Floating Face Down (boyxboy)

Chapter Thirty

[A/N]  I had to publish twice. I accidentally left in some lines I was meant to fill in at the beginning. Also I added a little at the end. Now we should be good, sorry about that...

The police came to speak with both of us after that. I didn't go back to class, instead they called my parents, informed them what happened, and had me sit out the remaining two periods in, Miss Polwarth, the school therapist's office. 

Naturally the first thing she asked me to do was the try writing about the incident in my diary. I told her I lost it and she frowned, disappointed, at me and rifled around in the drawers behind her before pulling out another identical diary and handing it over.

"Elliot, having someone to help work out your problems is always ideal, but in reality you have to be able to help yourself, have a conversation with yourself. When you're having issues I want you to keep this in mind, you might not feel like writing in the diary but it's important that you do..."

I accepted the new booklet quietly and stared at her, quiet for a moment.

I could sense that she was getting uncomfortable, before she could break the silence I spoke.

"Do you read the diaries?"

She pressed her lips together, a little taken aback but also seemingly not very impressed. "Do you think I read your diary?"

I scoffed. "Why would I ask if I knew?"

She closed her mouth, now suddenly insulted.

"Would you like me to?" She asked, folding her hands on her knees.

I thought about it. "Yes." I replied finally.

This seemed to brighten her, she sat a little more upright in her seat, instead of her usual hunch, and tried and failed to hold back a slight smile.

"Well, then I will read it. As long as I have your permission."

I stared at her.

I got it then. Polwarth wasn't a bad person, she was just morally swelled up. The kind of person that wanted to feel like she was helping more than, perhaps, she internally actually wanted to help. I didn't respect her because she had failed me, and in her failure to help me she had cultivated a kind of disappointed apathy towards me, but that didn't make her a bad person, not really. That made her normal.

The final bell rang. I put the book in my bag.

"Next week, Friday lunch, I'll deliver it to your office."

She stood up as I stood up. "Thank- Okay, that sounds fine. Well, this has been a lovely chat. I must say you really do seem to have matured a lot in so little time, I'm sure everyone is very impressed with you. 

"You did a good thing today, it was very important that you told someone about that knife. It might put you in an uncomfortable position with your fellow classmates, but you just know that one day they'll understand why you speaking up were the actions of a hero." She spoke cheerfully.

I blinked at her. I felt like I was hearing her speak through a funnel.

"Thanks miss." I smiled at her. "I hope you're right."

My reflection in the mirror on the wall with the text  "You are the fairest of them all..." printed above my head seemed to show a childish, hopeful expression on my face. I had no idea where I summoned it from. 

She smiled warmly at me and patted my back as I left the room.