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Under The Influence © 2012, PureAwesomeness67
This book, “Under The Influence” including all chapters, epilogues and associated content is copyrighted. All rights reserved by the owner and creator of this work and any unauthorized copying, broadcasting, manipulation, distribution or selling of this work constitutes as an infringement of copyright. Any infringement of this copyright is punishable by law.
Disclaimer: Any references made from any TV shows, books, movies, poems, or music is not owned by me. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales is entirely a coincidence.
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“I had a feeling I’d find you here.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the chair across the table from where I was sitting being pulled out, swiftly turned around, and straddled. I didn’t even have to look up from my History textbook to know who it was. I could tell solely by the voice that it was my brother, Scott.
An exaggerated “Shhh!” was aimed at my brother, and it had come from one of the few other students that spent their lunch period in the library, studying or reading.
I used my index finger to mark the paragraph I was just reading so when I continued to read, it would easy to pinpoint exactly where I left off. I finally glanced up and caught my brother rolling his eyes at whoever just shushed him. His arms were resting on the back of the chair—one on top of the other, almost like he was crossing them—and his head was propped up on his arms. Scott stared at me, probably waiting for my reaction.
“Scott, what are you doing here?” I whispered. It wasn’t every day that my twenty-two year old brother came to visit me at school.
An amused grin lit up his face. “Are you—“
“Shhh!”
He sighed. “Are you reading you History textbook? For fun?” Scott asked incredulously, trying his best to tone down his naturally loud voice. Before I knew what he was doing, Scott flipped to the front cover just to check, and his lips pulled into a broad smirk. “You are!”
I looked down instead of at my brother, because getting caught reading a textbook when it wasn’t actually necessary wasn’t the coolest thing to be caught doing, if you know what I mean. “What? No I’m not!” I replied a little too quickly. I was a terrible liar and we both knew it. “I, um, I have a test next period.”
“Uh huh,” he said dubiously.
“I wasn’t reading it for fun. I was reading it…for lack of better things to read.” Now that was true. What? Learning new things wouldn’t hurt.
I could tell he was trying to stifle a laugh. “You are such a nerd,” he said, smirking teasingly at me.
I couldn’t help but grin at him. He just had that effect on people. Then, I realized that he was acting like his regular, carefree self. It had been a while since he cracked a grin, and to be honest, I started to miss his smile. He hadn’t been the same after the accident.
I noticed that when he smiled, his hazel eyes twinkled. I always found it weird how I had Dad’s looks and Scott had Mom’s, but when it came to our personalities, it was quite the opposite.
“What and you’re not? Last time I checked, I wasn’t the one who stayed up late, bidding on a special edition Green Lantern lantern on eBay.” My brother was the only person I ever talked to like that. Because…well, because he was my brother.
He furrowed his eyebrows, considering it. “Touché,” he conceded.
“So, um, what are you doing here?”
He placed a solid green lunchbox on the table in front of me. “You left your lunch at home. I knew that if I didn’t bring it, you wouldn’t eat the whole day.” Scott was probably right about that. I didn’t bring any extra money. And I didn’t exactly have any friends that I could bum some food off of…
“Thanks,” I said sheepishly. I pulled the PB&J sandwich I packed this morning out of my lunchbox, along with a juice box. I took a huge bite of my sandwich and chewed slowly, finally feeling satisfied after not eating the whole day. It wasn’t my fault I woke up late and skipped breakfast. Okay, maybe it was…
“Whoa, slow down there. The sandwich isn’t going anywhere, you know.” Scott laughed.
I gulped it down after chewing thoroughly, and held the sandwich out to Scott. “Want some?” I offered.
He just shook his head and watched in amusement as I continued to scarf down my food like I hadn’t eaten in a week.
“Hey, shouldn’t you be at the comic book store?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow. The only reason I asked was so that he would stop staring at me. It made me uncomfortable when someone watched me eat. It was awkward too.
“It’s Monday,” he answered simply.
“Oh.” Just from those two words, I knew exactly why he wasn’t at work. Crawford Comics wasn’t open on Mondays. It was open every other day of the week—even on the weekends—so Mondays were everyone’s day off. Well, everyone that worked there, which was really only Scott and myself.
