Dark Side of the Moon

I didn’t get much sleep. Any would probably be the more appropriate word. When Stiles dropped me off, I climbed up to my window, tossed myself in, and the worrying commenced.

What was that thing in the forest? Where was Scott? Did that thing get him? Did he find the other half of the body? The questioned poured into my mind and I couldn’t get them to cease.

My alarm clock chirped at six and I got up immediately for something to do. I took longer doing my hair and ironing my clothes then I probably would have, but under the circumstances I deemed it necessary. I blared my music, trying to drown out my thoughts, without success.

So at seven, when Stiles arrived, it was welcomed with more enthusiasm than usual.

“Morning.” I chided as I tossed my backpack in the back, and then stole the front seat.

Stiles looked as though he had had about as much sleep as me and—with the looming prospect of school—I could tell he was not in the mood for pleasantries, or manners. He grumbled something about school and put the car into reverse.

“School’s finally here!” I smiled brightly, annoying him further.

“Ugh. Don’t say the ‘S’ word in my presence.” He rubbed his eyes sleepily.

“Hey, at least you have lacrosse to look forward to.” I said reasonably. He tilted his head to the side in resigned agreement but still seemed to be disgusted by the fact that I was happy about school.

I watched him fumble around with the radio for a few minutes, something he did when he was agitated. I swatted his hand, earned a glare, and set it to his favorite channel. “Have you heard from Scott?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

He cleared his throat, “I’m sure he got home okay.” So, that was a no.

“I saw something last night.” He stopped jerkily at a stop sign and glanced at me with concern.

“Something like a sweet innocent puppy or a crazed body chopping murderer?” He questioned uneasily.

“It looked more like a wolf, I guess.” I shrugged. He nodded in understanding and blow out a sigh of relief. “But it could have been a crazed body chopping murdering wolf; it was hard to tell in the dark.”

“Ha ha.” He snorted, turning his blinker on as we pulled into the school parking lot. I scanned the lot for Scott but he wasn’t to be seen. Every other person who went to our school seemed to be there but him.

I watched kids greet each other with hugs and handshakes, showing off their first day of school outfits, or just grossly making out with their lacrosse captain boyfriends. I felt like dry heaving as I watched Lydia and Jackson get it on in front of the school doors, praying the principal would come out and give them detention.

Stiles halted in his usual parking spot and pulled the keys out of the ignition. I observed the way he nervously gazed out at the green full of our classmates. I knew he was looking for Scott and wishing he could have stayed to find him last night.

“He’s here!” Stiles cried suddenly, laughing in relief. My eyes followed to where he was pointing and saw Scott, safe and sound, locking his bike to the bike rack. We jumped out in unison and ran up to Scott.

“Scott!” I squealed, throwing myself on him with a hug. I then proceeded to punch him as hard as I could.

“Ow.” He grunted, rubbed his arm.

“Where the hell did you go last night, dude?” Stiles interrogated. Scott threw up his hands surrender.

“Whoa, what’s with the third degree?” He joked, I shook my head despairingly.

“You asshole,” I punched him again; “we thought you had been murdered!”

“I’m fine.” He smiled reassuringly.

“Come here, you.” Stiles pulled him into a hug, ruffling up his hair. I laughed at the sight of Stiles mock emotional affection and Scott attempting to push him off.

“What happened to you last night?” Stiles asked casually as though he hadn’t just attacked Scott with hug.

“Well we got split up and then I dropped my inhaler as I ran so I had to stop and look for it. I heard something in the trees and when I turned to see what it was, this thing attacked me,” He lifted up his shirt to show a heavily bandaged wound.

I clasped my hands to my mouth hard. “Oh my God! Are—are you okay?” it was Stiles turn to get hit, “I told you we should have stayed and looked for him!”

“Okay, ow,” He cried, massaging his side, “Was it a wolf? Mason said she saw one last night.”

Scott shrugged, “I guess. I didn’t really get a great look at it on account of it kinda just biting me and running away.

“Let me see it,” I tried to lift up his shirt the see the wound but he pushed my hand away.

“Ow!” He grunted, “It’s fine, I cleaned it and everything.”

“Did you really clean it? That could get really infected.” I scolded.

“Yeah, it might turn black and fall off.” Stiles mocked.

“Do you want to be punched again?” I seethed. Stiles crossed his arms protectively over his chest and fell silent.

“Just let me see it.” I asked relentlessly to Scott.

“Mase, it’s fine,” He laughed, “Really!” He added at the unconvinced expression on my face.

“She’s not going to hurt you. Mason’s like pre-med. She’s practically a certified doctor.” Stiles chimed in, hoping if he was on my side I wouldn’t beat him.

I rolled my eyes but said, “Fine. If you die from some flesh eating virus, it’s on you.”

Scott chuckled, thinking this conversation was over. “Or, rabies,” I continued. “Did you know that ninety-seven percent of rabies cases are from dog bites? Early symptoms include insomnia, abnormal behaviors, and paranoia.” I began to walk towards to school doors as the bell rang. “Death usually occurs after two days of the first symptoms and even with treatment there is only about an eight percent survival rate.” I said casually, watching Scott’s eyes widen.

As I walked up the stairs I could hear Scott ask, “She’s messing with me, right?”

“Those seem like pretty real statistics, Bro. You might wanna get that checked out.” Stiles said with a straight face, following in the footsteps.

“Fuck you, guys.” He muttered, though still looking worried. I caught Stiles’ eye and cracked a smile. He shook his head, laughing silently as Scott caught up, looking annoyed.

“You know, I think agitation is another early-on symptom.” Stiles said casually, giving Scott a meaningful look, as though this was the last time they would see each other.

“I do believe you are correct, Stiles.” I agreed as Scott stormed past us.

“I don’t have rabies.” He muttered and slouched off to our homeroom, Stiles and I held onto each other for support from laughing.

“If you start to feel afraid of water, you should head to the nearest rabies center!” Stiles howled.