AN ODE TO YOUR DREAMS

( 四 ) sewn roots

sewn roots.

"PERHAPS YOU COULD JOIN A CLUB." The counselor suggests, intertwining her fingers over her table. Today, instead of a bun, her hair is tied neatly down to a loose braid that rests on her right shoulder, brushing over her white cotton blouse. Her smile is renewed to a more patient one today compared to the last time you had seen her. Her eyes staring at you coolly.

You had once again been called down to the faculty rooms since you were apparently "one of the special students that didn't join a club" —you doubted that there was anything special about that; unenthusiastic is a word you'd call yourself more than anything—and you had assumed initially that you were brought here for the purpose of making you rethink your decisions.

You were correct.

"Maybe the Book Club since it says here on one of your career choices based on your interests that you could become a proof-reader."

Huh. So she did write proof-reader.

"... Another one here says Editor, and Writer. Some present known clubs that I can think of are The Monthly Paper and the Modern Poetry Club."

You mindlessly nod as she listed off the different clubs while sitting uncomfortably at the very middle on the wide cream-colored sofa. You had your hands rested on top of your lap with your back leaning against the rest, although despite the softness of the cushion, you couldn't seem to find it within yourself to relax.

"Or if you don't want to join one that is related to your possible profession, then why not sports? Or perhaps a manager to a club? I heard that the basketball club and the soccer club are currently looking for managers." If it were possible, her smile pulled up further causing the corners of her eyelids to crinkle along with it. "Take note that these are all just suggestions. But I do think that it is beneficial to be joining a club as it will help you add some credentials onto your college application."

You nod once more. It's not like you're going to college, but you decide to let her continue anyway.

"Think about it, okay? And don't hesitate to come to me if you have any questions. My door is always open during breaks and until about an hour after school ends, around four o'clock PM."

You nod again.

You feel like one of those bobble heads that were stuck on top of the dashboard of a car. Whenever any movement is made, its head bobs up and down.

"Splendid. Do you have any more questions?" She asks, clapping her hand once.

This time, you shook your head.

"I see. Then you are free to head back to your classroom before lunch ends. It was nice speaking with you, (Last Name) (First Name)."

On your way out, you mumble loud enough for the counselor to hear. "To you as well, sensei."

YOU STARE AT THE SHARP crimson and orange leaves of the Momiji right by the glass window of the classroom even if you know that it won't provide you the answers to your current predicament. You are sitting all the way over to the other side, just right beside the back entrance of the room, but you find yourself scrutinizing the maple leaves despite it being quite blurry from a distance. Anything would be better than to listen to the Science teacher drone on and on about converting some random letters to another set of random letters.