FEEL

33. Mcfeely

Mcfeely ~ inexplicably moved by predictable and well-known sentiments.

~ The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows ~

~°~

I didn't see much of Mr Pierce the next morning. The ride to school was quiet. He was in his brooding state, that where I can see that although he's staring concentrated at the road, he's not exactly looking at it. I therefore decided against interrupting his reverie and looked out my window, replaying last night over and over in my head until it was probably tattooed to my psyche.

After Biology, Mr Dawson asked to see me alone. I was reserved about it at first. The last time we were in the class alone, Mr Pierce had the most outrageous outburst I'd ever seen him have. For a calm man, he was mighty uncomposed that day. When he revealed the reason for wanting to see me, though, all concern faded away.

“Have you thought about where you want to go for college, Aquila?” he asks me, reclined in the seat behind his desk.

He had me stand in front of him across from his desk. My posture was a little awkward and uncomfortable, seeing as the door was yet again, closed, and it was the very thing that bothered Mr Pierce the last time we were alone. “A couple of times, yes.”

“Anything in particular you'd like to pursue?”

I shrug, “I like English a lot. Writing and such. I'd like to pursue something in that field.”

“Writing?” he almost laughs. “Well, you should know that things like that aren't certain. You're a smart young lady. You should look into career fields that are more in demand. In science for example.”

I tried, but failed not to grimace. Me, a doctor or a scientist? I couldn't pull off a lab coat without looking like a little girl playing dress up.

“I don't know,” I say instead of telling him there's no way I'm suited to that field. It seems dismissive to just go out and say it, like I didn't even take his idea into consideration.

“Lucky for you, your science and math grades are beyond exceptional, and you qualify to apply to a lot of great schools, to get scholarships even. I could help you through that if you'd like.”

“Oh. That would be great, thank you.”

And then, to my surprise, he opens the laptop on his desk and says, “Let's get to it, then.”

My lips part. “Right now?”

“No time like the present.”

I've never not wanted to do something more in my entire life. And I felt absolutely bad for it. Mr Dawson was going the extra mile for me - probably something he wouldn't do for any other student. I should feel lucky, honored in fact. Yet, all I feel is the desperation to flee.

Instead of doing just that, I excuse, “I have English class right now. Mr Pierce doesn't like us being late.”

“I'll write you a note to give him. Grab a chair and sit here.” Mr Dawson gestures next to him, which makes me feel even more awkward.

I wrack my brain for another excuse, but find nothing. So, having not much of a choice, I grab a chair and settle next to him behind his desk.

In retrospect, I was worried over a little thing. Despite the horrible awkwardness, Mr Dawson guided me through applications into various schools and a few scholarships and in one sitting, we did what would've been, for me, a week's amount of work.