𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘
chapter three

        The stadium buzzed with excitement on the first night of the game, a palpable energy coursing through the crowd like an electric current as Celeste made her way through the throng of cheering fans. It was an atmosphere of anticipation, the smell of popcorn and hot dogs wafting through the air, mingling with the chill of the evening breeze. She had introduced herself to Chris Argent, Allison's father, who had come to support Scott. He was a tough man with a hard exterior that suggested he had seen his fair share of battles, but Celeste couldn't help but notice the softer undercurrent of love he held for his daughter. The pride that shone in his eyes whenever he mentioned Allison felt almost palpable, a testament to the close-knit bond between father and daughter. As they settled into their seats, Chris's intensity was tempered by the warmth of their shared experience, a father watching his child flourish.

         Lydia, who had sprinted off to "torment" Scott somewhere on the field. Just as she was about to settle in, Lydia returned, a mischievous grin plastered on her face. "Scott, I just want you to remember one thing tonight," she said, her voice serious, as she tugged on Scott's jersey.

            "Uh, winning isn't everything?" Scott guessed, his brow furrowed in concentration, though the slight nervousness in his voice indicated he wasn't entirely sure of himself.

            "Close, but no," Lydia retorted, flicking her hair back with a confident smirk. "Nobody likes a loser." With that, she strode off toward her friends and their fathers, leaving a slightly bewildered Scott in her wake.

               As the game kicked off, the atmosphere reached a fever pitch. Celeste cheered loudly with every point scored, her excitement palpable as the team raced up and down the field. She felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins, each play igniting her spirit. But as the first half unfolded, she began to notice a disturbing trend: Scott wasn't getting the ball. Frustration simmered within her, a knot forming in her stomach as she exchanged concerned glances with Allison, who was nervously biting her lip from the bleachers.

         When halftime arrived, the players huddled together, and Celeste caught snippets of their conversation. The captain's voice rose above the din as he laid out his plans. "Remember, don't pass to McCall," he instructed.

          "Which one is Scott again?" Chris asked, his brow furrowed with confusion as he tried to spot his daughter's boyfriend among the mass of jerseys.

           "Number 11. Otherwise known as the only one who hasn't caught a single ball the entire game," Lydia scoffed, her concern for Scott evident beneath her teasing facade.

            "I hope he's okay," Allison said, her worry creasing her brow as she watched Scott from a distance. Gently, Celeste placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to soothe her unease. "It's probably just the nerves," she reassured.

           "We need to win this," Lydia chimed in, her focus sharpening as she turned to Allison and Celeste. "Allison, Tess, a little help here?" She gestured toward the large support sign they had made for Jackson, and the two girls quickly held it up, their enthusiasm infectious. Lydia's grin was bright as they displayed the sign, and soon the crowd erupted with cheers and instructions directed at Scott as he struggled to regain control of the ball right in front of the goal.

          Among the roar of the crowd, Celeste caught sight of Allison whispering, "You can do it, Scott," over and over, her voice a calming mantra amidst the chaos. The energy in the bleachers was electric, and Celeste found herself joining in the encouragement, her voice rising with the rest of the crowd. Scott's focus was palpable, and as he pulled himself back together, she could sense the determination emanating from him.

         In a final moment of clarity, Scott took the shot, and time seemed to stretch in that breathless instant. The ball sailed through the air, and just as the buzzer rang, it found the net. The crowd erupted into an explosion of cheers, applause, and wild screams of joy, a wave of sound washing over them. Celeste and Lydia leaped from their seats, exhilaration surging through them as they rushed toward the field, adrenaline coursing through their veins.

           Scott's teammates celebrated wildly, and as Celeste made her way around, congratulating everyone, her eyes scanned the jubilant faces. She was filled with pride for her friends, but her heart ached with admiration for Scott's resilience. Then, she spotted Stiles, who was still being congratulated by his dad, a proud smile stretched across his face.

         "Congrats, guys!" she called out to the team, her enthusiasm spilling over before she strode over to Stiles. She poked him lightly on the shoulder, her eyes sparkling with joy. "Congrats on the win, Stiles!"

       Stiles froze at the sound of her voice, turning around, surprised. "Thanks, uh. I didn't help much, you know," he replied, his usual stammer creeping in, making him all the more endearing.

       Celeste smiled, her warmth radiating from her. "Well, you're still on the team, so congrats!" The sincerity in her tone seemed to put him at ease, and he returned her smile, his cheeks flushing slightly.

