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“You can drop your bag in the chair,” she offered.
I did and then stepped into the empty hallway with her. Her bright pink heels tapped loudly against the tile compared to the soft sole of my leather saddle shoes. She took a deep breath and said, “I always like the hallways when they’re empty like this. Lots of room to think.”
I’d never really seen it like that, but she was right. The quiet was nice.
We walked past Diego’s locker, and my eyes landed on the blue metal. There were cute little signs put up by the booster club. A feather quill-shaped cut out with text that saidWrite in a victory!A photo of him in his uniform in a football-shaped frame. Another one in the shape of a football helmet, his jersey number, 13, stenciled on the side.
Birdie stopped in front of a brown door.
Room 117
Teacher’s Lounge
I was trying to decide if that apostrophe was grammatically correct when she pushed the door open, revealing an empty room with short blue carpet and a pair of worn leather couches. It smelled a little... stale.
“Have a seat,” Birdie said as she walked to the coffee pot. While she filled her mug, liquid tinkling against the ceramic, I settled into the love seat, sinking into the cushion.
“Coffee?” Birdie asked.
I shook my head, already on edge without the extra caffeine.
She stirred in a packet of sugar and went to sit on the other couch. “So your mom tells me you want to be a nurse?”
I nodded.
“What path are you looking at? Do you want to start with a BSN and move into advanced nursing?”
“I haven’t really thought of much beyond going to college, to be honest,” I admitted.
Birdie took a sip of coffee, her bright pink lipstick leaving a mark on the mug. “I called an alumna who is working as a nurse practitioner at Johns Hopkins and talked with her about some of the different pathways. She said she’s worked with people who came from all kinds of educational backgrounds, but most hospitals are looking for that BSN nowadays.”
Back in Kansas, a lot of the rural areas would take what they could get. An area this populous could probably afford to be pickier, and if this is where Mom and Dad were settling, then that’s what I’d do. “I’ll go with the BSN,” I said.
Her blond curls bounced with her nod. “Where are you thinking about, university wise? Duke is ranked highly, as are Johns Hopkins and NYU. Your mom said you’ve been all over the country—maybe there’s a place you’ve been that you’d like to go back to?”
“Just here,” I said. Maybe too quickly, because Birdie’s lips pursed slightly.
She held her mug in both her hands, looking at the dark liquid. “Is there a reason you want to stay local?”
I bit my lip, wondering how much she already knew. If it would be worth it to avoid the truth. If she could keep this confidential from my mom. Finally, I said, “It doesn’t feel right to go anywhere else.”
She studied me for a long moment, then said, “The good news is there are several great schools here locally and even more within a few hours’ drive. I’ll gather some data and send you the application links. When you apply, just forward me the confirmation.”
That seemed like an odd request. “Do colleges require your sign-off?”
“Not the colleges.” She took another sip of coffee. “The way it works here at the Academy is I have to see you making significant progress toward your future plan for me to sign off on your counseling requirement for graduation.”
“This school is different,” I said. “In so many ways.”
A slight smirk formed on her lips. “Different is a beautiful thing.”
Thirty-Eight
Diego
Today in our CNA class,I put my things on the table beside April’s and said, “Mind if I sit here?”
She looked up at me, a coy smile on her face. “I don’t know. Are you going to write me a sonnet for extra credit?”
