and followed his gaze, snorting when I spotted Stiles.
Typical.
The teenager met Danny's eyes and grinned manically, lifting his own mobile and pointing meaningfully at the teenager.
Isaac shifted in his seat to see what had captured my attention and noticed the exchange between Stiles and Danny. He snickered.
'Gay,' was his short conclusion before turning towards the front of the bus again to resume his conversation with Boyd.
Meanwhile, Danny had spotted Stiles. He shook his head and mouthed a silent no. Stiles' grin vanished and he raised his hand innocently, why not? He swiveled his head to Scott before quickly flicking his gaze back to Danny, a look of determination setting in his face. I watched as Danny shoved his phone back in his pocket and Stiles sighed irritably, fingers flying at lightning speed across his phone screen. His thumb stabbed the screen particularly hard and I heard a familiar message-tone.
Da-Da-Bling!
Danny pulled out his phone once more, read what was on the screen and shook his head incredulously as he replied to what I assumed was Stiles' message. A few seconds later, Stiles' eyes flew from the back of Danny's head to his phone screen and his mouth scrunched up in petulance.
Da-Da-Bling!
Danny glanced at his phone and twisted around in his seat to shake his head at Stiles. Stiles whipped his hands up in an expression of exasperation and Danny turned back to type a responding message. Beside him, Ethan noticed his friend's unusual behavior and turned to see what he was doing. Danny felt his scrutiny and looked sideways innocently before sending the message he had been texting.
Da-Da-Bling!
Danny shook his head once more as he read Stiles' answering reply and pushed his phone into his pocket, probably permanently from the look of annoyance on his face. Four rows behind him, Stiles frantically shook his head and jerked his hands in desperation. He scrambled in his seat to rest his arms on the seat in front of him, effectively placing the screen of his phone directly in front of his face. His fingers flew furiously.
Da-Da-Bling!…Da-Da-Bling!
Stiles phone jerked in his hands from the incredible force he was exerting into each finger that assaulted his phone screen.
Da-Da-Bling!...Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
Stiles sighed impatiently as he jabbed the send button, glancing up to see if Danny was responding to his messages.
Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
Danny let his gaze wander around the bus, keeping an expression of composure and absolute carelessness for the insistent message tone that was emanating from his pocket almost as frequently as Coach's whistle.
Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
Ethan turned his head towards Danny.
Da-Da-Bling!-Bling!
Stiles stuck out his tongue as his thumb jabbed the send button as fast as he humanly could.
Da-Da-Bling! Da-Bling! Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling! Da-Bling! Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
Coach and half the kids on the bus began turning their heads.
Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling! Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling! Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling! Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling! Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling! Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling! Da-Bling!
'Something wrong?' Ethan asked over the tirade of message-tones.
Da-Da-Bling!
Da-Da-Bling!
'Actually,' Danny turned to respond to his friend and miraculously, his phone silenced, 'I was… wondering the same thing about you'.
Stiles craned his neck and half-stood using the back of his seat as leverage, gaping as he watched the byplay between Danny and Ethan. Beside him, Scott was staring intently at the pair as well.
Suddenly, Ethan twisted around in his seat, his eyes making a beeline for Stiles and Scott.
The two boys quickly sunk as low into their seats as possible, scrambling until they were completely hidden behind the bus seat in front of them.
'Well… that wasn't very… subtle,' Stiles whispered.
Ethan whipped his head back to the front, a thoughtful expression on his face.
The two boys slowly slid back up into view. Scott's eyes screwed shut and face in a grimace as the movement agitated his wound. Stiles' mouth pulled down in a curious expression and one eyebrow raised considerably high.
Ba-Bing
Stiles raised his hand slightly and glanced down at his phone, reading the message that had appeared on the screen
Someone close to him is sick, might not make it through the night
His eyebrow dropped back to its normal position and he showed Scott the message from Danny.
'Ennis,' the beta muttered.
Stiles frowned.
'Okay, so does that mean ah'.
'He's not dead,' Scott confirmed.
Stiles looked up at the back of Ethan's head.
'Not yet'.
I jolted upright in my seat as my pants vibrated. Instinctively, I reached for riptide and my hand brushed against the phone in my pocket. I relaxed, the source of the vibration identified. I pulled out my mum's phone she'd forced me to borrow for the trip, frowning when I saw Stiles name on the screen.
Stiles? What are you doing? I told you that if I use a phone it's like a beacon for monsters, remember? You're only supposed to text this number if it's an emergency! Not if you're only sitting like, six rows behind me.
Moments later the phone vibrated again.
This is an emergency! And for the record I can't verbalize this message in case Ethan uses his superhuman hearing to eavesdrop.
I swiveled my gaze to the back of the bus and glared at the teenager. Stiles rolled his eyes and the mobile buzzed in my hand
It's legit, I swear! Seriously, Scott's been hurt.
I frowned and prodded the phone screen to respond.
Yeah, I know and so does Ethan probably – Isaac saw blood on his shirt when he went to the front to stop Boyd and asked about it.