“Charlie, is this how you spend your lunch period? There’s thing called a cafeteria, it’s where you eat and, you know, socialize,” Scott said, putting extra emphasis on the last word of the sentence.
“I know, Scott. And if I wanted it eat in the cafeteria, I’d eat in the cafeteria.”
“So why aren’t you?”
For someone who aspired to be a lawyer, my brother wasn’t always the sharpest crayon in the box, if you knew what I meant. “Because I don’t want to,” I drawled out so slowly that each word practically became a sentence on its own.
“Don’t want to socialize, or don’t want to eat in the cafeteria?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Both. What’s the difference?”
“What’s the difference?” Scott scoffed dramatically. “C’mon, Charlie, do you even try to make friends?” I wasn’t entirely sure if he was just joking or he wanted a real answer.
“Umm…”
“That was rhetorical!” He rolled his eyes at me. “You know that ‘forever alone’ meme on the internet? Yeah, that’s you.”
“Wow. Thank you. What an honor,” I deadpanned. “No, really, you are too kind.”
“You need to get out more. Seriously, go to a few parties, make some friends, get a boyfriend, maybe. I don’t know.” Ladies and gentleman, advice from my oh-so-loving brother. He’d like to thank the Academy. Although, he had a lot of friends, so I guess I had to give him credit for that.
“And for Pete’s sake, stop reading textbooks in your free time.” He sighed and reached across the table to flip the textbook shut with a loud thud. I gasped softly, startled by the sudden noise.
“Shhh!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Scott muttered under his breath. “Charlie, you need to get a life.” He sounded like he was only half-joking this time.
“I have—“
“I meant a social life,” he interjected. I really hated my brother’s pep talks. It was at times like these where I wished my parents were still around. Their talks were faster and more efficient. And I didn’t feel so indignant after.
“Scott, I can take care of myself and make my own decisions. I’m not a kid.”
He raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender while trying to hold back a grin. “I never said you were. I was just trying to help, okay, Little Miss Grown-Up?”
“My friends and I… We just grew apart, that’s all,” I lied. I scoffed internally. Grew apart? More like I grew distant and they didn’t want to deal with me anymore.
“Sure.” He could tell I was lying, but (thankfully) dropped the subject. “Hey, did I tell you that one of my friends Iced me at the comic book store?”
“Iced you?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Yeah. You’ve never heard of Icing someone?” The bemused expression on my face must’ve told that I had never in fact heard of ‘Icing’ before. He explained what it meant and told me about this stupid game involving Smirnoff Ice and stupidity (and usually frat boys) and after that, I just tuned his voice out. I pretended to listen, though, occasionally nodding my head or offering an “Ah, that’s cool” or “Mmhmm.”
We continued talking about everything and nothing until the bell rang and everyone else in the library scrambled to get to their classes.
Scott rose up from his chair slowly and reached over the table to ruffle my hair. “See you at home, Charlie.” He shot me a grin and started to stride out of the library, and then abruptly stopped and turned to face me again. “Remember: No. More. Reading. Textbooks. For. Fun.”
I rolled my eyes and nodded.
Seeming satisfied enough with my response, Scott chuckled light-heartedly and left the library.
Quickly, I shoved my half-eaten sandwich back into my lunchbox and gathered up all my belongings. On the way out, I tossed my empty juice box into the recycling bin right outside the library. I rushed through the crowded hallway, pushing past people and dodging the throngs of students that were filing in the hall from the cafeteria.
I knew how nerdy it sounded, but I didn’t want to be late to class. My attendance record was pretty much perfect, and I wasn’t changing that now.
When I finally reached my locker, I hurriedly entered the combination and the lock popped open. I traded my lunchbox for books, binders and whatever else I needed for my afternoon classes. I spared a glance down at my watch. Five minutes left until Biology officially started. And it was on the other end of the school. Great.
I took a few calming breaths. It was okay. I had plenty of time, I assured myself.
Briefly glancing at the small mirror I had taped to the inside of my locker, right under where my schedule was, I noticed how messy my straw-coloured hair was, probably from Scott ruffling it. I ran my hands through the silky strands in an attempt to straighten them. It didn’t work too well.
