A/N: Hey there. Been a while, I know ... What can I say? Billie and I have been at odds lately, and it's not easy writing when your character won't cooperate.
Well, now that we're in better terms, let's carry on, shall we?
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I would have never treated Derek like that!
This week was going to be the death of her! It was barely Wednesday and already it felt like she'd endured enough drama for two weeks. She should have known things would go south ...
It had started when her dearest dad had brilliantly decided to give McCall a promotion as co-captain. The rest of Whittemore's little crew had not taken the news well, to say the least. There had been twice as much hazing in the locker rooms and on the field than before. Then McCall - the goddamn genius! - had gone and knocked Danny Mahelani straight into Narnia! She'd had to spend her whole Monday evening in the ER with her friend to make sure he was not severely concussed. Talk about a horrible Monday!
Then there had been Tuesday or, as she liked to call it, Horrible Monday: The Inevitable Sequel. Between the sudden increase in schoolwork the teachers seemed to have collectively decided on, and the numerous Lacrosse practices to coordinate before the semifinals, not to mention that Erica was downright blowing up her phone lately about not seeing her BFF in days, and that she hadn't had fifteen minutes of peace and quiet to think about Lahey's dinner invitation, Billie felt as if she was being pulled in so many different directions at the same time that she began feeling a kinship with the martyrs who had been drawn and quartered in the Roman persecutions.
And now on to Wednesday - middle of this hellish week. Semifinals Day. And it was already setting up to be the longest damn day of her high school career! Add to that a painful stomachache that kept her up for most of the night and left her lower abdomen feeling tender and bruised all morning today. On a slightly less grim note, keeping to her resolution of avoiding Scott and Stiles was not as hard as she'd thought, not only because Billie was being a busy bee, but mostly they seemed to be avoiding her as well. Now what was that about?
First period was dragging on remarkably slowly. No matter how great Shakespeare had been in his day, Othello's tragic jealousy and Iago's convoluted machinations held no appeal to her own - relatively drama-free - life. The biggest worry a girl her age should have nowadays was whether her period would pull a sneak attack that month, or how to ace her next History test. Nothing life-threatening there - unless the teacher really had it out for you.
Ohhh crappity crap! Period!
Her hastily raised hand caught the eye of the teacher.
"Anything to say about Iago's character arc, Miss Finstock?"
"No, ma'am, sorry. May I be excused?"
The advantage of being the daughter of one of the teachers was that most of the school staff trusted Billie so, with a sigh, she nodded and waved a dismissive hand towards the door. Billie bolted out of her chair and headed out of the class, her backpack swinging on just one shoulder strap.
That hadn't just been a horrible stomachache last night. Granted, the last few days had been hectic and the Finstocks hadn't bothered to cook, which had led her to wash down a single stale doughnut with some micro-waved coffee for breakfast more than once, and last night had been the epic conclusion of their delivery binge. The Soo Guy chicken had been too much, and she'd been belching Chinese macaroni for several hours afterwards. But the pain had been a bit ... inconsistent. Come to think of it, after about 5-6 hours of tossing and turning, she'd gone from sprawled on the sofa, with an ice pack against her lower back, to curled up against the cushions, with her hands splayed on her lower abdomen. Billie hadn't noticed how or when exactly the pain had changed from sharp stabs to a throbbing ache, but now it all made sense. When the indigestion pain had receded, her cramps had taken over, leaving her whole body in a generally deplorable state. Of course, it had to happen today!
Sobs and the sound of running water got Billie out of her own head, and she soon came out of her bathroom stall to see Allison trying to mask the traces of her crying by splashing cold water on her face. Billie wasn't sure whether or not she should speak up. She and the new girl hadn't been friendly much, especially before the whole 'trapped in school at night with a psycho killer' thing. But then again, she was crying in the girls' bathroom. Crying!
"Hey Argent? ... Allison? What's wrong?"
