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RORY
“Anabelle, how many times do you have to be told that there is no smoking allowed on school premises?”
It’s Friday afternoon, and this is the third time this week that Anabelle Baucom has been in my office.
“It’s a vape.” The baby-faced teen, dressed in ripped jeans and an oversized long-sleeve shirt, rolls her eyes at me. Her mousy brown hair hangs long, covering most of her face. “You guys act like I’m going to burn the school down with a lit cigarette.”
“Vaping is just as bad for you as smoking. That’s why you have to be twenty-one to vape legally in this state.”
“That’s stupid. It’s practically water,” she mumbles while chewing the skin around her fingernails.
“Did you get the vape from someone here at school?” Anabelle ignores my question. “Fine, you don’t have to tell me where you got it. Did you meet with Officer Le Blanc last weekend?”
“You already know I did.”
She’s right. If she would have ditched, I would have been notified since it’s the main reason she wasn’t suspended, or worse, expelled. I look at this poor lost soul sitting in front of me and watch as she mindlessly stares out my office window. I want so badly to help her, but I can’t seem to reach her no matter what I say or do. The bell rings loudly through the silence, and Anabelle finally makes eye contact with me.
“I’m going to be late for last period.”
“Fine. But you owe me two after school detentions next week, to start. I want you to meet me in my office after the second bell on Monday and Wednesday.”
“Here? This isn’t where detention is held.”
“I know that. But I’m trying something new with you. You’ll report to me and we will sit here in silence, or we can use the hour to talk about anything you’d like. It’s up to you.”
“Why?”
“Because when I tell you I want to help you, I mean it.”
“Whatever.”
Anabelle grabs her book bag and throws it over one shoulder before exiting my office.
“Have a good week—” Annabelle slams the door before I can finish. “—end.”
I slump down in my chair and thump my head against the leather back. My time is running out with that girl, and I know I can’t save them all, but I really want to help her. Sitting up, I place my hands on the keyboard and begin typing. Once I have the information I need, I pick up my desk phone and dial the phone number. It rings a few times before going to voicemail.
“Hi, Mr. Baucom. This is Aurora Monroe from Hawk Bend High. Anabelle’s guidance counselor. I wanted to reach out and see if you’ve thought further about getting Anabelle back into counseling. If you need help finding someone, I’d be more than willing to reach out to some of my contacts. Let me know.”
I hang up, unhopeful that I’ll receive a return call. Before I can obsess too much about it, there’s a knock on my door, signaling my next student is here.
* * *
It’sa little past four when I’m finally able to pack up for the day. Opening my desk drawer, I grab my phone and see I have a missed call from Brad and a text from Jackson. I decide to check my text instead of returning Brad’s call. It’s a brief video clip of a girl sitting at a table with a giant punch bowl of sangria in front of her. Instead of drinking from the straw, she reaches for the giant ladle next to her and chugs.
Jackson:Actual footage of Rory on Friday nights.
I grin at my phone. A slight chuckle escapes me as I watch the video play over and over. Even though he’s making fun of me, this feels like the old Jackson. It’s exactly how the two of us used to be before whatever glitch in the matrix happened on Valentine’s Day. This is normal.
“Oh, my God! Thank the friggin’ lord it’s Friday.” Lyndsey walks into my office with her purse and the giant gallon of water she’s been toting around all week. “I think I’m too tired to go out tonight. Can we have a girls’ night in?”
“Yes, please.” A low-key evening sitting on the couch having a glass of wine with my girl is the perfect ending to the weird couple of weeks I’ve had.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I glance down at the screen. It’s another meme. This one is the SNL skit where the woman places an IV in her arm that’s attached to a wine bottle.
Jackson:This way you don’t need to dirty a glass.
“Brad?”
