Page 7 of Under the Influence

What a joke.

"Corinne Clark," my name is called from behind me, a young blonde peeking her head into the office from the hall. She reaches her hand out to shake mine, "I'm Hanna Mason, the guidance counselor here at Legacy. We're glad to have you. Let's take a walk, shall we?"

"Okay," I agree, following closely behind her down the hall. Students wave and greet her, and my curiosity starts to peak. Do these kids actually like her?

"So, Corinne. What are your interests? Do you have any hobbies? Legacy has tons of clubs and sports."

I roll my eyes. I'm here five minutes and already being recruited to "get involved." I jerk to a stop, "Actually, It's Cori. Just Cori, and no. No clubs, and no sports. I'm here for school."

She doesn't falter at my hatefulness. Instead, she grins, "Okay, Cori. You got it, only school. I'll let you in on a little secret though," she whispers, her best attempt at being sneaky. "The best way to survive here is to find your place, to find where you fit. Trust me when I say the outside is not where you want to be. Not in a place like this."

I wonder what she means exactly, as she shows me to the library and the gym, stopping outside a coach's office. "This is the dance⁠—"

I stop her before she even gets the sentence all the way out, "School." I grit, "Only school."

She nods, quickly passing by the rest of the rooms, before turning on her heels, jerking us to a stop. "Cori, I read your file."

A bubble of laughter erupts, "Uh-huh. What did you learn?"

She stares back at me, "I have a feeling there's a lot more to the story than I read."

She continues walking, and I speak, "Ms. Mason, don't make the mistake of thinking that the truth exists. Especially when the truth is based on nothing but a bunch of lies."

"Welcome to Legacy High," she smirks, pushing the cafeteria door open, "one big, beautiful lie."

I look at her. "Some introduction," I clap sarcastically. "You really sold me on the place."

"I'm just being real with you. It seems like you need it."

I like her.

My eyes scan the room, landing on a table of kids in the middle, windows surround the room, but I would swear that the sun hits that table differently.

I notice how they interact and everyone else seems inferior. Every school has one. I roll my eyes inwardly, and I know exactly where I don't want to be.

That's when one of the guys' heads turns my way, and I see him.

His long and messy blonde hair is shaved on the sides, and his white t-shirt hugs his biceps. He seems a foot taller than the last time I saw him, and he has filled out. A girl stands next to him, batting her eyelashes, attempting to squeeze between his legs onto his lap. His smile is bright but vanishes the second his eyes find mine.

He doesn't move, but his entire demeanor shifts. Everyone at the table turns to look my way, including my cousin, Jovie.

As usual, she throws a temper tantrum, stomping out of the cafeteria. Nash—I think it is—pushes the girl from between his legs, searing his empty eyes into mine before making a scene as he leaves too. The cafeteria door nearly breaks as it hits the wall, leaving everyone wondering what just happened. Myself included.

Ms. Mason draws her attention back to me, "Jovie will get used to you being here."

"Yeah," I agree, my mind still on the boy who nearly broke the door down to get out of my sight. Wondering who the hell pissed in his cheerios this morning. It was like the second his eyes landed on me, the ocean inside them turned black, and I was the water dousing his fire out.

The stares of the rest of the table are still bouncing off of me, one dark set of eyes nearly knocking me on my ass. I expect him to look away or turn his attention to what I assume is his girlfriend, but he doesn't, not until she stands to leave. With hearts in their eyes, most of the guys laugh at something she said.

I follow Ms. Mason out the door and back to her office.

"Here is your schedule," she smiles, handing the paper over. "If you have any questions, just let me know."

I shake my head in agreement, walking right back out her door. I shove the schedule down in the side pocket of my bag. I'm not very hungry, so I decide to skip the rest of lunch and walk outside for a little fresh air before taking on the last two classes.

The patio is decorated nicely and meticulously landscaped. Trimmed bushes, perfect flowers. I shake my head, glancing down at the brick pavers below my feet, the same pavers that graced the walkways of Brooks High School for the Performing Arts. I wrangle my mind away from my old school. The only way to move on is to stop from going back. Physically and mentally.

I step around the side of the building, away from the tables, and notice a few kids hanging out. A couple seated on the retaining wall and a few smoking behind the dumpster.