The Wild Side | Stiles Stilinski | One

1 - Prologue

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I shouldn't even have been nervous. Sure, I was sitting in a new school for the first time, totally by myself, waiting to be judged, but class wasn't even in session. In fact, school didn't start until tomorrow morning.

"Just a quick meeting with the school counselor, and then you can go home," I muttered under my breath.

And now I was talking to myself. Awesome.

My fingers picked absently at the loose threads in my ripped jeans. I glanced at the clock in the office again, internalizing a groan. My right leg bounced impatiently, the heels of my heavy, black boots thudding against the floor four times a second, the wood of the old chair I was sitting on creaking when I shifted every ten seconds, my eyes darting back to the clock every four...

"Miss Blake."

I jumped, my head snapping to the right to see the guidance counselor of Beacon Hills High School peering out from her office. She seemed nice enough: young, with long black hair and a neatly ironed pantsuit. She raised an eyebrow at my startled reaction, her mouth quirked up in amusement.

Great. And now the guidance counselor thought I was crazy.

"Uh, yeah," I managed with a shaky laugh. "That's me. Obviously..."

"I'm Ms. Morrell," she greeted, stepping further into the room and offering her hand.

I scrambled to my feet, pulling my purse onto my shoulder and accepting the handshake enthusiastically. "Scarlett, hi. Thanks so much for seeing me."

"Of course. Are you ready?"

"Yeah! Yeah, absolutely."

Ms. Morrell's counselor office looked almost exactly the same as the one at my last school. There were bookshelves packed to the brim with psychology books, degrees framed on the wall, cheesy motivational posters. I could've sworn that the patient chair was the exact same one, shipped here just to haunt me. Maybe all guidance counselors had to order out of the same catalogue. And therapists, for that matter.

"So, Scarlett," Ms. Morrell began, settling in behind her desk. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?"

"Oh, sure. Um..."

I bit my lip, wondering where to begin. Ms. Morrell was reviewing an open file on her desk, which was almost definitely my transcript. Even though I didn't have anything to hide, the thought of someone reading it made me nervous. I shifted around in the chair, and it squeaked just like the one in the hall.

"You may was well practice now," Ms. Morrell said, looking up from the pages with a knowing smile. "I'm sure you'll be asked constantly tomorrow."

I grimaced. The prospect of being attacked by questions from students and teachers all day was already making me nauseous.

"Okay, well, my name's Scarlett Blake. I'm a sophomore, new to Beacon Hills. My favorite subject is English, I like to think I'm pretty creative, and I spend entirely too much time on my computer."

"Nicely done," Ms. Morrell laughed. "I think you'll do just fine tomorrow."

I laughed along politely, trying desperately to pretend that her reassurance had helped in any way at all.

"So how do you like Beacon Hills so far?"

"It's nice," I answered simply. "I'm really enjoying myself. I didn't live far from here, so it's not a huge change or anything. Plus, we moved at the beginning of the summer, so I've had a little time to adjust."