The brunette jumped and turned around. She had not expected any spectators to her meltdown.
"It's nothing, just ..."
Billie took a wild guess, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.
"Scott?"
The shaggy boy's name brought on a new wave of tears as Allison nodded, hugging herself tightly. Billie sighed pityingly and came over, initiating an awkward hug. At first the new girl did not respond, but just as Billie was about to let go, she felt arms going around herself and a returning hug. Now that the awkwardness had - kind of - been done away with, she felt alright running her hand in soothing circles in Allison's back.
"Okay okay, tell me what the goofball did. I'll have him tied up to the goalposts with a target on his groin next practice."
That got a watery snort out of the other girl.
"Thanks, I appreciate that ... It's just, he just ... He sent me those pictures of us a-and I don't know if he did it to punish me for breaking it off or ..."
"Okay back up, back up. He sent you pictures? Like dirty pictures or something?"
Allison looked up, affronted.
"Gosh no! We didn't ... not that kind of pictures!"
Phew! She had not wanted to deal with that kind of stuff ... In the end Argent just pulled out her cell and showed them to Billie. The athletic girl had no idea what could be wrong with such adorable pictures of the happy couple. Gosh, she needed a manual for dealing with heartbroken friends!
"So, he sent you those ... and now you're mad at him? Or am I missing something important?"
Allison shook her head, while a new bout of sobs made her breath hitch.
"No, no! It just hurts to see those, you know? Now that we're not together anymore ... It's so hard not to be with him a-and ..."
She knew that Allison had dumped McCall after that night in school, but she could not refrain from asking questions anyway.
"Okay, forgive my inexperience in the whole protocol of dating but ... why did you leave him, if the outcome is you crying your eyeballs out in here?"
Allison took a few deep breaths before answering her not-quite-friend.
"I just ... I feel like I can't trust him anymore, you know? He's been hiding something from me ... and I know he knows Derek Hale and ... and ..."
... And another few sobs later, when Allison got back in control of her tear ducts and saw the girl who was standing next to her, handing her a tissue, she was surprised - and a bit offended - to find Billie growing a - small - amused smile.
"What's funny?"
"Well, if you can't trust anyone who ever knew Derek Hale, you're going to be really lonely 'round here."
A watery snort came out of the skinny brunette.
"What d'you mean?"
"Well, this is a small town. Everybody knows everybody. I mean, heck ... I know Derek Hale!"
That got a start out of the Argent girl.
"You do?"
Now that the waterworks were under control and that Billie had Allison sufficiently distracted, they exited the bathroom and headed back to their classroom together.
"Yeah! Well, knew actually ... He used to babysit me sometimes, when I was little."
Now what came out of Allison was more akin to an incredulous snort.
"You're kidding! That ... Big-Bad-Hardcore guy with the serial killer vibe? He w-was your babysitter!?"
The irony of the situation was not lost on the girls. Both began chuckling under their breath.
"Yup! Imagine that! But about you and McCall ..."
The girl at Billie's side kept her eyes to the ground at this, and just let out a non-committal noise.
"I think you're right to be mad at him ..."
Allison looked back up to Billie's earnest face, surprised.
"You do?"
"Of course! That boy's been a real mess lately! Half the time I want to murder him myself, save everybody the headaches! But ..."
Cue the annoyed eye roll.
"There had to be a 'but' in there somewhere, didn't it."
Billie smiled apologetically.
"... but maybe you should try to explain to him why you are? Mad, I mean. So he can start earning back your trust, maybe?"
Argent eyed Billie with eyes narrowed, unsure of what to do with the advice.
"Who says I want to let him earn back my trust?"
Billie shrugged innocently.
"Don't know, maybe that crying girl who told me it was too hard for her to be away from McCall just now? Have you met her?"
With one last grunt, Allison nodded to her friend - ok yes, maybe we're friends, for now - and she'd regained a modicum of composure by the time they faced the teacher again.
