Influenced

Chapter 1

“Don’t freak out… Don’t freak out…. Don’t freak out….”, I whisper to myself as I pull into the parking lot of my new school. My knuckles were white and shaking as I grip the steering wheel between my hands. My heart is in my stomach, giving me a nauseous feeling that I can’t overcome. This is just like any other Monday morning, right? For any other senior girl, it might be. But not for me.   

I am going to be the freak of the school, I could just feel it. Transferring in the middle of the year, especially senior year doesn’t exactly land me with the ‘Miss Popularity’ title. The only title I would be getting would be ‘Teacher’s Pet’ due to my 4.0 GPA.

My shaking hands reach over to my pocket book, resting in the passenger’s seat, plucking my phone off of the top. I unlock the screen to see a text from Blake, making my heart flutter as a smile appeared. Blake and I had been dating for a wonderful two years now. Our parents had been best friends ever since I was born. When each of our parents had learned of the others’ academic excellences, neither of us really had a choice but to date.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I love Blake. He treats me with the respect I deserve to be treated with. He treats me like a princess, and is always there when I need him. And I needed him now more than ever.

From: Blake

Hey, baby, I hope you have an amazing first day. Our whole class will miss your wisdom ;) .xx love you

I smile, before typing a quick ‘I love you’ back, and throwing the phone back into my bag, and picking up my lip gloss. I smear it across my bottom lip, rubbing my top lip over it as I throw the lip gloss back into my coach bag.

“Oh, shoot!”, I curse under my breath as I catch a glimpse at the clock. 8:01 A.M. Late on the first day, Yay, I think sarcastically.

I jump out of my black jeep, grabbing my pocketbook out of the passenger seat before grabbing my Jansport book bag out of the back. I curse at myself as I pace across the parking lot towards the school.

Once I am in the school, I pull my schedule and map of the school out of my pocket book as I continue to walk down the long, empty hallway of my new school. My first class was ‘European History’ with Dr. Mitchell. My eyes shift to the map in my other hand to find Dr. Mitchell’s room, which was room 203.

Five minutes and four wrong turns later, I arrive at Dr. Mitchell’s room. I couldn’t see inside the classroom due to the frosted glass in the doorway, but I knew it was his room due to his name printed in bold black letters across the glossy surface. My eyes clamp shut as I take a deep breath, twisting the brass knob, entering the classroom.

The noises of talking and laughing fill the crowded room as I take a step in. Everyone seems to stop, their eyes drifting to me. “Late on the first day, Miss Weaver?”, a deep male voice asks. My head leaves the intimidating glares of my peers to meet the teacher. He was an older bald man, his voice gruff and harsh. This was not going well. My heart was in my throat as I answered.

“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”, I answer, sincerely. I could promise this wouldn’t happen again. I had never been late before in my entire life.

Well, I take that back. I had been late once in third grade when my mother had overslept, forcing me to walk three miles to school in the Connecticut rain. But that was miles away and years ago. Although, right now, I would rather be there.

“Make sure it doesn’t..”, he replies, sternly, looking over his glasses resting on the brim of his nose. I nod before looking around for a desk that wasn’t taken. Two empty seats were placed in the back of the room, neither of them looked claimed. I walked to the back, taking one of them. I place my book bag neatly beside my desk before glancing around to look have a first real look at my class.