Black Water ↠ Stiles Stilinski [Teen Wolf, Vol. One]

We Don't Need No Education

It's been......84 years.........But here's a new chapter!  Comments / reviews are always appreciated!

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Chapter 16 - We Don't Need No Education

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Patience was not a virtue Charlie carried in bulk. She fast-forwarded through commercials, she set slow pedestrians on fire in her mind, she damn near popped a blood vessel in her eye glaring at a stop light to make it turn green. No, her supply of patience was meager at best. It was a candy aisle the day after Halloween. But if you stacked it against Donald's, she was a freaking Costco.

Ding. Ding ding ding ding. Her phone exploded with notifications, each text message featuring inquiries that ran in a similar vein. What had she found out? Seriously, what had she found out? What was going on? Why wasn't she responding? Seriously, Oz, what the hell? OZ! OzOzOzOzOzOz! Do not underestimate how annoying I can be! OZZZZZZZZZZZ! Donald's need for answers seemed to surpass hers. But telling him to calm the hell down and wait would only invite a different flavor of indignation, so she muted her phone and kept her eyes trained on the map tracking Lydia's. The little red dot wound its way through the streets of Beacon Hills, approaching a somewhat familiar landmark. One that housed a nerd she found particularly irritating at present.

"I mean, I'm a mature adult," Mel declared, her voice breaking through Charlie's haze of focused distraction. "I'm a capable person. I run my own business, I'm responsible. Sure, I'm not completely certain that I'm doing my taxes right, but the IRS hasn't complained so far, so I think I've got that covered. Right?" She exhaled sharply. "Ugh, why am I asking you? You already know how to do taxes. But I am an adult in some ways."

"Hm?" Charlie mumbled, tearing her gaze from the phone. "Yeah, of course. It's all good."

An icy edge hid behind the golden brown of Mel's eyes as they met Charlie's in the rearview mirror. "Charlie, please don't turn me into one of those people who complains about teenagers being on their phones. Those people are obnoxious. I am determined to not be obnoxious."

With the push of a button, Charlie's phone screen darkened and she shoved it in her jacket pocket. The route of Lydia's phone had already been written—time to focus on her own. A street sign whizzed past, informing her they were fast approaching the school, a proximity which explained the uptick in Mel's commentary. Anxiety. Stiles could wait. Donald could wait. Mel needed her now. "Sorry," Charlie muttered. "Sorry, I'm a bit distracted with all the Lydia stuff."

The ice melted and Mel's features softened. At the mention of Lydia, guilt overwrote frustration in the crease of her forehead—not the expression Charlie had intended at all. "No," Mel shook her head. "Don't be sorry. I'm sorry. I'm the one here projecting all my—" she waved her hand absently "—all my insecurities on you. You're doing everything right. You've got straight A's. I'm dragging you along to make me more comfortable, and that's not fair."

"It's fine, Mel," Charlie protested. "Seriously, I'm happy to come. If I wasn't I would have complained—I'm very good at complaining. Something to do with inherent negativity....."

"Well your willingness, while appreciated, doesn't make me any less grateful," Mel said, angling a definitive nod in Charlie's direction. "I'm just not prepared to face a bunch of functional adults on my own."

Charlie scoffed. "Functional? Have you met Lydia's parents? If you put them in a room together it makes The Real Housewives look classy. Trust me, you're good."