"He didn't recognize you, right?" Stiles blurts, making Brietta snap her head toward him with wide eyes. Scott, though, thinks for a moment before slowly responding, "No. N–No. I don't think so..."
              "Does she know about him?" Stiles continues, prompting Brietta to nudge him with a what the hell look as Scott's eyes widen when he realizes he has no idea if Allison knows about her family's status as Werewolf Hunters and begins to panic again, "Oh, yeah, I don't know. What if she does? They're gonna kill me, man. I can't."
              Brietta pats Scott on his face, eliciting him to focus on her, "Hey, nobody's gonna kill you. They have to go through me and Stiles before they do that." At Brietta's last sentence, Stiles looks at her with bulging eyes and then motions to his body, "Have you seen me? I'll be a headstart at best."
              "That's not helping," Brietta murmured, and Stiles sighed before looking at Scott, "Okay, just focus on lacrosse. Okay?" Stiles picks up the rest of Scott's lacrosse gear and thrusts it into Scott's hands, "Here, Scott. Take this. Take this, and focus on lacrosse for now, okay? That's all you gotta do, yeah?"
              "Lacrosse," Scott whispers while Stiles nods in encouragement and firmly pats Scott on the sides of his arms with his hands as he punctuates his next words, "Here. We. Go!"
              Brietta, Scott, and Stiles turn to leave the locker room, with Stiles accidentally tripping on his own feet and nearly falling to the floor in the process. Brietta snickers slightly as she watches Stiles brush off his fall. "You okay, Stiles?"
              "That didn't happen."
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BRIETTA INHALED DEEPLY AS THE LACROSSE PLAYERS RAN ONTO THE FIELD. "Let's go! One-on-one from up top! Jackson, take a long stick today. Atta boy." Coach instructed, and Brietta watched as Jackson got into position. If looks could kill, Scott would be six feet under due to Jackson's glare, and Jackson would be twenty—courtesy of Brietta.
              Coach blew his whistle and the players started tackling each other, Brietta didn't get the point of lacrosse—in her opinion, it was just a bunch of attractive guys running around and throwing balls, trying to impress someone they liked. But, if Stiles and Scott liked it, she could and would try to understand it.
              "That's how you do it! Greenberg, take a lap." Coach grimaced at Dominic Greenberg as the teenager huffed and started running around the field. If you asked Brietta, that was the highlight of her day.
              Brietta tilted her head and called out to Coach. "Hey, uh, Coach, Greenberg looks like he's slacking, doesn't he?" Brietta watched as Coach turned to Greenberg and yelled, "Faster, Greenberg!" 
              Brietta chuckled, shaking her head. She had grown a profound hostility towards Greenberg ever since he asked her on a date, just to never show up. Stiles and Scott had to pick up the furious—at the time—fourteen-year-old.
              "Let's go. McCall, what are you waiting for? Let's go." Brietta turned to Scott who was currently spaced out until Coach blew his whistle in front of Scott. The Werewolf ran towards Jackson with motivation until Jackson threw him back, making Brietta and Stiles wince.