Thursday, Stiles' place, 10:14 am
Stiles' POV

Today's the day. Every second I get out of bed, I feel like the universe is always ready to take me on. Or the other way around.

We have Mike's funeral today after school.

Now that I think about it, it was Mike's birthday at midnight. I never got to say "happy birthday". I can't believe I forgot my own best friend's birthday.

As I'm getting ready to head out of the door, I look at my parents photo. It was the day of my 11th birthday. Dad had just came back from the army.

Sunday, March 10th, 1980
Beacon Hills, California

Stiles' mom, Claudia, is in the kitchen preparing for Stiles' birthday cake. Stirring the flour, eggs and cacao powder in a wooden bowl with a wooden ladle. She's wearing a black apron, with striking pink stripes like peppermint candy.

Her shiny, curled brown hair is put up in a perfect bun along with two front hair pieces dangling on one side and the other.

"Stiles, can you come in the kitchen for a second?" Claudia yells into the living room where young Stiles had been watching tv.

"Yes, ma'am." Stiles answered in a respectful tone. "What do you need, mama?"

"Can you help me finish stirring the ingredients, honey? You see, I'm not feeling too good." Claudia adds holding her hand to her head.

"Are you okay, mama?" Stiles asks in a concerned way, holding up her arms and giving a worried look.

"Just start stirring, Stiles." She points to the bowl with her other hand on her forehead and walks away.

Stiles lets go of her and returns to the ladle.

Claudia walks and stands behind Stiles and watches him stir the cake ingredients.

"Are you sure you're okay, mama? I will be just fine if you won't be able to prepare the ca-"

"Rawr!"

Stiles gets interrupted as soon as Claudia grabs him and starts making playful monster noises and grumbles while she's tickling him.

"You fell right into my trap, vermin child! Now I'm going to eat you up and put you into a scrumptious pie!" Claudia playfully yells in a deep monster-like voice.

"Haha, no, stop it, it tickles!" Stiles giggles while covering his stomach to prevent Claudia from tickling him.

"You can't escape me, Stiles! It's time to bake you!" Claudia adds and blows raspberries into Stiles' stomach.

Stiles giggles once more and Claudia lets go of him.

Then, Stiles puts on a sad face.

"Honey? What's the matter? Aren't you having fun?" Claudia asks in a sincere tone.

"I am, mama.. it's just.. I wish Daddy were here. He should be here on my birthday." Stiles replies in disappointment.

Claudia deeply sighs and hugs him. "I know, honey. Don't you worry, now. Daddy will be home soon before you know it."

"I hope so." Stiles says in a hopeful tone.

Present day, at NYU
Stiles' Literature Class

"Alright, class, today is Friday, so I hope you all know what that means!" Mr. Dunbar, our English teacher, exclaims as he writes on the chalkboard.

Believe it or not, Mr. Dunbar is my least favorite teacher. He's always hollering at the beginning of class, making the chalkboard sound like a dying seagull, and slapping everyone's back really hard at the end of class. But I guess everyone has their own opinion.

"Anyone.. no one? If you won't say it, I will! Today is—!"

"Slicky Shakespeare Day." The whole class, including me, say weakly and groan as Mr. Dunbar beams.

What is "Slicky Shakespeare Day", you ask? I'll let Mr. Dunbar explain this one.

"See, that wasn't so hard. As you all should know, every Friday, everyone is required to stand before the class, and recreate your favorite Shakespeare line and act it out as it sounds to you." He informs us happily while talking in a Greek accent.

"But he wasn't Greek." A student in the back states.

"I'm sorry?" Mr. Dunbar asks sarcastically while folding his arms.

"Shakespeare wasn't Greek. Why did you say that as if you were of "Grecian culture"?" The student adds, mocking Mr. Dunbar.

The class all share a laugh, except me.

"I see we have a current Joker in the class today. One more foolish remark, and that's detention, young man." Mr. Dunbar informs the student, glaring down from his glasses.