Billie's day did not improve much after lunch, no matter how comforting the cafeteria lasagna was. She had finally managed to see Erica, although the blonde had been pouting at her all lunch long. As soon as she pushed her empty tray away, Billie decided that she'd had enough.
"Okay, what the heck is up with you? You've texted me almost every half-hour for the last three days, and now that I'm here, in person, you won't speak to me! Come on, Rickie ... Rickie-dink, my bestest friend in the whole wide world."
That pulled a small smile out of her friend. Granted, usage of their childhood nicknames on school grounds was not usually something the pair did - hello, death by embarrassment! - but this was a grave situation. And nobody was around to hear them anyway.
"You know, I'm not sure if you really are my bestest friend if I can't get a single answer from you with all those texts I send ..."
Billie groaned.
"I swear I didn't mean to not answer you! I just ... things got in the way."
"Huh? What kind of things?"
Right then, with her left eye twitching slightly, teeth bared and a deranged look in her eyes, Billie was doing an impressive imitation of Stilinski.
"What kind of ...? Okay, first, Danny being injured on the field ruined my Monday night. I don't know about you, but I am not the kind of chick who enjoys spending her free time in a hospital hallway. Then on Tuesday, Mr. Carlyle the Hun drops a pop-quiz on our ass, which I'm pretty sure I failed miserably, by the way. On top of him we got about a gazillion practices for Lacrosse semifinals coming along ... when is it? Oh yes! To-fucking-day! Oh, and let's not forget about that lovely little stomach ache that kept me up all night last night, that was just peachy! Did I mention that I got my period early too? Because I did!"
Now Erica could not stay stone-faced when her friend was ranting like that. The blonde was grinning around her straw.
"Drama queen!"
With a relieved sigh, knowing that Erica would not stay mad at her, Billie sat back in the uncomfortable plastic chair.
"So, what were all those texts about? The subtext, I mean. You don't usually try to reach me so ... eagerly. Is something going on?"
Erica shrugged.
"Well, it's ... after that whole thing happened last week, with that Hale guy ..."
Billie could feel the color draining from her face as her best friend spoke. She tried not to let it show and focus again on Erica's voice, which now sounded distant and muffled, as if her head had been underwater. Focus, Billie, focus!
"... I don't know who it was that got stuck in here with him, but I also don't not know ... that it might have been you either."
She eyed the young assistant-coach with a very concerned, almost motherly look. As hard as it was to think back to that night, Billie could not pretend anymore. Eyes staring down at the table, she simply nodded an affirmative to Erica's silent question. She then heard the hissing sound of her friend inhaling between her teeth.
"Shiiit! Did you ... are you okay?"
Billie could only shrug. Then sigh. And finally, after almost a minute of complete silence, she spoke.
"I'm not, not really. I mean, not yet. It was ... I mean I was terrified. Felt like a rat trapped in a maze. For a little while there I thought I might not get out of here at all, you know? ... But ... but it's going away, slowly. I think it helps that I've been so busy lately, too. Makes it feel like a bad dream that I've woken up from ... unlike my actual bad dreams, which are both very vivid and still happening every single night, like freaking clockwork! But then what else d'you expect after that kind of ... experience, right?"
Erica nodded, being her best, most comprehensive self. She'd never seen Billie looking so vulnerable as today. She'd never even heard the girl admitting to being scared of something - or someone - before. Billie was never scared. She dive-bombed into the deep end of the pool when the others were still wearing Swim Aids. She touched the lizards and the snakes at the petting zoo while the other kids stuck around the lambs and the pony rides. The Billie Finstock that Erica knew was never scared. Well except near needles, but that was something else entirely.
"Right, right. Can't even imagine what you've been through. I would be a total mess if I were in your shoes, honestly. Anyway, if you need to talk to ..."
"I don't."
Erica blinked at the forcefulness behind her friend's interruption, and Billie cursed at herself internally.
