Fools

4- Noah

Noah

The second day of the school year wasn't any better and I was already called into Mrs. Adams' room first thing in the morning. Mrs. Adams was our school's social worker. She had some degree in psychology or some shit like that. She spoke to certain students regularly (the ones who struggle emotionally or with school in general). Sometimes she spoke to random students who were having a bad day and needed to talk to someone.

For me, I was a regular of hers. I had yelled at my teacher my freshman year, shouting something angsty like, "Who fucking cares? I'm probably gonna' off myself soon, anyway!" Ever since then, I've had scheduled appointments with Mrs. Adams. I wasn't actually going to kill myself, my teacher was being dramatic. But, I suppose it did have its perks; I had an "anytime pass." That meant, whenever I started getting pissed off in class, I could use that pass to see Mrs. Adams. I didn't use it often, though, because Mrs. Adams was a chatter box that sometimes annoyed me more.

I walked into her office, already annoyed knowing I have to sit through her cheery attitude.

In her office, there's a tan, wooden desk that stood against the wall to the left of the door. Her desk was neat, too neat, like she has OCD, or something (I wouldn't be surprised). Opposite from her desk was a bookshelf with different stress reliever things like Play-Doh, coloring books, stress balls, and twisty things that keep your mind preoccupied.

To the right of the doorway was a plain black chair which is where I sat, with a sigh escaping me. A nightstand was situated next to my chair that held a mini sandbox which contained mini rakes and mini shovels. "You really needed to see me? It's only the second day," I said in an irritated tone that I normally used with her.

"Of course I needed to see you! I have to know about my favorite student's summer."

I roll my eyes at her (she's used to my attitude; it doesn't phase her). "My summer was fine. Can I go?"

"Not yet. Let's talk about your plan for this year." She folded her left leg over her right.

"Ugh," I slumped lower in the chair, and started shuffling sand around with the mini rake.

"Noah, this is your last year, let's finish strong," she said with excitement, her fist shooting in the air and everything.

"You mean straight C's?" I question sarcastically.

"We both know you can do better than that, but C's are still passing grades! So let's shoot for A's but have our goal be not letting your grades slip lower than a C! How does that sound?"

"Super." My tone was dry.

"Awesome! And I made you a new pass," she told me as she shifts though some papers on her desk. I set down the toy rake as Mrs. Adams pulls out a small, pink, and laminated piece of paper. She holds it out to me.

I grab it and shove it in my book bag before standing up. "Thanks."

She nods. "Anything you want to talk about before you go?"

"Not really." And I leave her office.

**

My usual group hangs out at Emily's after school. Which apparently, our group expanded.

Walking into Emily's home, the last person I wanted to see was siting on the couch, chatting it up with my friends. I didn't know what it was that bothered me about Sam. I wasn't even mad anymore about the coffee spill, yet just his presence got me riled up.

"Hey," I greeted all of them. It was Carter, Emily, Jason, Sam, and Haven. Emily's parents are rarely home, so if we hang out anywhere, it's at Emily's. "Where's Kaitlyn?" I asked. She's usually here before me. They live a street down from each other.