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Her office is a nightmare, as in she should seriously be considered for some type of hoarders show. Paper—everywhere. Then there are these cutesy sayings framed on the wall. Do people actually believe that inspirational bull?
Mrs. Collins closes the door behind her and settles into the seat at her desk. “So is Jonah your boyfriend?”
“No.” I haven’t really had one of those. I’ve
kissed a few boys, but there’s been no one who’s knocked my socks off. Plus witnessing Joss and my dad being all dysfunctional is a major deterrent to relationships.
But if I were going to have one, Jonah would be the guy. I worry over a thread on the hem of my shirt. I wish I knew how to help him.
“He needs friends,” she states.
My eyes snap to hers. “What?”
“Jonah,” she continues. “I can tell you’re worried about him. He and I haven’t talked, but knowing what I do about what he’s been through, he needs good friends to talk to. I’m glad he has you.”
Jonah said he felt like a fraud. I cross my ankles and try to hide in the chair. “I’m not good at that—the whole friend thing.”
She smiles and it’s the type that makes you think that happily-ever-afters do exist. “I have a feeling you’re perfect for the job. All it takes is someone willing to listen.”
Not loving this conversation, I squirm. “Jonah has plenty of friends.”
“I’m sure he does, but does he have someone who will listen, and not just to the words that come out of his mouth?”
Our eyes meet and it’s like she can read my insecure thoughts.
“Do you know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here to listen, Stella?”
“I don’t have anything to say.” And the room grows smaller.
“I don’t believe that’s true.”
Neither do I. Even though Dad’s called Joss twice, he hasn’t returned home and there’s a sinking feeling inside me that says this is it. This is forever. Joss accidently told Dad that I turned eighteen and his response was that I officially became old enough to fend for myself.
“There’s a reason I came here,” I say. “And it’s not over this.”
“Okay then.” She peruses the guidance counselor meeting request form I filled out as if she hasn’t seen it before. Which, since she asked for me, we both know isn’t the case.
“I’m growing old.”
“Yes, you are. Which is why I asked to see you. We’ve been contacted by the Fantastic Footwear Foundation.”
Mrs. Collins waits for a reaction and she gets one. Being our school’s social worker, she’d know this foundation and I share a past, and why that would stop all games on my part. They contact social service agencies to discover which kids need the help and every year since the program’s been in existence, I’ve made that list.
I push my hair behind my ear and scoot to the edge of my seat. “I’m too old for them now.”
“Yes and no. They’ll help you again this year, but it will be your last. I was wondering if you’d be willing to give back. They’re short on volunteers for an event at an elementary school today and if you’d like to help out, I’ll excuse you from school this afternoon.”
“Yeah,” I answer without hesitating. “Sign me up.”
There are few things that touch a piece of my heart and soul at the same time and this organization is one of them. They’re loosely based off of a foundation that was established in Las Vegas by Nikki Berti. The program provides correctly sized footwear for underprivileged children from newborns to those aged twenty-one. And it’s not just that the program supplies shoes that fit; they actually let the participants select their own shoes.
Very rarely in my life have I felt empowered. When that trailer rolled into my neighborhood and they let me pick which pair of shoes I wanted, I felt in control of my destiny.
I stare at the canvas sneakers I got last year. Shoes are one of a handful of things that make me feel like I fit in with everyone else. Somewhere in Las Vegas there’s an awesome woman who inspired someone in Kentucky to create the same type of program. I wonder if she knows what she does on a daily basis for girls like me.
“I thought the program in Kentucky could only provide shoes up to age seventeen.”
“Eighteen now. They were given another grant. Maybe someday they’ll be as big as the one in Vegas.”