           "Thanks a—again," he managed to say, the hesitance in his voice only endearing him further.

         As she turned to leave, a sense of giddiness filled her, but then she heard Lydia calling for her. Celeste looked back and saw her friend waving energetically. "Coming!" she mouthed back, the excitement bubbling within her. She turned toward Stiles one last time, her heart racing as she felt an inexplicable connection between them.

              "Bye!" she said brightly, stepping forward and hugging him tightly. The moment felt electric, filled with an unspoken understanding and a rush of emotion that left her breathless. Stiles stood there, mouth agape as he hugged her back, the warmth of the moment lingering as Celeste pulled away. She turned, laughter bubbling in her throat, feeling lighter than air, as if the game had somehow changed everything, even if only for a fleeting moment. As she joined Lydia, the night felt infused with possibility, the thrill of the game and the camaraderie of their friendship still hanging in the air. Celeste couldn't help but steal glances back at Stiles, whose expression was still dazed, as if he were processing the brief yet electric moment they had just shared.

           The sun had slipped away, leaving behind a sky painted with deep shades of indigo and twinkling stars that dotted the vast darkness. The warm glow of the high school's lights flickered like fireflies, illuminating the entrance just as the double doors swung open. Out stepped two figures, one male and one female, their hands intertwined in a gesture of youthful intimacy. The girl giggled, her laughter ringing through the night air, and her eyes sparkled with mischief as she looked up at him.

           "Where are you taking me?" she asked, still laughing, her voice bright and teasing. The boy, grinning widely, turned to her, a playful glint in his eyes as he replied, "Somewhere we can be alone." He led her away from the bustling crowd of students heading home, guiding her through a narrow aisle between two parked school buses, their excitement a bubble of shared secrets in the cool night air.

              "We are alone," she reminded him, arching an eyebrow with a playful smile. "Somewhere where we can be more alone," he insisted, a hint of urgency lacing his tone as he opened the bus door and helped her inside. The interior was dimly lit, shadows dancing across the walls, and they settled onto opposite seats, their gazes locked as they stared at one another, the world outside forgotten for a moment.

         Then, with a shared spark of unspoken desire, he caved in, moving toward her. Their lips met softly at first, but the kiss quickly escalated, fueled by the intoxicating rush of young love. But suddenly, something shifted within him. He felt a deep, primal urge surging up from his core, his claws beginning to emerge, ripping through the fake leather seats with a sound that shattered the fragile moment.

          "What's wrong?" the girl asked, pulling back, her brow furrowed with concern as she hovered in the thickening tension. He breathed heavily, his heart racing as he tried to regain control. "Get away," he gasped, shifting away from her, panic flashing in his eyes as he struggled to suppress the change that was overtaking him.

     She repeated his name, her voice laced with confusion and fear. The boy turned to face her, fully transformed now, his eyes glowing a fierce amber in the darkness of the bus. "Get away from me!" he shouted, his voice a low growl that echoed in the confined space.

             Terrified, the girl scrambled to the front of the bus, but he was faster, his grip like iron as he caught her ankle and yanked her back. She fell forward, clutching desperately at the chairs in a futile attempt to break her fall, but he overpowered her easily. In a surge of adrenaline, she managed to kick him away, sending him stumbling back toward the rear doors of the bus, giving her just enough time to scramble toward freedom.

            With panic coursing through her veins, she shoved her fingers through the door's opening, desperate for escape as she yelled for help, her voice a raw plea that echoed into the night. She was nearly out when he lunged forward, his hand clamping over her mouth to muffle her screams. The world around them faded into a chilling silence, the playful innocence of their earlier moments shattered by the overwhelming darkness that now loomed over them, transforming a night of youthful adventure into a terrifying fight for survival.

                    At the very same time, Celeste lay on her bed, her room bathed in a soft, silvery glow from the moonlight streaming in through her window. She traced her finger over the faint, fading letters on her wrist, the word "BUS" now nearly dissolved into her skin. She couldn't shake the feeling of its lingering weight, like a whisper that refused to leave her mind. The letters had appeared out of nowhere, as if they had been etched by some unseen hand. She sighed, feeling an inexplicable tug of worry, her mind spinning with questions she couldn't answer. It felt as though this fading word held a mystery just out of reach, a secret that whispered in the silence of her room. Her heart beat a little faster, and she closed her eyes, the word blurring beneath her fingers as she let herself drift, a quiet unease settling over her as sleep finally claimed her. Whatever that was supposed to happen- happend.