bloodlust.

New Beginnings

Arianna's POV

I walked into a class of students all with their faces in books, brand new faces. My mom told me it would be a fresh start. I think it will be more like a new and different torture. Moving halfway across the country was bad enough but on top of that I had to start senior year at one of the most prestigious high schools in California. Everyone at Beacon Hills was some sort of over-achieving nerd. With my previous grades of Cs and Ds, I have no idea why Mom thought it would be a good school for me.

The only good thing about this whole mess was I didn't have to start a lot later than everyone else. So, no awkward introductions and maybe I'll even have a chance of making some new friends.

Never mind. These kids were looking at me like I was an alien. What was wrong? Was it what I was wearing? I look down at my oversized sweatshirt that said "Stop Killing the Whales", black denim jeans and combat boots. My caramel-colored hair was tied in a side ponytail. I also had on the white watch my dad had given me which I always wore.

Looking around I realize everyone's dressed pretty much the same: round glasses, blazers, khakis, polos, fancy shoes. Okay. Did I miss the fact that there was a dress code? Ugh. Now I would get in trouble on the first day of school. Thanks a lot, Mom.

I walk to the very back of the class just as the bell rings. The teacher stands up. I wonder where she came from. She was so small, she probably disappeared behind her desk.

A little later, a boy came in. Aside from the glasses, he wasn't dressed like the rest of the students. He was wearing a red hoodie, camouflage shorts and sneakers. I wonder how he ended up here.

"Stilinski!" The teacher shouted. It was funny how loud she was considering how short she was. "I was wondering where you were. You're late!"

"Sorry." He muttered and walked to the back and plopped down into the seat next to me. His pen dropped from behind his ear.

"Hey. Stilinski," I whispered loudly.

"It's Stiles," he snapped. He turned to me and his face softened a little.

"You dropped your pen," I said, taken aback. I turned away. Rude much?

"Hey, sorry. I'm in a terrible mood today. That's why I snapped at you. It's my mom's death anniversary." I turned to look at him. I could see his eyes, they were blood-red and worn out. But I had to admit, he still was kind of good looking.

"It's ok." I could feel my face burning. I looked away again and tried to tune into Ms. Nelson drone on about the AP Literature course guidelines.