Page 41 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

I work hard to go unnoticed, so I’m worried why the guidance counselor wants me to come see him immediately.

I knock on the open door and wait to be invited in.

“Ah, Miss Tate. Please take a seat,” Mr. Richards says. I do as I’m told and try my best not to fidget.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asks.

“No, sir.”

“Now’s your chance to tell me anything you want to say. It will stay in this room, I promise,” he says. Behind me, the door is still wide open and the gossipy teacher’s assistants are sitting in the main office.

I stay silent and he shakes his head in disappointment.

“This is your last year of middle school, Miss Tate. The administration takes the success of its students seriously and need to ensure you’re ready to enter high school in the fall.”

What’s he talking about? I get good grades, and I stay out of trouble. Why wouldn’t I be ready to go to high school? Cold sweat beads on the back of my neck and I squirm uncomfortably in the hard, plastic chair.

“Your teachers have reported an upsetting trend. You’ve been falling asleep in class and aren’t keeping up with the material as easily as usual,” Mr. Richards says.

I flush with embarrassment.

Dad left, and Mom stopped taking care of us. There’s never enough safe food to eat.

So, yea, when my stomach’s burning from being so empty, and Mom’s up all night drinking and wailing about my dad being gone, sometimes I fall asleep in class…

And being so hungry and tired makes it hard to pay attention…and I’ve gotten a few bad grades on assignments and tests recently.

“I’ll try harder, I swear. Please don’t be mad. Please don’t hold me back in eighth grade!” I plead.

Mr. Richards regards me with such scrutiny, like bugs crawling all over my skin.

“See that you do. You’ll be stopping in for weekly visits with me until your teachers are satisfied. If things don’t improve, administration will need to get involved.” He raises one bushy eyebrow over his tortoiseshell glasses.

“Yes, Mr. Richards.” Keeping my head down, I rush from the office, giggles and whispers from the teacher’s assistants already following me out the door.

Hoping I have enough grace period to use the bathroom, I lock myself in a stall and allow myself a minute to cry.

This is the worst year of my life.

Izzy and Connor are both in high school now, so their schedule is different than mine. Izzy goes to school earlier than me, so, I walk to school by myself. And I don’t see them after school as much because Connor has sports, and Izzy has a lot more homework.

Livy’s still in middle school like me, but her lunch period is different than mine and her specials are on a different rotation than me, so when I have gym, she has art. Or when I have art, she has music.

I’ve never been this lonely in my whole life.

My dad left. My mom doesn’t love me. I can’t do anything right—not even eating…

“Why the long face, dollface?” Connor says, nudging my side with his elbow.

I plaster on a fake smile and keep walking, hoping he’ll drop it.

I had another counseling session with Mr. Richards today. They’re bad enough, but today the school nurse was there. It felt like she saw inside me and learned all my secrets.

“I don’t have practice today, and it’s warm out. Do you want to go do homework at the park?” Connor asks.

I readily accept because though I’m so hungry I might faint, especially in this warmer weather, I’ll do anything to stay out of our trailer as long as possible.

We sit at an old table with green rubber coating peeling off the diamond pattern of the seats. Izzy has detention and Livy has riding lessons, so it’s just us today.