Wanted

Getting Acquainted

~ Chapter 11 ~

Arden

I rolled my eyes at the slip of paper in my hand. The dull, translucent yellow sheet was the only thing getting me out of my least favorite class, yet I was dreading my first mandatory counseling session even more than U.S. History. It was for students who had experienced some kind of life-altering trauma, but I hadn't even known my school offered counseling until the principal called me into his office about two weeks prior to offer me his "deepest condolences" after what happened. I may have only been in sixth grade, but I wasn't naive enough to believe he actually cared. Or that the meeting I was being forced to attend was for anything other than a show.

My eyes scanned over the room numbers lining the walls as I passed them, trying to find the same one scrawled on my notice. I stumbled upon the classroom after a few minutes of searching, tucked away in a corner at the end of an eighth grade hallway. I cautiously approached the door and swallowed the lump in my throat. It felt like the nightmare would never end.

After I lost my mom to a robbery gone wrong, then my dad just days later while he was fighting overseas, I realized it was easier to keep from getting hurt if I set up an emotional barricade between me and everyone else, especially groups the size of the one I had just walked in on.

I scrunched up my face in disgust as I assessed the people sitting in front of me. They were all weird to say the least. The first boy was covering his face with his free hand, trying to hide the finger he had shoved up his nose. I shook my head and turned my attention to the girl on the ancient sofa resting her elbows on her knees. She was twirling the crusted tips of her hair as she gazed off into the distance with glossed-over eyes. I tried not to gag as I witnessed her scratch the dandruff from her scalp then proceed to lick her fingers.

After lurking in the doorway for quite some time, I noticed one boy sitting at the back of the room about as far away from the rest of the group as possible, an expression of pure indignation etched across his face. He was the only one who looked somewhat normal, so I moped over to the beanbag next to his and threw myself down into it with a huff.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as the boy cast several fleeting glances my way every couple of seconds. He was projecting an emotion somewhere between nervous and curious, but I didn't dare let on that I had even noticed him.

Finally, leaning toward me slightly as if to assure confidentiality, he spoke up, "So, what are you stuck here for?"

I turned to stare him down head on, "For my twelfth birthday, I got two dead parents. You?"

"My dad was executed after being a prisoner of war for over a year."

I nodded my head and gave a little frown to let him know I empathized. "Sucks."

"That it does. I'm Luke."

"Arden."

"Are you a sixth grader, too?"

"Mhmm."

"Sucks."

I involuntarily let out a small giggle, and Luke smiled. It was a nice smile, I thought to myself, the kind that makes you feel like you're that person's only source of happiness.

The smile faded as Luke looked around, "This is the last place I want to be."

A figurative light bulb illuminated over my head, "Then let's skip."

"Seriously?"

I could tell I had his full attention.

"But where would we go?" he pressed on, the eagerness to hear my plan bubbling over onto his features again.