And now, once again, it was clear that my look didn't fit in. That was obvious from all the khaki, fresh white Vans, and perfectly-trimmed, straightened hair, everywhere.
But it didn't bother me. It was exactly what I'd been aiming for. As always.
If I didn't fit in, then no one would pay attention to me. I'd be left alone to get through my sentence and be done with it.
So I'd thought.
Chapter Two
Lifting my eyes as I approached the front of the school, I was shocked at first by its gothic architecture. The building looked more like a regal, ivy-covered college than a public high school. I was used to poured-concrete structures built in the seventies, with dirty buckets in the halls collecting drips from the ceilings.
This place was better. Way better.
My mood lightened slightly as I moved up the granite steps at the front entrance. Two sets of stately double doors waited at the top with the words 'Lakefield High School' scrolled above them. My primary focus was on finding the main office and meeting with my guidance counselor for the typical 'new student' run-through.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I glanced toward a student leaning against the railing. His eyes met mine, and he watched me as I pulled on the door nearest my reach. I fumbled for a moment, distracted by his piercing gaze. His stare unnerved me like he knew me or was sizing me up.
I ground my teeth in annoyance. I'd already broken my cardinal rule of keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact at all cost.
The bang of the door behind me echoed into the long corridor, emphasizing the fact that the hallway was empty. Clearly, the students avoided entering the confines of the school until the very last minute. That was fine with me. I'd rather remain unseen in my lost wanderings while searching for the elusive office.
A white sign stuck out from the wall ahead of me letting me know exactly where to go, and I moved with purpose toward the office. Maybe there was a chance my meeting would be quick, and I'd get to class before the first bell. I hated walking in late. There was nothing worse than all eyes staring as the new kid searched for an empty seat.
Standing at the door, I took a deep breath and reached for the handle. As I pushed it in, I lost my balance as the door pulled open from within. Weightless, I stumbled forward and shuffled to avoid hitting the student who had just flung the door open, exiting at the exact same time.
He chuckled, holding the door steady to help me regain my balance. I swore under my breath and glanced up at him. There was no doubt he was a football player, judging by the way his broad shoulders filled the doorframe. His friendly eyes held mine, and I paused for a second staring at him, waiting for him to say something. My awkward hesitation threw me off, and I fumbled with my bag. It wasn't that he was beyond attractive and beautiful and handsome, but it was the fact that I'd looked at him at all.
What was the matter with me? I was breaking my first steadfast rule left and right. Keep head down, ignore everyone—was it really that hard?
It was weird, though, none of the other students drew my attention, but with those two guys, I couldn't help myself. It was like we already knew each other. It was the first time I ever felt anything like that before when entering a new school.
I pulled my gaze away, frustrated by my error, and focused on the desk ahead of me. The secretary watched with an annoying smirk like she'd caught me blushing or something. She dragged her pencil through her short, spiky hair, waiting for me to pull myself together.
Damn it.
I had to stop having eye contact with the students here. I was usually a master at avoidance, but clearly, something about Lakefield was making me crazy, throwing me off my game.
I'd have to try harder if I was planning on surviving my final year. Making connections of any form was not a part of my master plan.
"Can I help you?" the secretary probed. Her blank stare and monotone proved how much she loved her job. I half-expected her to snap on gum.
"I'm new here," I replied. "Brynn Douglas."
"Do you have an appointment?" she murmured.
"Umm, no. I didn't realize I needed one." I struggled to keep my tone civil. Her attitude was already grating on me. "I think my records were sent over."
She rolled her eyes.
"Have a seat." She let out a deep sigh as she pushed herself up from her chair. "I'll see who your counselor is."
She shuffled along a row of office doors and stopped outside the one at the end. After a few words, she headed back, taking her time for fear I might actually think she cared about me.
"Ms. Kelly can see you," she said, motioning her head in the direction of the office.
Obviously.
It's not like they'd leave a new student just hanging around. Didn't this woman know the drill?
But instead, I swallowed my cynicism and remained calm.
"Thanks," I forced the word and walked down the narrow hallway to Ms. Kelly's office.
I had no idea what to expect. I'd had so many different teachers and counselors throughout high school. Sadly, I expected the worst.
My last guidance counselor was an old dude. A hippie. He was nice enough but never stayed focused on what I needed. He was too busy talking about himself with a load of 'back-in-my-day' crap. I never went to him for anything after our first meeting, no matter how much I needed help.
"Hi. You must be Brynn," Ms. Kelly's friendly voice invited me in.
My eyes widened at the sight of her. She wasn't too young, but young enough that she was still vibrant and full of positive energy. I was a little surprised at how cool she seemed.
"Um, yeah."
"Come on in. I've been looking forward to meeting you," she said.
"Really?" I mumbled under my breath.
"Yes. Have a seat." She gestured to several options.
There was a chair right in front of her desk, one off to the side by the fidget toys, and another against the wall by the colorful pictures of former students, intriguing field trips, and amateur artwork. I sat in the chair directly in front of her without hesitation.