I gave my watch another quick peek. Four minutes left. That should be enough time to get to class if I hurried.
And with that last thought, I slammed my locker shut and rearranged the books in my arms so my right hand was free to lock it back up.
The halls were much clearer now that most students were already in their classrooms or on their way there. A few people remained in the hall, either at their locker or talking to their friends.
I whizzed past a few students who were just milling about, and in my haste, I accidentally barrelled into someone, making us—along with our notebooks and the rest of our stuff—both topple to the ground. As I was walking around on my knees, picking up all my books that were scattered across the floor, I thought about two things: one, how I would have to throw my jeans in the washing machine as soon as I got home because the floor wasn’t exactly what I would call clean, and two, the dull throb I felt in my shoulder because whoever I had just run into made it feel like I had crashed right into a brick wall.
After I had collected all my stuff, I took a good look at whoever I had just run into, just to make sure that they were not, in fact, a brick wall. When I realized who it was, I let out a soft—almost inaudible—gasp.
Great, just great. I was going to die.
His name was Hunter Greene. Yes, like the colour. My friends and I—back when I still had friends—used to joke about how his name was a shade of green. But really, no one dared to make fun of his name, or anything else about him, for that matter. Well, at least not to his face. Unless you had a death wish, which I did not.
You see, Hunter was the closest thing to a juvenile delinquent that this school had. A JD, a hood, a stereotypical high school bad-boy… Whichever way you wanted to put it, that was Hunter. He was the type of guy that’d give you a black eye if you looked at him the wrong way. He was the type of guy that wore his signature army jacket all year ‘round, even the summer in the sweltering heat. He was the type of guy that gambled, cheated, stole, lied, drank, smoked and did a million other things that he really shouldn’t.
Or so I’ve heard.
I really didn’t know anything about Hunter, but everyone else at this school seemed to think that they did. About a million versions of his life story had been whispered, gossiped and passed on through the student body, each and every one of them different. A few of them actually made me laugh because they were so absurd.
Some said that Hunter went to a reform school or jail, and now he had to wear an ankle bracelet so the cops could track him down if they ever needed to. Others said that he was a spy trained by assassins and part of his mission was going to high school so he could blend in until he found his target and exterminated them.
I chose not to believe any of those stories or anything else that anyone said about him. Unless, of course, Hunter said it himself.
Everyone seemed to have level of respect for Hunter. Whether that was because he was one of the most talked-about people at our school or because he probably could bash your face in at any second if he wanted to (have you seen the muscles on that guy?), I wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe it was both of those reasons.
But just because I refused to believe all the rumours about him didn’t mean they weren’t true.
Which was why, after I gathered all my belongings from the floor, I felt cold beads of sweat run down my back and begin to formulate on my palms and hairline.
“Hey, watch where you’re going,” Hunter growled dangerously, shooting me a contemptuous glare.
“Sorry,” I managed to squeak out in a voice that sounded nothing like how I usually did.
One of the guys in Hunter’s posse held out a hand to him, but Hunter just swatted it away and got up without anyone else’s assistance. Hunter narrowed his eyes at the guy as his lips curled into a scowl. The guy—one of Hunter’s “followers,” as I liked to call them—backed up a little.
And he was only trying to help, I thought to myself.
Hunter always had some sort of posse following him around everywhere. There were about four or five guys and they, like Hunter, were all “bad-boys.” They weren’t as bad as Hunter, though. He was still the worst of them all. When I first saw them, I thought that they were a gang of JDs. It turned out that they weren’t actually a gang, despite popular beliefs, and none of them were actual delinquents, with the exception of Hunter, who I was unsure of. But just because they weren’t proven criminals didn’t mean they were exactly assets to society, if you get what I’m saying. I was sure that did things that were illegal, but just didn’t get caught.
Hunter turned back to me and said in this deep, menacing voice, “Next time you’d better watch where you’re going. Got it?” It didn’t sound like a question as it did a demand. It also sounded like there would be consequences if it were to ever happen again. I hoped that it wouldn’t because I didn’t really want to think about what the consequences could possibly be.
“Y-yeah, got it,” I stammered. I wasn’t good at talking to people (with the exception of my brother). Or confrontations. So this whole scene was probably less awkward for me than it was for him.
