Trying to live #Wattys2024

Chapter 29 (Edited)

I stood at the door, still consumed by the freshman's words. Her comments would linger in my mind, but dwelling on them wouldn't help me now. I needed to focus on the immediate obstacle in front of me: the school counselor.

When Principal Richardson announced that I had to visit the school counselor again, I learned the school had a new one, but I didn't know who. The last counselor was a pain, and I was sure she thought the same about me since our sessions were filled with silence.

It was very awkward.

The first six months of junior year were unbearable, not just for me but for everyone involved with me. I was horrible to everyone—not verbally, but my actions spoke louder than words. As far as I remember, I was always drunk, talked back with crude language, was late to classes and practice, and my grades plummeted. I was essentially the mean girl, even though no one really talked to me thanks to Henry's rule. After everyone found out that I slept with Wyatt, I had quite a bad reputation. I used that to my advantage, adding fuel to the fire wherever I could.

When Principal Richardson found out about my behavior, drinking, and the horrible thing I attempted, she had enough and arranged sessions with the school counselor. They didn't really help. I also had a private counselor after what I did, but he wasn't satisfied with our sessions either. I never said anything, and my counselors found it very disturbing and problematic because they knew something was wrong. Then the last school counselor left, and I told Mom I didn't need a private counselor anymore since graduating was my top priority and I was already trying to be normal again for the sake of leaving this town.

For once, my mother listened to me and canceled the sessions. Obviously, she had her own reasons for canceling them. One of them must have been the embarrassment of having one of her kind go to a therapist. Well, she and Dad went to couples therapy, but that was different than your own child having a severe alcohol problem. Oh, and mind you, my alcohol addiction reached its peak after I came back from New Haven, a facility for troubled teenagers. I wasn't troubled before that.

Realizing I was just standing in front of a closed door, venting my anger internally, I decided to knock and open it.

As I stepped inside, I took in the room. The walls were white and decorated with paintings of flowers. To the right of the door were two gray couches with a small white round table between them. On the left was a window, and underneath it was a line of various plants in different-sized pots. In the middle of the room was a long desk. In front of the desk were two chairs, while behind it was a big leather chair and another window.

The desk was neat, with two framed pictures on either side. The person sitting in the leather chair was looking out the window.

"Hi," I started when the counselor turned around and said at the same time, "You must be Ms. Vermont."

"You."

"You?"

The counselor's "you" had a distinct tone of accusation, as if I had wronged her or killed her cat. My "you" was more of a question, expressing disbelief that this person was my new counselor.

It was none other than Ms. Smith! Yes, that Ms. Smith, with the terrible hair—though today her afro looked quite pretty. And that Ms. Smith, to whom I once introduced myself as Rebecca Fernanda Olivia Julia Julio Estella Ramirez Rodriguez, and who claimed to be Will Smith's sister, though I was sure that was made up. She had a weird punishment rule where, if you got 100 penalty points, she'd send you to the principal for punishment.

I didn't take her penalty points seriously, but I already had 50 points, and I wasn't keen on visiting Principal Richardson again after she punished me. I wasn't mad at her, but—who was I kidding?—I was mad at her. If she had let me be, I wouldn't be in trouble for graduating. Graduation was the only thing keeping me going, and the fact that I had to turn 18 to get my inheritance, which was basically a large sum of money that could buy my freedom from this town and its people.