Out of Touch

What Do I Want

"A-line-a Moe-Rail." The guidance counselor steps out into the room.

Every. Fucking. Time.

"It's A-lena Moi-Rail." I sigh, standing up.

"Oh, I apologize." The guidance counselor says to me slowly, taking in my odd appearance. I know she is, I can follow her eyes. "Come back..." She hesitates before turning around.

I love this out of people. Their reactions of general discomfort to my odd disposition amuse me so. I grab my black purse, the buttons and keychains clinking quietly together. The other kids sitting in the waiting area watch, attempting to quickly process all that's on my bag in the moment I walk in front of them.

"I like your Jack and Sally Pop figures. Uh, keychains." One girl says.

I look behind with a slight smirk. "Thanks."

The girl has half white blonde hair, half black hair. She has a lip piercing. Interesting.

I make my way into the guidance counselor's office. Mrs. Possect. Her name is posted everywhere in her office. I never bother to remember this lady's name. She's never here when I need her, for scheduling conflicts. I don't even think she remembers me from my freshmen year or sophomore year. I change too often I suppose.

"So, since you're a junior, it's time to start talking about college." Her eyes are glued to my hair, which I've recently died an electric blue. I was tired of being auburn. "Do you have any idea what you'd like to get into?"

"Psychology," I state.

Her eyes fixate on my own. Finally. "Excuse me?"

"I'd like to go into psychology. I've been very interested in how people work." I lean forward onto the armrest of the chair.

"Well, then we'll have to give you a completely different set of courses next year..." She flips through my lists of records she has.

"Or you could have asked me when I entered as a freshman. I have known this was my destiny since I was born. I've always wanted to go into the medical profession. A dentist at age four, a pediatrician at age eight. I settled on psychology in sixth grade. Stuck with it ever since. Studied it on my own time because school never bothers to help until you're almost out. Thanks for the preparation."

"Mhm." Mrs. Possect nods. I smirk, I knew she wasn't listening to a word I said. This lady is too easy to read.

"So what do I have to do this year to get colleges to notice me?" I ask, slumping back in my chair.

"Well, I would highly advise you join the medical careers club. You should really try getting into some clubs or a sport." Mrs. Possect leaned back and started messing around on the computer. "I'll put some reminders in for myself that you'll have to take those classes next year. You can start meeting regularly with Mrs. Funkle, if you want to look at actual colleges."

"I don't do the whole making friends thing well." I shrug.

She looked at me with a face that read kinda already knew that. "Well, try to. This is high school, you can make do with anyone at this point."

I stared at her blankly. This was not the kind of help kids needed. What shitty college did she go to that she never learned proper care or time management?

"Thank you, so very much, ma'am," I said, sounding astonished. "I'm going to go now. Bless you, for helping me get one step closer to my dreams. God bless!"

I quickly exited, putting back my resting bitch face. Friends? I didn't need friends. They were just people. People with too many needs, too many wants, too much depression. They were fun to watch. Fun to destroy. But they weren't my forte.