"Sorry, didn't mean to say it like that. I just ... I'm not ready to talk, I think." She groaned at her own lack of proper words and went on. "The thing is, I know that when I do, I'll be a total mess, like you just said. And there's just so many things going on right now ... I can't get a minute to go and pee in peace, let alone have a complete meltdown, no matter how well-deserved and justified it might be."
She extended her hand and grasped Erica's in front of her.
"But when I'll want to talk, I got you on speed dial."
After another quiet moment to bask in the glow of their friendship - wow, wasn't that sweet enough to gag on it! - Billie decided to change subjects. And because Billie Finstock did nothing without it being big and bold, she dropped this little tidbit of information.
"By the way, Lahey asked me out to dinner."
Erica's high-pitched squeal of joy made heads turn in the cafeteria.
Jeezus! What is it today with girls crying in the bathroom?
Billie was peeking her head out of the bathroom stall again and finding another one of her girl-friends - how did she suddenly get so many of those?! - in an advanced state of meltdown. Again.
Lydia Martin was standing in front of the sinks, mascara-black tear streaks on her face, not even trying to limit the damage. Something was wrong.
"Lydia?"
The redhead jumped when she heard her name, but when she saw Billie, her shoulders sagged. The dark-haired girl went to her, concern taking over anything else that might have been on her mind.
"Lydia, oh my gosh, what's wrong?"
"Jaa-ckson ... dumped mee-e."
Just now Billie noticed that Lydia Martin was not only letting tears ruin her makeup, but she was also sobbing outright. Feeling none of the awkwardness she had felt with Allison this morning, she opened her arms and hugged the redhead tightly.
Dammit, what was wrong with the Lacrosse boys? Breaking hearts left and right, acting like assholes to everyone around them and blaming everything except themselves for their own shitty behavior! Billie was getting fed up with all this. She'd never had so much drama in her life as in the last month or so, and most of it because of McCall and Whittemore and Stilinski. How? How the hell were these idiots the cause of every goddamn thing going wrong all around them like that?
Right, friends now, drama later.
Or ... drama now, breaking noses later? Whatever!
"What happened, Lyds?"
Lydia let out another few sobs and endeavored to explain the debacle.
"He - he just broke up with me, for no reason! He texted me th-this ... Look at it!"
She pulled out her cell and waved it frantically in Billie's face. She had to grab at her friend's hand to steady it and read from the tiny screen.
- Lydia, please give back my spare house key at your earliest convenience - as we are no longer dating.
"What the ... I'm going to break him in half!"
She could have stormed whichever class Whittemore was in to give him a piece of her mind - loudly - but Lydia's perpetual sniffling was the main concern at the moment. Another long hug was in order.
"Ohh Lyds I'm so sorry ... That blond gorilla doesn't deserve you."
That got a small smirk out of the redhead. She took a deep, steadying breath.
"I'm such a mess ... Look at me! He's the one doing that to me, and I hate him for it! It's not fair!"
Shaking her head, Billie produced a Kleenex from her backpack and offered it to the other girl - the memory of the almost exact opposite happening in their last Chemistry test coming to the forefront of her mind. How fast had the tables turned!
"What are you going to do about him?"
Lydia took a minute to try and pat her eyes dry, with a little more success than Allison this morning.
"I don't know ... I just got called 'useless baggage' in the middle of the hallway. I - I'll be the joke of the whole school. What's everybody going to say?"
Another surge of righteous anger bubbled up inside Billie. As frivolous as it might have felt to her, Lydia's popular standing was one of the most important aspects of the redhead's life. That and every single AP class in the school curriculum. As much as she did not want to get involved in high school drama, Billie decided right then and there that she was getting involved in this one.
"Don't worry about him, Lyds ... I'll tell anybody who asks that the douchebag couldn't take his demotion from Lacrosse captain like a grown-up, He threw a tantrum like an absolute toddler and blames you for it because he obviously can't stand that anyone might be better than him."
