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Thursday – Athletes vs Mathletes
Friday – Blue & Gold!
Send in submissions of your fave outfits. Spoiler Alert—have you seen Madison Oliphant’s pjs today? To die for! xx
Ihad rapidly typed up the blog post before the bell for first period rang. I’d already posted the spirit days on Saturday, but it was good to remind everyone as often as possible—and to remind everyone to vote on their favorite outfit. It wasn’t nine o’clock yet and my submission box was full of people wearing their pajamas. Some pictures were mirror selfies, but some were of students who’d snapped pics of others while they walked down the hall. Even from a brief scan, Madison had been the most photographed in her blue and gold nightgown with matching headband.
I loved homecoming week. If not for the excitement of the big game, then for the fact that it was a content goldmine.
“Ava Jenson?” Mrs. Winston called during first period, drawing my attention—and the attention of every other student in the room—to her desk. She had her desk phone pressed to her ear. “They want you in the office.”
In the office again? Was this another Most Likely To list intervention? Dear God, I hoped not. I wasn’t sure I could sit through another round ofhow are you feelingordoes being voted on the Most Likely To list bother youquestions.
“Oh. To the counselor’s office, Ava,” Mrs. Winston called once I got to the door.
The counselor’s office. Now my guard went up.
The counselor’s office was in the same wing as the main office, but a few doors down. I didn’t walk there eagerly though, heading down the west wing stairs with my slippers making soft sounds against the linoleum. Going to the counselor’s office was probably for something routine. Maybe about my grades, college choices, scholarships. Applications were coming up soon, so maybe they were trying to meet with the seniors about it. That made sense. I could tell whoever that I already had a range of colleges picked out, could tell them that I’d already bookmarked several scholarship applications on my laptop. That had to be what they were meeting me for.
The counselor’s office’s door was open when I approached it. She didn’t have a secretary like Principal Oliphant did, so when I appeared over the threshold, I had a clear view of the middle-aged woman sitting behind her grand oak desk. Her office was filled with a lot of pinks and yellows, from canvases on the walls to throw pillows on the plush chairs opposite of her desk. Even though this office was much smaller than Principal Oliphant’s, with one tiny window to avoid a fire hazard, it felt less like a jail cell.
The woman, a petite brunette with a polka dot blazer, welcomed me with a wave. She looked much younger than I’d expected. “Ava? Come, sit! Pick wherever looks most comfortable.”
I honestly knew the school counselor wasn’t necessarily a psychologist, but right off the bat, it felt like my choice would be scrutinized. The chairs opposite her or the plush loveseat rammed up against the far wall? I opted for the chair with the throw pillow, knocking my knees on her desk in the process.
“How are you doing today?” the woman asked, features still cheery. “I know it’s Monday, and Mondays can be a bit of a bummer, but hopefully it’s going okay.”
“It’s fine.” I scanned the surface of her desk, finding the plaque I’d been looking for. “Ms. Murphy, can I ask why I’m here?”
“Direct, I like it. I wanted to check in with you. See how the school year is starting off, chat about you, your goals, your life.” Ms. Murphy clasped her hands together and leaned forward, looking like she was unable to sit still. Her expression had this intense sort of sincerity in it, like she was trying to convey something I wasn’t quite picking up. “I’ll be straight up with you, Ava, and I hope you’ll be straight up with me.”
“Oh…kay?”
“Your parents asked me to have a session with you. They told me how your home life is changing and how you might need someone to talk it out with. That’s why I called you into my office. Just to check in.”
My parents had asked her to meet with me? “When? When did they ask?”
“I came in this morning to an email from your mother.”
My mother.It would’ve made more sense for Dad to have sent an email, given our talk at Wallflower Saturday morning. I’d done an efficient job of dodging Mom yesterday, citing a headache and a mountain of homework, and she’d left me alone. We were both experts at cold shoulders. “Can I read the email?”
Ms. Murphy quirked her lips to the side. “What do you think your mother said?”
Jeez, if that wasn’t a psychologist question, I wasn’t sure what was. I tried not to let myself feel defensive. “My mom and I don’t talk about anything that I thought she’d send me to the counselor for.”
“This is just a check in,” Ms. Murphy said, lifting her hands in a pacifying gesture. “You’re going through some big changes right now and she wants to make sure you have all the avenues possible to talk things through with someone.”
“Is that what she said?” I demanded, unable to contain a laugh that rang of incredulity. All the avenues possible. It sounded like something Mom might’ve said, but the hypocrisy of it all was too ironic. She wanted to make sure I’d have someone to talk to? Make sure I wasn’t alone in things? When she was living in the same house and never asked me those questions?
“Your parents are separating, you’re moving houses, you’re filling out college applications, and being in your final year of high school—those are all stressful things on their own.”
And kissing my best friend’s brother. Except I’d rather die than admit that to her.
“Talking to someone about what’s troubling you isn’t a bad thing.”
Her words triggered a memory. Reed’s voice, clear as day:You can talk to me, you know. I’m a good listener. Those words made me remember how quickly he’d pulled me against him Friday night, how tightly he held me, as if he could make me feel better just by squeezing. It was such a painful thing, baring myself, but Reed had accepted it in an instant. No hesitation.
“Thanks for the check in, but I’m good,” I told Ms. Murphy, rising to my feet with a plastic smile. The idea of putting myself in that situation with anyone else wouldn’t happen. If I couldn’t be honest with Rachel, there was no way I could be honest with this woman before me. “But if anything else comes up, I’ll come to you.”
