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The cover was whimsical and capricious, with a smiley face here and an inspirational quote there, but on the inside, the note had the panic-inducing words “see me after class” in bold lettering. I was summoned to the guidance counselor’s lair to explain my recent transgressions.
“I don’t have time for this,” I muttered under my breath as if I were the victim. I hoped the meeting would be quick so I could head to the weight room before the football players overran it. Above all else, I needed to avoid Nora. She’d ask questions, but I wasn’t ready to answer them. I crumpled the note in my hand and cautiously surveyed the corridor. Thankfully, it was empty, so I could continue to the office with minimal shame.
Upon arrival, I took a deep breath, tugged the long sleeves on my royal blue track jacket to their ultimate length, and opened the door.
“Name.” The secretary didn’t even bother to look up.
“Rachel,” I responded bluntly.
“Which one?” I admit I had started it, but her demeanor strongly suggested we wouldn’t have been friends either way.
“Smith.” I let two seconds pass. The secretary scowled. She and I both knew three other Rachel Smiths were attending this school.
“E. Smith,” I clarified and waited for a few moments. Another Rachel had that same middle initial, too.
“Rachel Emily Smith.” It was about time I put it all together. Do you know how many people in this world have that same name? Seriously, look it up if you have the chance.
“Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?” she demanded exasperatedly. I offered a half-hearted shrug, trying to convey a hint of apology. She pulled up my file on the computer screen and checked me in. “You’re late. Dean has been waiting for you.”
Dean? Why do guidance counselors insist on first names? I could see if his name was Tiberius or something because that is a glorious first name, but… come on, Dean?
With a curt nod, the secretary pointed towards a door down the hall. Already, I could imagine at least two motivational posters adorning the walls. Maybe the one with a cat on a rope with the caption ‘Hang in there!’
Upon walking down the hall and stepping inside, I was sorely disappointed. This must have been the demotivating room instead. It didn’t help that the vertical blinds cast shadows reminiscent of bars in a prison cell. Mr. “Dean” was nowhere in sight, so I took a seat on a cold metal folding chair, my gaze fixed on the gray cement walls. Wasn’t he supposed to be waiting for me? Karma for annoying the secretary, I suppose.
The minutes ticked by from the square metal clock imprisoned on the wall within a steel cage. My eyes eventually drifted over to the shatter-proof mirror at the end of the room, positioned about six inches lower than my natural height with a caption that read, “Did you smile today?” I wandered over to it.
“I was smiling just fine until I was told to come here; thank you very much,” I told the defenseless mirror as I bent down to get a good look at myself. My coppery blonde hair was starting to grow out of its choppy bob. The ends were curling this way and that, but I could now pull off a ponytail if I needed to. I sort of liked the way it did whatever it wanted without regret. I took off my thick, rectangular frames and blinked several times. I looked better without them, but unfortunately, contacts were simply not an option. My eyes had a bit more gold than most hazel eyes, which I figured was the universe’s way of apologizing for such poor vision.
I tried distracting myself by making several ridiculous faces, but suddenly, I was struck with the idea that maybe this room was also under surveillance like every other part of the school. I quickly sat back in my seat and waited quietly, nervous that someone saw me acting like a goofball.
After an eternity or so, rounded up, a middle-aged man dressed in slacks and the quintessential 'dad sweater' entered the room. I glanced at the clock and saw it was already half past four. My workout plans were definitely off the table now.
“Hello, Rachel. My name’s Dean. Would you mind if I called you Rachel? Or do you have another preferred name?”
“Rachel’s fine.” Get to the point already.
Of course, deep down, I knew I would be annoyed with anything coming from his mouth. I knew I wasn’t there for a good reason.
“Rachel, you haven’t completed your post-high school plan essay. It’s required for graduation, so it’s quite important.”
I know, I know.
He looked at me with a hint of concern. “This isn’t like you.”
Really? You’re the guidance counselor for over three hundred students. How could you possibly know what I’m like?
“I just…” Just what? Ah, no, I had some sort of excuse but lost it.
I began scratching nervously at my right wrist. Dean glanced down at my hand, and I quickly pulled it inside my jacket.
“I get the sense that something’s bothering you, Rachel.”
There he goes, using my first name again. Do you think we’ll become friends if you say it enough? That’s just dollar-store psychology right there, and it's pretty transparent when the other party knows what you’re trying to do.
He attempted a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking about?” I looked away and said nothing. He waited for a while, but I outlasted his patience and made him surrender first. I was adept at the war of awkward silences, and I could be pretty stubborn.
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“Rachel, I’ll give you a five-day extension, okay? Please take some time to think about what you want to do. You’re a bright kid.” I think he meant you haven’t committed any known felonies, so there’s still hope for you.
“Thanks.” I’d be more thankful if you forgot the whole thing, but…
“And since I’m doing you a favor, Rachel, you’re going to do a favor for me, too.”
Whoa, buddy, what?
Dean still had that unchanging smile plastered over his face. “I’m going to review your essay personally, and then we will look at college applications together based on what you write.”
College? Weren’t applications already due? What if I don’t want to go to college? What if I can’t afford college? I felt my chest tighten suddenly, draining the strength in my arms and forcing a bead of sweat down my temple.
“Okay,” I replied numbly. What is wrong with me? Why couldn’t I tell him off?
“I’ll see you again on Tuesday at the same time. Oh, and I'll also be discussing this with your mother.”
What the heck? Why on earth would you drag her into this?