That got the last remaining sobs to subside in the face of genuine surprise.
"Why would you do that?"
Yes, why would she do that? With an evasive shrug Billie went fishing for an answer, but in the end, the truth came out.
"Well, I ... I just hate the way he treats you. Always have, always will. You shouldn't be dumbing yourself down just to stroke his ego. Just because you and I are not friends anymore, doesn't mean I don't care ..."
"We are."
Lydia's small voice cut right through Billie's tirade. Huh?
"What was that?"
Lydia stepped closer and wrapped her own arms around Billie's shoulders, as if the brunette had been the one in need of comfort. What the Hell was happening to everyone today?
"We are friends, Mina. Of course we are."
Coach Finstock was pacing in his office, practically chewing on his nails. Semifinals. Semi-freaking-finals! He was so on edge that he let out a yelp when his daughter came in.
"You okay, Dad?"
"Yeah yeah of course, I'm just ... I can't believe we're going head-to-head with one of the best teams in the region and we're starting off with probationary first liners! God! If we survive to see the next round, I'm giving up coffee!"
Billie snorted loudly at that, her head in her backpack, trying to pull out her binder.
"Right! I should tape you when you say stuff like that, it'd crack up the other teachers."
School was out for the day. Finally! They could now focus on the very very important task of getting their plays ready for tonight's game. The air was tense in the small office, neither Finstock speaking unless they needed to.
"By the way, Jackson left us a doctor's note. Says he's fresh for the game tonight."
Billie could not keep her scoff inside.
"What? Did he really need a doctor's note to tell him that? Boy's been chucked over the head with a stick one too many times, if you ask me."
"Yeah, well apparently he's got some minor medical thing, and when he updated his file with the school nurse, she sent us the info just to be on the safe side. Thank God Mrs. Norsom has a head on her shoulders. Here."
He handed her a small paper across the desk. She scanned it while struggling to pull her binder out from her backpack, then stopped, her brow scrunched in confusion.
"What the hell is aconite poisoning?!"
Her father shrugged.
"Some random plant in the woods. Blue flower or whatever. Useless weed. I googled it and if the doctor says it's not a problem, then it's really not a problem."
"Anything else interesting on that google search?"
"Besides Harry Potter references and werewolf conspiracies? Nope!"
Werewolves? What the heck? That word came up surprisingly often lately. She might want to google it up herself later, could be interesting.
After adding this little - very random - tidbit of information on Jackson's page, Billie scanned the players list and, completely without her say-so, her heart did a weird flippity-floppy thing in her chest when her eyes fell on Lahey's name. She cleared her throat and tried to focus on the rest of the page, but for some stupid reason her eyes would shift back to it more often than not. Which was stupid, really, because he was not on first line. She had had a hand in that. So. He was not on first line, and he was not going to play tonight, and he would probably not even show up to the game.
So she should stop staring at his name, right?
Goddamn it, she had just looked at it again!
Focus Billie, focus! Lacrosse first, pretty blue eyes later.
His eyes were really pretty, though. Sort of a nice, sky blue. Not too dark either. Just, really pretty eyes. You could get lost in those.
Which is exactly what you're doing right now, you nitwit! Focus!
"Who did you plan on putting up in the goals?"
Coach Finstock stopped pacing for a moment, pensive.
"I thought about putting Danny in there, can't let him get tackled by goons on each play. His teammates are already rough on him!"
Billie nodded and wrote down on her sheet - Dany Mahelahey.
What?! No, really this is getting ridiculous!
Billie began furiously erasing the offending mistake, leaving eraser dust all over the sheet. What was going on with her today? She'd been able to compartmentalize all her troubles until now, why was it so hard to focus on the one thing that was actually happening right now?
" ... thinking of having the Bilinski kid start on the first offensive."
Billie rolled her eyes at her dearest dad with a chuckle.
"Y'know his name's not really Bilinski, right?"
