Chapter Five
I play with my fingers, bending and twisting them, waiting outside the guidance counselor’s office. My poem sent me on a one-way trip to counseling, which I guess I should’ve seen coming. Apparently, I have some “severe psychological issues.”
A girl with strawberry blonde hair sits next to me, checking her appearance in the mirror. She reapplies a layer of pink gloss and puckers her lips. She’s been doing this for the past ten minutes, and it’s driving me slightly insane.
I throw up my hands. “You look fine, okay? Now would you stop fixing yourself? Please?”
She makes a face at me and narrows her eyes slightly. “Lydia Martin doesn’t need people to tell her she looks fabulous. She already knows that.”
Oh God, she’s one of those girls that refer to themselves in the third person. This should go well.
She examines me up and down. “Like seriously, where’d you get that outfit? Wal-Mart?”
Okay, I don’t understand why this girl needs counseling. Other than having a slightly bitchy attitude, she looks fine.
I cock my head to the side and bare my canines at her, which have grown by the anger rising slowly in me. “If you’re that concerned about body image, you’re not allowed to dish out insults.”
Her eyes widen and a knowing smile grows on her face. “Those shoes are cute. A bit too human for the supernatural, though.”
Beauty masks the secrets that lurk underneath.
I lean back in my seat, examining my stiletto heels. “How’d you know?”
“My boyfriend’s one too.” Her eyes have a faraway and dreamy look to them. I think I’m gonna be sick.
“Isaac?” He’s the only other werewolf I know― why else would he live in the same house as Derek and Peter? It’s not my ideal choice, but I don’t have anywhere else to go.
“Hell, no. You much be crazy.” She rolls her eyes at me and flips her perfect hair behind her, adding another layer of makeup.
I shake my head, ignoring her, and stare at my poem, reading the words over and over again. I can’t find any problems with it― I’ve experienced every degree of horror and this is just the top layer. I never want to delve into the inner layers again― especially the night everyone I loved died.
When Ms. Morell calls me into her office, I’m prepared to receive every pamphlet ever made on mental health. She holds out a slender hand and I pass her the notebook, staring at her black eyes, thinking that they’re a stranger color than violet.
Her eyes meet mine and she passes the notebook back. “You’re a talented poet, Aubrey. Do you know that?”
I shrug. “It’s just something to occupy my free time.” And I have a lot of that, being guarded by a pack of alphas.
“You should consider sharing it more often. C’est fantastique, mademoiselle,” she says.
I let out a laugh. “How’d you know I speak French?”
YOU ARE READING
Midnight Scarlet » Stilinski
Fanfiction[BOOK ONE] Aubrey Jenner isn't a normal fifteen-year old girl― in fact, she's as far from normal as you can get. She's a werewolf, destined to be with another. But when a human that knows too much about her world comes into the picture, how can she...
