fade ➹ (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter 24

I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF. Only Melanie and her plot lines.

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We had all lamely shoved ourselves into Mr. Harris' classroom. Our minds all working together in unison, attempting to find any possibly way out of here. There had to be somewhere, somehow.

Stiles and I were sitting on the ground in the far corner of the room. His arm draped around me as I lazily rested my head on his shoulder. Our hands connected and my eyelids closed. Yet, I wasn't going to sleep. Just admiring this comfortable position.

"Jackson, how many people can fit in your car?" Asked Scott, barley above a noticeable whisper.

"Five." Jackson exhaled, "If somebody squeezes on someone's lap."

"Five?" Allison narrowed her eyes at the overdeveloped lacrosse player, "I barely fit in the back."

"And there are six of us anyways." I murmured, opening my eyes and lifting my head slightly. Nobody seemed to mind the position Stiles and I were in. For they were all caught up in their own thoughts and issues to even acknowledge us.

"It doesn't matter," Stiles shook his head gently, "There's no way of getting out without drawing attention."

"What about this?" Asked Scott, pointing towards a fire escape type invention, "It leads to the roof. We can use the fire escape to get to the door and we'll be out of here in like— seconds."

Stiles and I departed from our comfortable place, the pale boy and I strolling over to Scott as he tapped on the odd extension lightly, "Dead bolt."

"The janitor has a key? I can get it off him." Scott questioned, now bringing his voice to a low whisper, "By scent."

I cringed, hearing the word janitor for the hundredth time tonight.

"Okay, that sounds like an incredibly terrible idea. What else you got." Stiles rubbed his hands together, raising a curious eyebrow.

"I'm getting the key." Scott told us, walking past Stiles and I. The both of us merely exchanging an uneasy look, before turning our attention back to the room of teenagers.

"Are you serious?" Allison shrieked quietly, grabbing his broad shoulder. "You can't go out there unarmed!"

Scott glanced around, soon pathetically picking up a long yellow finger pointer. Mr. Harris would use it to occasionally point at things, mainly just slapping it vigorously on the students desks. Coming dangerously close to my hands at one point.

"Really?" I chuckled, shaking my head.

Scott just simply shrugged, "It's better than nothing."

"There's got to be something else." Said Stiles.

"There is." Lydia murmured to herself, making her way over to the chemistry closet. Oh thank God, her intelligent mind seriously becomes helpful in dangerous situations.

"What are we going to do? Throw acid on him?" Stiles sarcastically remarked.

"No. More like a fire bomb." She snapped sassily, tracing her fingers across the glass cabinet. "There's everything you need to make a self igniting Molotov Cocktail."