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The counselor peeked over at me. “Almost time for the lunch bell.”
“I’ve been in here that long?”
“You have, yes.”
I sighed. “Great.”
“Do you lose time like this often?”
“No. Just today.”
“Another reason why you should unload the stressors off your chest.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I got it.”
She grinned. “Just making sure.”
“Actually, I’d like to ask you something.”
She turned toward me. “Ask away.”
“Is it possible for an eighteen-year-old to survive in this world with a high school diploma and nothing else?”
“Generally speaking? Or is this for something specific?”
“Just general. I’m curious.”
She paused. “Uh huh.”
“Really. I am.”
“Okay. I’ll bite. Yes, generally speaking, it’s possible to make a good life for oneself without a college degree. But it’s still hard. Most jobs will start people at the very bottom, and make them prove themselves twice over against their college-educated counterparts. And in bigger cities and states like California, that percentage drops significantly.”
“So what you’re saying is someone who only has a high school degree would have to get out of California before attempting to build a life for themselves.”
She nodded. “For the greatest overall chance of success, yes.”
“How can they do that without money?”
“There’s the catch-22. I’ll let you know once I know.”
I snickered. “Well, thanks for the advice.”
“My office is open to you anytime. But can you relay a message to Clint for me?”
I paused. “Sure.”
“Tell him college is nothing like high school. Especially a community college. Let him know that even a two-year technical degree would set him up much better than only having a high school diploma.”
I blinked. “I didn’t ask that question for Clint.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
She turned to face her computer just as the lunch bell rang. And while part of me was frustrated with her for assuming my position, I couldn't hate her for it. Because she’d been right. Maybe I was frustrated because she was right. Because I’d become so easy for people to read. I gathered my things and made my way for my locker, my mind in knots as I put my books away.
And pulled out my afternoon books.
As I made my way for the cafeteria—again—I wondered how long it might take for Clint to come back to school. Or if he’d come back at all. I hoped he did. His grades were slowly doing better. I mean, not by much. He was still a hearty C average student. But the one D he had in history had come up due to his last test score. If he worked really hard at it, he might be able to get some of his classes into the ‘B’ range before the end of the school year. Which would greatly affect his GPA.