At that, Coach Finstock grinned at his daughter.
"I know, Peanut. It just cracks me up to see him answer anyway! So, what d'you think? Can he start us up right?"
The Assistant-Coach shrugged.
"Can't say. But that would be a good way of sizing him up for the rest of the game."
Coach nodded.
"Put him down on the starting list, then."
Billie was almost done writing Stiles' name, when her dad's finger knocked on the edge of her clipboard. She looked up to see him winking at her.
"Put him down as Bilinski."
Where's Stiles, for goodness's sake?
The bleachers were filled to bursting with people, no matter how cold it was in the wintry evening. Billie tried to pull her burgundy beanie - Cyclones colors - over her ears again. It was freezing tonight. Right when she was pulling her cell from her pocket to call her spazzy friend, she saw McCall coming down the bench and sitting down, talking to someone on his cell. That was Stilinski, she would bet on it! Before Billie could reach Scott's side, however, Coach had leveled with his new co-captain, and she could see by Scott's defeated air that it did not bode well for his best friend at the end of the line.
Billie groaned between her clenched teeth and stomped back up towards the other end of the bench - and into a solid wall of shoulder pads in a maroon shirt. Eyes going up, up, up, she saw Lahey's - paler than usual - face. The tall blond was practically shaking in his gear, and Billie felt a wave of sympathy for him. Lacrosse was a brutal sport, and Lahey had never appeared to enjoy ramming his broad shoulders into other guys at high speed, or even just running after a ball. She tried to sound as enthusiastic as she could, hoping it would rub off on him.
"Hey there Lahey, how 'you doing? Pumped for the big game?"
Isaac was fiddling nervously with his stick and nodded shyly.
"Yeah, I um ... you said I should show up, just in case so ... here I am."
Billie stopped looking all around the field and benches for a full second and stared at the blond boy in front of her, dumbstruck. He'd shown up to the game, in full gear, possibly to get called on the field and be brutalized by the other team ... just because she'd offhandedly mentioned it to him? That flippity-floppy thing was happening again in her chest, and she knew - for sure - that she was blushing. She forced herself to nod.
"Appreciate the dedication! Especially since we're already missing a first liner tonight!" Stilinski had yet to show up, damn him to hell and back!
"Um, sure. So ... Where d'you want me?"
How about that shady spot behind the bleachers?
Ignoring the sudden 180 degrees turn her mind had taken at hearing his turn of phrase, she nodded again, towards the bench.
"Just ... sit tight for now. I'll be right back!"
She left before hearing his response, but she needed to put some physical distance between them for now. She could not afford to get a wonky brain during the game. Lacrosse now, cute crush later.
Billie saw Jackson approaching McCall on the bench, and she made her way towards the co-captains. She did not like Whittemore's smug expression one bit. As she was getting closer, she noticed how Scott was looking around, appearing shiftier than if he'd been planning a heist. Alarms were starting to blare in her head, with Derek Hale's menacing glare and the word "Pack" cropping up again. She tried to get closer surreptitiously, keeping her eyes away from the pair and on the lacrosse field.
"Well then you get him to do it."
"I don't even know who he is, okay? Trust me, this whole thing is so much more complicated than you think! There's ... the-the-there's hunters."
Hunters? Didn't she hear Scott talk about hunters once or twice before? She looked around and her eyes stopped on Allison and her family in the bleachers, not far from them. Mr. Argent was a hunter, that she remembered. A hunter with a crossbow.
"Hunting what? What hunters?"
Billie had to lean in to hear the pair now, keeping her eyes on her clipboard and her ears up, tense as a piano string.
"Werewolf hunters."
It took about a second for Billie's brain to compute the word that had just come out of McCall's mouth. Werewolf. WEREWOLF.
Jackson snickered, like this was no big deal to him.
"Oh my god, you've got to be kidding me."
"No jerkoff! There's a whole ..."