She smiled and continued. "Your transcript kept me busy," she teased. "It's choppy, with different variations depending on each school you've attended." She scanned the multiple pages.
My heart rate accelerated. This was the part where the counselor always challenged my credits or tried to put me in the grade below me. I mean, I was eighteen. Could it be more obvious that I was a senior? Either way, this moment was never smooth, and I prepared myself for the fight.
"It's clear to me, though," she added, "you're an exceptional student."
The breath I'd been holding since entering her office released from me in a long whoosh.
"Um, thank you," I whispered, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"At first, I was concerned that you had requested all AP courses, but after reviewing your academic records, I can see why. It appears that learning is one of your strengths." She watched me for a response.
I'd never considered having any strengths before, but somehow, the way she said it made it sound like a compliment. I had no idea how to react to it.
"I guess."
Maybe it was true. I had nothing else to focus on, so it made sense my school work would get my full attention. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that learning did come easy to me. The other students always had questions and struggled on the tests while I sailed through every hoop. It was one small blessing, I supposed.
Ms. Kelly gazed at me like she was trying to figure me out. But it was more than that. She looked into my soul like she could see more of me than I wanted to allow. I pulled my eyes away from her, feeling like it was my only way of hiding my true self. Her examination was unsettling, to say the least.
"Well, typically, I would be hesitant about having a new student take five AP classes, but judging from your perfect scores on last year's exams, I think you've got this." She smiled.
I couldn't believe it. It wa
s the first time a counselor had faith in me. Last year's hippie made me sign over-ride forms and practically swear away my firstborn to take their advanced placement classes. He probably never even took the time to see my past exam scores. That was how it always went. I was never around long enough for people to see my academic history at their schools. It was like they always had to take a leap of faith with me, assuming the wayward girl would follow the wrong path.
Ms. Kelly was different, though. She was more chill like she believed in me. Her loose sweater hung comfortably from her shoulders and her surfer-girl hair looked like she'd only just run her fingers through it that morning. I'd swear she probably had yoga pants on, but I couldn't see for sure. Her pretty face was non-judgmental, and I felt comfortable in her presence, even with her uncanny ability to stare straight into my naked soul. It was clear, I needed more armor.
She studied me with one eye squinted. "You forgot to wear gloves, right?"
I clasped my hands together and hid them between my knees. "Oh, um, yeah. Nerves, I guess."
"There's no way you can walk into class like that," she chuffed.
My face burned as I fought her surprising criticism.
"Here," she said, handing me a pump bottle of organic oil hand-lotion. "This stuff works magic. I use it on my hands all the time, and it's amazing." Her face lit up to the point of no refusal.
I squirted a generous amount of the white lotion onto my palms and rubbed it all over. She handed me a bunch of tissues, and I wiped all the purple-tinted mess off my hands.
"Oh my god. That's so much better," I gasped. "Thank you."
Most of the purple staining had lifted, leaving only a slight hue on my skin. The nails weren't great, but I could live with that. I relaxed ten-fold now, knowing I wouldn't be seen as a freak the moment I walked into class. Well, not a total freak.
I glanced up at her with gratitude splashed across my face. I mean, seriously, she's the first person who ever actually helped me on the first day of school. Like, actually helped me.
Then she said, "You're a sensitive person, aren't you?"
I pulled back.
Suddenly I wasn't so comfortable in her presence. She picked up on too much like she could read me.
I wasn't used to people prying into my privacy and asking me if I was an emotionally frail person. That was crossing the line. What the hell? Did I look like I was about to cry or something?
I struggled to find my words, and before I could reply with something that would shut her down and decide I was a write-off, she spoke again.
"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." She chuckled. "I mean, you are a sensitive." She hesitated on her next words, watching me fidget, then smirked. "And judging by the look on your face, you don't even know it."
What the hell was the difference? "You're a sensitive person," or "You are a sensitive." What the actual fuck? All I knew was she was getting too personal asking about my emotional stability, because, to be honest, it was dodgy.
I reached for the ends of my hair and twirled them. "Is it the purple? You think I'm unstable because of my hair color?" I glared at her, waiting for the same judgmental treatment I'd received from the secretary.
"No, not at all. Your hair color is amazing." She smiled with a warm glow in her eyes, winning me back almost instantly. "It's just a feeling I get from you like you perceive things differently from others. Like, you're more in tune with the world around you, more aware." She hesitated, studying me again. "Does the make sense at all?"
I stared back at her.
This was not the typical new-student-entry-meeting protocol. Now was the time she should be asking me about a bus pass, homeroom assignment, and giving me a copy of my schedule. But no. Not this time. This time my guidance counselor was asking me about how I perceived the world. She must be tripping.
But as I looked into her honest eyes, I saw more than the typical routine meeting. Her words then took a deeper meaning in my mind as I thought about them.
Yes.