"Now, who would like to represent Shakespeare today? Speak now, or forever hold your peace— no, I'm just kidding." Mr. Dunbar adds jocosely.

Mr. Dunbar chuckles lightly and sheepishly, before sighing and muttering, "Jeez, tough crowd."

Everyone quickly raises their hands.. especially him. Timothy Baxter. That one kid who always reads so slow, you'd have grown cobwebs on your eyes by the time he's done. He's a great student though.

"Let's see here... Timothy. Can you please represent ol' Shakespeare for all of us today?" Mr. Dunbar asks him with a smile.

Timothy rushes to the front of the class with a smile spreading on his face.

But before he could speak, Principal Lamberton enters the classroom. "Excuse me. Sorry for the interruption. I am told to make sure Stiles Stilinski is available after hours today. Just to let you know ahead of time."

I raise my eyebrows in curiosity and nervousness.

"Of course, thank you for addressing that." Mr. Dunbar replies affirmatively.

The principal nods and shuts the door on his way out.

"Okay, Timothy, where were we?"

My face slowly falls to the desk.

"What now?" I think to myself.

After school hours

Not knowing where I'm supposed to be going, I decide to sit on a bench at double doors outside of the school.

I sit there and twiddle my fingers while trying to whistle.

"Come with me." The principal pops out of the door gesturing his hand for me to follow him.

If you can't tell, I'm freaking out, but on the inside. Yes, I know, I freak out a lot.

As I'm walking with Principal Lamberton, I'm making small talk. Just to ease the tension. To be exact, my tension.

"So, uh, how's your day going? Anything, uh, new happening?" I ask awkwardly.

"Nothing as new as today." He replies with a sigh.

I slightly nod.

"Let me guess, you're trying to break down your nervous tension and making it seem like there's tension in general by making small talk." He states, narrowing his mouth to the side like he ate something sour.

"..No. Okay, yeah. Wait, how did you guess?"

"You always do that." He adds, making that same expression before stopping in front of the door of the sheriff's office.

"I hope you're not in serious trouble. But, of course it's none of my business. Good luck, Stilinski." He interprets, then holds open the door.

I gulp before heading inside.

Ironically, it's just like my dad's office back home. It even has a brown, marbled coffee mug on the desk that says, "World's Best Sheriff," like he'd always have displayed next to his paperwork.

Suddenly, the sheriff pops out of nowhere.

"Are you Stiles Stilinski?" He asks while squinting down at a folder with glasses, overflowing paperwork.

"Yes, sir." I nod.

He looks up from the folder and gestures his fingers for me to follow him.

Then I do exactly that.

We walk straight down in a hallway with bland, tan wallpaper. Small wooden desks with lamps on top.

Then we finally get to a room with a cell. And there's someone inside.

"Look who I found."

Annnd it's Trevor.

Okay, what the hell did I just walk into?

"Uh.. what's going on, sheriff?" I ask curiously with a gulp.

"I found this little delinquent roaming the streets with a knife. He told me it was your knife, and that you had gave it to him. Is this true?"

I look at him and it grinds his teeth, trying to persuade me into lying.

I smirk, and look back at the sheriff with a big smile.

"No, sheriff. I've never seen that knife before in my life." I tell him proudly.

"That's what I thought." The sheriff says, putting his arms crossed.

"No, what? He's-he's lying! You little shit! Just wait until I'm out of here."

"That's double time, Mr Tracey!"

Okay, I know he's making threats, but come on, his last name is Tracey. Screw carrying a knife around, he should be in jail because of his last name.

I snickered a little.

"Have a good day, Stilinski." The sheriff says with a smile, walking me out.

I'll try.

As I head into my jeep, thoughts are circling through my mind. What I'm going to say, and what I'm going to when I get there.

For the first time in a while, I'll be going back to my home. My true home.

I don't even know what Scott looks like now. Ever since I let, I never saw his face again.

But no time like the present.

Problem is I don't feel like the present is the right time.