Did they tell you what happened?
Yeah, but they reckon Scott'll be fine by the time we get to the meet..
So did I but it looks like he's actually getting worse.
I chewed by lip and threw a furtive look towards Scott. I'd seen my fair share of injuries and recognized the symptoms on Scott's pale face.
Have you let Deaton know? He's supposed to be your medic, right?
Good idea. I'll keep you posted.
Don't text again! Just come up to me and talk next time
Yeah, yeah mum. Don't worry there's three badass werewolves here you can call for backup if a monster manages to get its way through all the cars.
I grinned and put the mobile back in my pocket.
'Jarred I'm warning you – I'm an empathetic vomiter. You throw up, I'm gonna throw up right back on you and it will be profoundly disgusting'.
Coach Bobby Finstock stood over the pale and sweating boy who glanced up fearfully at the frowning man.
'Please don't talk about throwing up… it's not good,' Jarred shook his head and swallowed.
'I might throw up on you just to make a point Jarred,' Coach warned, ignoring the teenagers plea.
'It's not good – not good,' the younger boy squeaked out, shaking his head frantically.
Coach dismissed the blubbering boy and addressed the rest of the bus.
'Now the rest of you – don't think we're gonna miss this meet because of a slight traffic jam,' he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the never-ending line of vehicles, 'a minor tornado warning… Jarred,' he added as an afterthought, 'we're gonna make this thing – nothing it going to stop us!' his voice raising in volume and fingers stabbing towards the floor.
His eyes caught movement at the back of an otherwise inattentive bus of teenagers and his face scrunched up in irritation.
'Stilinski – put your hand down,' he complained.
Stiles waved his hand apologetically although his face told a different story.
'You know there's a food exit about a half a mile up. I don't know, if we stop and then maybe-'.
'-we're not gonna stop,' Coach interrupted, shaking his head.
'Okay, but if we stop'.
'STILINSKI!' Coach roared before blowing his guts out into his whistle. The nearest kid from coach and his whistle ducked, ramming his fingers in his ears and glaring accusingly at the silver piece of metal.
'SHUT IT!... SERIOUSLY – IT'S A LITTLE BUS!' his fists waved dangerously through the air with every word he yelled to the teenager at the back, 'STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS!'
Stiles shook his head and covered his mouth as he sunk back into his seat, 'I hate him,' he told Scott.
He stared at Coach's retreating back before turning to his friend, 'did you get anything from Deaton?' he asked.
Scott sighed wearily and leant back against the window, 'I keep getting his voicemail, 'he replied in barely a whisper.
Stiles sighed, 'that's it – I'm calling Lydia and Allison,' he announced.
'How're they going to help?' Scott muttered, 'they're back in Beacon Hills'.
'They're not,' Stiles replied, his eyes glued to his phone, 'they've been following us for hours,' he jerked his phone over his shoulder, indicating to the traffic behind them and twisted in his seat to glance at their car, 'pathetic,' he muttered.
Lydia stared in boredom at the gaudy yellow bus they were following. Honestly, it was a complete eyesore amongst the sea of red, blue and silver cars – like an accessory that didn't match with an otherwise perfect outfit.
BRRRING! BRRRING!
She tilted her head curiously and flipped her phone upwards so that she could see the screen.
Stiles Stilinski
BRRRING! BRRRING!
'Ah…' she slowly turned to Allison sitting in the drivers seat and showed her the caller I.D.
Her friend sat up straighter as she answered the phone. Lydia breathed out as she pressed accept.
'Hey, Stiles,' she began, trying not to sound as if her brain had been frying in Allison's car for the past few hours, 'yeah we're just about to walk into a movie… uh… you know, popcorn and-'.
-I know you guys are right behind us, put me on speaker
'You d-okay,' Lydia complied.
She sighed and held the phone between herself and Allison so that they could both listen in on the conversation.
Okay, look – Scott's still hurt
Allison frowned, 'what do you mean still? He's not healing?'
No, he's not healing. I think he's actually getting worse… the bloods turning like a black colour
'What's wrong with him?' Lydia questioned.
What's wrong with hi-I don't know do I have a PhD in lycanthropy? How am I supposed to know that?
Allison closed her eyes and sighed at the teenager's sarcastic tone, 'we need to get him off the bus,' she told him.
'Uh-and take him where? A hospital?' Lydia questioned.
'If he's dying, yeah,' Allison looked her friend in the eye. Lydia pursed her lips and nodded.
'Stiles, there's a rest area about a mile up, tell the Coach to pull over,' Allison directed.
Twenty metres away in a hired school bus, Stiles rubbed his forehead with his hand, feeling an upcoming headache at the mention of the man who – like many other teachers – loathed him.
'Yeah, I've been trying,' he hissed back to the girls through his mobile.
Well-reason with him
Stiles dropped his hand and a look of disbelief overcame his face
'Reason!? Have you met his guy?' he burst out.
Just try something
Stiles huffed and glared at the car in the traffic jam behind him.