Yes, I was more aware of subtle sensations around me. Yes, I could pick up on the deeper meaning of people's words or actions easily. It always scared me actually, because I typically believed everyone had that ability. It made me feel exposed, thinking that people understood me and my thoughts, the way I understood theirs.
Then I nodded with a shrug.
"Maybe," I said.
"Yes." She smiled. "I thought so. It's something I pick up on about people. It helps me to understand you better, which is a good thing, considering I'll be your school counselor for the rest of the year. It's best I know you as well as possible, so I can help you reach your goals."
"Oh." My breath blew out of me. "I get it. Okay." The tension in my shoulders released as I realized she was just trying to get to know me better, so she could be effective in her job. I huffed at myself for thinking she was diving into my mind, trying to pull my soul out through my eyes.
"So, what are your goals?" she asked. "What do you want to do when you graduate?"
I shrugged, clearing my mind of my earlier panic from her intrusive questions. "I don't know. I just want to finish high school and get my diploma."
"I see a lot more potential in you," she said.
Oh, here we go. She's getting personal again.
I thought for a minute about her comment and then realized it actually wasn't that bad. It was nice, even.
I remained silent, having no clue how to respond to a potential compliment, knowing that it was more likely she said that to everyone.
She went on. "Have you taken your SATs?"
My stomach clamped on itself. I knew I should have taken them last year, but I never stepped foot back in the guidance office to find out how. I couldn't afford it anyway.
"No, I didn't get a chance," I said
"Oh, well, that's a priority. You'll need to register right away, before the deadline for the October test." She wrote a website on a sticky note and gave it to me. "There's an additional thirty-dollar fee if you register late."
My eyes fell.
"What?" she asked. "Is payment a challenge for you?"
Wow. It was like she was psychic.
"Actually, yes."
"And that's why you didn't take them last year, as well?" she asked.
I nodded.
"Have your parents considered completing an application for free and reduced lunch? If they do that, then you will be able to get fee waivers for everything else." She waited for my reply.
"Well, it's just my mom, and she never gets around to doing the paperwork for my schools." I avoided eye contact as I waited for the pity party.
"Okay, let me take care of it," she said, reaching into a stack of papers and pulling out a form. "This is an SAT fee waiver. Use this code at the bottom when filling out the online registration. You should be all set." She passed the document to me. "Let me know of anything else you need assistance with. I have my ways of helping out." She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.
I couldn't hide my elated feelings, and a smile lit up my face. Taking the SAT was huge. It would bring me one step closer to my college dream.
"Oh, and as far as college goes," she added. "I have application fee waivers, too, and will help you navigate financial aid so we can find something perfect for you. Trust me."
My eyes lit up.
Holy shit.
Someone was helping me. I had no idea it was even possible to apply for college in my situation. My heart nearly burst out of my chest.
"Thank you so much, Ms. Kelly. This really means a lot to me," I gushed, nearly crying.
"Of course. That's what I'm here for," she said. Then after a brief pause, she added, "There's one thing I want you to do."
Oh, here it comes—the catch. There was always a catch.
She continued, "I want you to join my advisory group."
Say what now?
"What's that?" I crossed my arms.
"Every student at Lakefield is in an advisory group.
It meets once a week during X-block. Students can ask questions or raise concerns and basically build connections with other students they typically wouldn't associate with. It's a community-building initiative. I think you would fit in well with my group."
Interesting.
Particularly since I didn't fit in well... anywhere.
"I guess," I mumbled.
"No, I insist," she said, leaving no room for negotiation. "See you third block, X block."
Chapter Three
Keeping my eyes stuck to my schedule, I navigated the hallways like a champ.
The room numbers were fairly basic, all first-floor classrooms beginning with a one and second-floor starting with a two. Check. Wings A, B, C, and D—all major subjects, each with their own wing. Check. Turning into my first period class before the bell and bumping right into beautiful boy. Not check.
In my haste, I turned into my AP English class and bumped right into him as he was setting his backpack down.
"Sorry. Crap." I mumbled, shimmying past him.
"Oh, new girl," he pointed his finger at me in recognition and smiled. "Welcome to literary hell," he warned.
His smile left me temporarily blind and mute. Not knowing what to say, I kept my focus on my escape to the first available seat.
Settling in, I replayed his words in my mind. New Girl. Obnoxious. Literary hell. Okay, so this class must have a reputation of being a killer. Heads-up appreciated.
At least I had him to distract me from the torture.
What? No! Head down. No contact.
He remained turned around and his eyes stuck to me like glue but, I ignored him as best as possible.
What was his deal? Why couldn't he just ignore me? I clearly wasn't that interesting.
His attention wasn't the only thing smothering me, though. Two gorgeous girls sitting right behind him glared at me now, like they were his protective minions. Their perfect hair and make-up, and impeccable fashion sense, caused instant insecurity to poison my veins.
Ugh. I hated that feeling!
No matter how fake or mean I knew they were, their disapproving glares still always hit me in my self-loathing weakness.
Mystic Coven: Winter Wiccan (Supernatural Academy Graduates Book 2) Page 17