“C’mon, Hunter, we don’t have time to waste on this loser,” Hunter’s right-hand man, Aaron, sneered. He called me a few more names that were a bit worse than “loser.”
“Uh, yeah, you’re right.” Before he turned and walked away, I got a real good look at Hunter.
Hunter had dark brown hair that fell over his face in the form of bangs. They matched his brown eyes that appeared almost pitch-black. It was like he had either a scowl or a smirk permanently glued to his face, which made his overall handsome face remarkably less attractive. As usual, he was wearing his oversized army jacket. I wondered if he ever took it off. Or washed it. I could practically see his biceps even though he was wearing that bulky jacket. Welcome to the gun show, ladies. He was lean and muscular, and could probably rip a copy of the Yellowpages in half if he tried.
Finally, he walked away to whatever class he had next and I exhaled deeply in relief that our whole confrontation was over. To be honest, Hunter kind of scared me. And when I said scared me, I meant more than when Scott made me stay up late one night to watch a marathon of all the Alien movies with him. I had nightmares of creatures popping out of my stomach for weeks after that.
I wasn’t sure… There was just something about him that practically screamed ‘trouble!’
Speak of the devil… I noticed Hunter glance back at me one last time. It was quick, faster than the blink of an eye, but I thought I saw something flash in his eyes. I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it almost seemed…regretful. No, that couldn’t have been right. Could it? Well, that was the only way I could describe what I just saw.
What did he regret? All he did was loosely threaten me and then Aaron called me a loser. That wasn’t much; it was virtually nothing by Hunter’s standards.
I didn’t even know Hunter could feel regret. If he could, he certainly didn’t show it often—or at all. The thing about Hunter was that he did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, without caring about the repercussions of his actions. If there were two things that Hunter was notorious for at school, they would be: one, being bad to the bone, and two, getting his way. He always did what he wanted, even if it meant getting in trouble because really, Hunter didn’t care about that. Or whatever damage he had caused. Or people’s feelings.
But then I started to think differently. Maybe he did care, but he just didn’t show it.
I smiled and rolled my eyes at my own stupidity.
Ah, who was I kidding? It was Hunter. Hunter Greene. Of course he didn’t care.
On that final note, I started toward Biology. I quickened my pace to a full-on sprint once I realized that I had a minute at most until the bell rang. The slapping of my sneakers against the floor grew loudly the faster I ran, and cringed when my shoes let out a high-pitched squeak after I skidded around a corner.
I reached the Biology room with about two seconds to spare. I scanned the room for an empty desk. They were all occupied except for the one at the front, right in the middle. I had no other options, so I slid into the seat and as soon as my butt hit the chair, the bell wailed, signalling the official start of class.
Most people hated sitting up front, but I wasn’t like most people. For one thing, I actually listened in class and understood whatever it was we were learning about. And if I didn’t, I asked. Sounded nerdy, but it was how I kept my grades up.
I smiled in satisfaction and did my best to slow down my heartbeat, which had sped up as I ran across the school in record time to get to class. I organized my books on the desk and for the first time since lunch, I was totally at ease.
***
As students began filing out after the bell rang to mark the end of Biology, I scooped up all my books in my arms and was about to make my way to Math, when Mr. Ellis called my name.
“Ms. Crawford, may I have a word with you?”
“Sure,” I said since it wasn’t actually a question; it was more like he was telling me that he wanted to talk to me. I wondered exactly what it was that he wanted to speak to me about. Maybe he was planning on starting a Biology club and needed someone to spread the word about it.
“You too, Mr. Greene.”
I swore I could feel my heart stop for a moment, absolutely frozen, before galloping at twice its usual speed. This was definitely not a talk about a potential Biology club.
Hunter, who was laughing at something Aaron just told him, said, “I’ll meet up with you guys after school.” Then he turned to our Biology teacher, Mr. Ellis, with annoyance clearly etched on his face. “Hmm?”
I didn’t even know Hunter was in my Biology class. I knew we had a few classes together, but I didn’t know this was one of them. Maybe I had never noticed him because he always sat in the very back while I was usually up in the front.