Billie stopped listening altogether and speed-walked away from the two of them, her head a busy mess of conversation snippets, blurry cellphone snapshots, Wikipedia lore pages, and a growling figure with fangs and glowing eyes, waiting in the dark. It all came back to that single word. WEREWOLF.
She felt dizzy, sick to her stomach. She headed for the school building, thinking she could get a breather away from the crowd, but her dad stopped her in her tracks.
"Hey Peanut, where 'you going? The game is about to start."
Nervously shrugging, she replied with the first thing that came to mind.
"Nervous piss! Be back before the whistle, I promise!"
Although Bobby Finstock didn't think his daughter was a generally nervous person, he knew the stakes were high tonight, and that was bound to hit the new Assistant-Coach somehow. He nodded absently, looking back at the players on the bench.
"Sure thing, sweetheart. Be back quickly!"
She then sprinted to the side of the building, away from anybody's prying eyes. She needed something solid behind her back to lean on. Everything was tilting, and she heard static in her ears.
No, not another faint! Not the time, dammit-dammit-dammit!
Billie sat herself down on the ground, her back against the cold brick wall. Her hands were fisted in the grass, pulling at it, and her heart was beating so hard she swore it would rip through her chest like an alien any second. She shut her eyes tightly, and she forced herself to breathe in through her nose, counting up. 1-2-3-4. She then counted back down as she exhaled through her mouth. 4-3-2-1. After 7 or 8 repeats of this, her hands stopped gripping onto the grass so tightly and lay flat against the ground. She could feel the cold, seeping up in her legs, and the bite of the wintery air as she breathed it in. Her shaking receded, and she could feel her skin growing goosebumps under her sleeves. She kept counting her breathing up and down for another short minute. When she felt solid enough, Billie stood up and hurried back to the field, where the players were still sitting on the bench. She scanned the lot of them as she got closer. Danny was sitting next to Jackson and McCall, while Isaac was trying to make himself as small as possible on the other end of the bench. Before she could listen to her gut feeling and go ask the tall blond for a warm hug, Billie headed towards the co-captains decisively. There was still no sign of Stilinski.
Her dad came wandering in behind the pair right at that moment, praising the boys on the bench for their - apparent - camaraderie.
"Now, this is what I like to see, rivals turned allies. You know there's no 'me' in 'team,' right, boys?"
Scott, ignoring any kind of self-preservation instinct he might have, scrunched up his face and replied.
"Yes there is, Coach."
Why did he need to open his mouth? Stiles was rubbing off on him, and not in a good way! Billie wondered again where their spazzy friend was right now, growing worried. Meanwhile, with a - stronger than necessary - pat on the boys' backs, Coach carried on.
"Okay, smartass, how 'bout this - No A in Econ if no win on field? Good? Huh?"
This time, both boys had the decency and brains to stay silent.
"Perfect. Good."
He saw his daughter was back at his side, and motioned towards the field.
"Let's go."
Billie followed Coach onto the field, the two Finstocks bringing the team to them in a huddle.
"Huddle up! Let's go! Big night! Big night!"
Everyone on the team was nervous beyond anything possible, and Billie was jumping on the balls of her feet while her dad was sharing some last-minute game plans to his players. She was trying to keep her face on a more normal, nervous-but-excited expression, but her eyes kept darting back to McCall and Whittemore in the middle of the huddle.
"Ready? Say it so they can hear it! Hands in. What are we?"
Right. Lacrosse now, insanity later. She put her hand in with the rest of the team and shouted along, acting as motivated as she could.
"We are lacrosse!"
"All right, take the field! Let's go!"
The huddle broke up and the players took the field, Scott lingering behind for a moment near Billie, before taking his position, ready to go. And just like that, the whistle blew, and the game began.
A/N: That's it, we're here. FINALLY.
Things will change around Billie, very fast now. Hope you enjoyed this update. It only took 4 years to get it done!
Thanks for reading, love y'all!