For a fleeting moment, I almost pitied him. However, he made several assumptions about me and would have to learn the hard way. I’m pretty sure there was an alert somewhere in my file to never, ever contact my mother unless it truly was the apocalypse, but he must have ignored it. Well, rest in peace, Dean.
“Yes, sir,” I responded in a sullen tone.
“Call me Dean, Rachel.”
Oh, that is not happening.
I slunk out of the office and closed the door behind me. How long was I in there? Who was the president now?
“Huhuhuhuhu…” A creeping, evil laughter echoed down the hallway as Nora’s petite frame, crowned with long, curly hair, rounded the corner. Her eyes met mine, and to emphasize her displeasure, she slammed a nearby locker door shut as another student finished putting his books in it. He jumped, startled, but opted for a safe retreat as he scurried down the hall.
With a dramatic flourish, she pointed at me with a crooked index finger. “You've been avoiding me since the last bell! We need to talk! NOW!” She might have been able to pull off the look if she didn’t have such a mischievously mousey face.
“Whatever do you mean?” I asked innocently as I continued to my locker. My trusty softball bat was waiting for me, like always, and I found the weight of it comforting. Together with my athletic ensemble, even most teachers thought I was part of the team, but I was pretending well enough not to get kicked out of the intramural sport. My walk home was long, and I didn’t want to go it alone. The bat provided extra security, but on school grounds, I had to make sure not to carry it in a menacing way, so I shoved the business end into my sporty backpack.
Nora chased after me. “The latest chapter posted! What are your thoughts? I have so many questions! What did you think about–”
“No spoilers,” I interjected, folding my hands piously as I turned to her with an exaggerated wink.
“What? Seriously!?” She stamped her tiny feet in frustration. “Chapter fifty-six has been up for over two hours already! You’re never gonna be in the top ten comments at this rate! BitterDarkTroll53 is already ranking at number three, you know.”
“I stopped reading just after the hiatus announcement.”
Nora wrinkled her nose. “Not cool! I need Rae’s opinion on Rae now!” It’s not a coincidence that my nickname is the same as the main character’s in the story she wanted to discuss. Nora assigned it to me the day we met, and I can’t really get her to stop. Everyone else calls me Rachel.
“It’s the hiatus that’s not cool!” I grumbled. “That means it probably ends on yet another cliffhanger, and there’s no real guarantee the author’s coming back soon, or ever. I’m not strong enough to go through this again…” I theatrically slammed my back into a set of lockers to make as much noise as possible as she pulled out her phone.
“Tomorrow, my house, three o’clock,” Nora commanded. “You will be caught up through chapter fifty-six, and we will discuss this like the sophisticated adults we will someday actually be. You may bring visual aids if necessary, as long as you don’t forget the snacks. We’ll need to work on an action plan.”
What? It’s so bad we need an action plan?
“I don’t know if that will be possible,” I admitted.
She glowered at me with violet eyes. “Why?”
“Dean’s going to call my mother.”
“Who the F- is Dean?” I wasn’t censoring her right there. She actually said the letter F.
“The guidance counselor.”
“Ah! What’s with guidance counselors and first names?”
Thank you!
“He wanted to talk to me because I didn’t finish that essay.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You failed to turn in an assignment on time?”
“Maybe I’m finally rebelling?” I suggested. While I wasn’t a star student in most ways, finishing my work on time was typically a point of pride.
“Doubtful. Try again.”
“It’s a stupid assignment.” I slid down the lockers to sit on the floor.
“Well, yes, but that’s not why you didn’t do it either.”
With a resigned sigh, I said, “I just don’t want to talk about it. Let’s change the subject.”
“Okay, read the chapter now, and we’ll discuss it.” She gestured towards my backpack.
I crossed my arms, feeling a bit stubborn. Our conversations always circled back to the story when we had nothing else to chat about. Couldn’t we find another mutually agreeable topic? What if we have nothing else in common? I had tried so hard to be normal, just like her, my first and only real friend since moving here. But what if…
Nora settled down beside me. “You’re afraid to check on Schrodinger's cat, aren’t you?”
I sighed at being slightly misunderstood but decided it would be easier to just go with the flow. “Even if it’s alive in there, it reeks of decaying flesh.” A climactic chapter followed by a hiatus announcement is the telltale sign of literary abandonment. Despite my deeper concerns, I was still curious about what the chapter had to say. “Raelynn won, right? I mean, she always does so...” I paused. “Wait, no, no spoilers! It’s just, you know, she’s so overpowered. Of course, she has reason to be, but nothing can really happen to her. She’s the hero!”
I ignored Nora’s baleful stare and continued. “Relias is okay, too, right? I mean, he’s always by Raelynn’s side and always seems to know what to say and do to fix the situation. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.”
Nora hid her face behind her backpack, concealing any hint that may leak through her expression. “You said no spoilers… the audacity of asking me what happened… you…” I might have short-circuited her brain.
“Wait. No. What happened? Something went wrong. No, don't tell me!”
“No. Noooo. I absolutely cannot talk to you about this right now!” Nora stood up and stormed off, leaving the hallway in eerie silence. However, my phone vibrated a few moments later, and messages started popping up one after another.
Nora: Don’t talk to me again until you catch up on your assigned reading!
Nora: 3 pm tomorrow unless you’re grounded.
Nora: Bring three boxes of strawberry chocolate pretzel sticks.
Nora: Wait. One box should be green tea.
Nora: After we discuss and plan, I’ll help you with your essay.
Nora: This doesn’t count as talking!
Nora: Text back so I know you understand!
Nora: Text back!
I literally texted her the word “back” and put my phone away. Time to go home and talk to… mother.
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