Mr. Ellis patiently waited until all the other students had left the room before addressing us. “Charlie, Hunter—“
He didn’t even get to finish half his sentence before Hunter abruptly cut him off. “Look, I’ve got places to be, so do you think you could make this quick?”
Mr. Ellis sighed. “I hope by ‘places,’ you mean your next class. And I’ll try to get through this as fast as possible. Hunter, are you aware that you’re failing most of your classes?” The news didn’t come as a surprise to me.
Hunter didn’t seem the least bit fazed. “I figured that much.”
“If you keep it up, we’ll have to hold you back again this year,” Mr. Ellis said seriously, speaking on the rest of the teachers’ behalf.
“Doesn’t sound too bad. Third time’s the charm, right?” Hunter smirked. Last year he flunked everything and got held back, which meant that this was his second year as a high school senior. It also meant that he was a year older than everyone else.
“Hunter, I’m serious. Which is why Charlie’s here,” Mr. Ellis replied calmly, trying to suppress a smirk of his own.
I didn’t understand what I had to do with all of this, but I had a feeling Mr. Ellis would explain soon.
“Charlie has extraordinary grades and is passing every one of her courses with flying colours… Which is why she would be the perfect tutor for you,” he finished with a grin, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of us.
My jaw went slack, leaving my mouth hanging wide open in shock. I think a fly almost flew into my mouth, but thankfully it didn’t. Subconsciously, I looked over at Hunter to see if his reaction was anything like mine. It was.
His jaw practically dropped to the ground and he gave Mr. Ellis a disdainful glare like he wanted to murder him for merely suggesting that.
I could not be Hunter’s tutor! Why? Well, for a whole bunch of reasons. The first (and most obvious) being the fact that he hated me. I was sure of it. Every time he looked at me, it was either in contempt or disgust, like he was looking at scum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. (There was a split-second where he appeared to be regretful, but that didn’t count.) I didn’t even do anything to him! Okay, yeah, I crashed into him at full speed earlier, but that was once. I’d never even spoken to him before that.
Which brought me to my next point. I couldn’t even talk to the guy without stuttering or stumbling on my words. I really didn’t talk to anyone—except my brother—anymore, but if someone just randomly wanted to start a conversation with me, I would be able to at least form coherent sentences around them. But with Hunter… Yeah, not so much. But to be fair, I didn’t think anyone would be completely comfortable talking to a possible delinquent.
Mr. Ellis averted his gaze back and forth between Hunter and I, expectedly waiting for one of us to speak up.
“I, uh, I…” I didn’t even know how to respond to the whole predicament; I was still partially in shock.
“I’ll give you two a minute to work things out amongst yourselves,” Mr. Ellis said, getting up from his chair. He smiled at us one last time before leaving us alone in the room, presumably to go to the bathroom. He looked a bit jittery while he was teaching the lesson and every time he stood up to write something on the blackboard, he would cross his legs awkwardly.
Hunter turned to me and simply said, “I don’t need a tutor, so don’t start thinking that I do. You’re not going to tutor me and we can forget this whole thing even happened.” His tone wasn’t dangerous or threatening like it was earlier. It was still firm, though.
I didn’t object, even though I probably should’ve. Actually, I didn’t say anything at all. I didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there quietly, thinking this whole thing over. He must’ve taken my silence as an agreement to not tutor him because he hastily left the room without another word.
Part of me was glad that I hadn’t agreed to tutor him because every time I was around him, I turned into a stuttering moron. But another part of me secretly hoped that this wouldn’t be our last encounter. It seemed like there was more to Hunter than everyone thought. He was like an intricate puzzle that no one had really solved yet.
I had never really known a lot of people that were like Hunter. Trouble-makers, I mean. People who did whatever they wanted and took however many risks doing whatever that may be.
But maybe a few risks were just what I needed in my life.
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A/N: So what do you think of my new story? Yeah, yeah, it's cliche, I know. But really, all my stories are, so... Plus, if they didn't meet in the dumbest way possible, they probably wouldn't have met at all..
So in the comments, tell me what you think of the story so far :) oh, and if you think that this is just gonna be one big cliche, just try reading a few more chapters. I promise it won't be THAT MUCH of a cliche :P there's a reason why everyone is the way they are
Vote and comment, I'd love to hear your thoughts! :D
--Amy