Seventeen-years-old Luna Haley Grey is a shy, awkward little nerd who's idea of a good time is drawing and reading comic books. But after a friendship blossoms between her and South Cross's handsome star footballer, Garrett Carson, her life is turne...
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"Hey, Mr. Rowland. What do you want to talk about?" I ask the college guidance counselor as I walk to his desk in his office.
Okay, office might be too much of a stretch for it. When you think of an office, you would think of a pretty big space, accommodating a desk and computers and chairs, but really, the college guidance counselor's office is just a small room next to the teacher's lounge.
When you enter it, you'll be bombarded by a myriad of college pictures and 'Never Give Up Because You're Not Dead Yet' type of posters; considering that they decorate every inch of the small room.
Mr. Rowland looks up from his laptop and when his eyes meet mine, his face lights up with a smile.
"Hey, Hunter! Go ahead and grab a seat," he says, gesturing towards the many colorful chairs at the front of his desk.
I pull up a simple white one and sit down.
"White, huh?" he asks, arching his brows.
"Yeah?"
"It's said that people who are drawn towards white - out of all other colors - are drawn to innocence and purity. They're trying to convince others that they have selfless means behind their actions," he adds.
Okay? Where did this character analysis suddenly come from?
"Err, thanks? I guess?"
He chuckles and looks back down to his laptop.
"Okay, so!" he exclaims, theatrically clasping his hands together. "The reason I called you here is because I want to discuss about your college application," he says, before looking back at me.
"I thought you will discuss this on career week next month. Or is there something wrong with my application?" I ask.
"Not at all! In fact, you're one of the South Cross's best contenders," he explains, the smile never leaving his face.
Since when is this a competition?
"And because you're such a great student, I want to suggest something that would spice up your application," he says, scrolling down his computer mouse.
"I see that you're captain of the basketball team and your academics so far are above expectation for such a pretty face," at which he laughs.
I stifle a laugh myself. God, that sounds quite prejudiced coming from a guidance counselor.
"But, I think you should join an activity that doesn't involve sports. Not to be really absorbed in it or anything. Just to... you know? Dabble, as they say. Just a little something extra from the normal electives. . Something like art or choir or theater, perhaps? There's a play they're working on for next-"
"Theater? No freaking way," I snicker at the thought of it.
"Or something else, then. But I do hope you'll consider it. It might push you up the line cause there's a lot of good –mannered, athletic smart kids out there, you know?" he asks, eyebrows furrowed.
"Sure," I say just so that we can stop talking about it.
For some reason, his words rub me the wrong way and I don't want to hear any more of it.
"If you need any suggestions, I'll be happy to help!" he adds, enthusiastically.
"That's okay, Mr. Rowland. I think I got this," which means "Can we just please stop talking about it?"
He nods. An awkward moment of silence passes before he theatrically clasps his hands together again.
"Well, I think that's about it. You have basketball practice after this, I assume?"
I nod and he gives me permission to leave.
As I turn around to walk out of his office, I look back at my middle-aged counselor.
"By the way, Mr. Rowland?" I say.
"Yes, Hunter?" he asks, looking up from his laptop.
"I pick the white chair because it was the closest," I say and before he could respond, I walk out of the room.
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I'm not an overachiever. At least, that's not the way I see it.
With that said, I am aware that I'm a good student. I study for tests and quizzes, I do my homework - not all of it because that's almost impossible, join sports and try to not be passive in class and my electives.
It's not like I care that much about school and feel like I need to ace every class I have. Or even be a valedictorian - which never even crossed my mind
So when the college guidance counselor tells me to join another after school activity just so that I have some 'extra credits', I... kind of don't give a crap.
School is hard as it is, okay? As a typical American high schooler, I have 7 classes each day.
After school, I have basketball practice on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and since I have to pay for a lot of school things - like books - myself, I have to go to my job as a waiter soon after.
If I'm lucky, sometimes I can get a part-time job after school on days I don't have basketball. If not, that's the only time I would get to hang out with my friends at the hostel.
The last thing I need is another stupid activity to cram in that schedule.
After the meeting with Mr. Rowland, I had to run to basketball since I usually am the one who would start the warm-up and get things going. And now, I'm kind of late.
When I got to the basketball court, most of my teammates are already there.
As expected, my best friend, Cameron, is already leading the other boys for warm up. Which is unnecessary; really, because these high schoolers can totally do that by themselves, but the coach always insist for there to be a leader.
Now, instead of walking straight to them, I decide that I will watch Cameron lead them for a bit instead.
Cameron is standing in front of the other boys with his hands pushing his head upwards.
He can't see me, but the rest of team can. They keep glancing at me, probably wondering why I'm not walking towards them.
I like seeing Cameron speak up once in a while. He's always pretty quiet and reserved in front of large crowds . Unlike me, his voice is soft and his orders sound - somehow - kind.
Although he lacks authority, I'm pretty sure he is aware of how many girls who are head-over-heels for him. He has some really nice raven-black hair and the coolest pair of blue eyes girls just can't stop talking about.
After a minute or two, I walk towards the group and tap Cameron's shoulder.
He turns around. "Speak up, dude. You got a jacked-up tongue or something?" I ask, laughing lightly before I walk into the lines of boys in front of him.
Cameron just chuckles and continues the warm up, his voice louder this time.
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Hey, thanks for reading chapter 3. I find it hard to write from a boy's POV. I hope I did okay. How does Hunter sounds to you? I intend to make him kinda cold but with a softer side. (pretty cliche, I know) Ps: the picture above is what Hunter looks like, but minus the tatoos.
Do comment and vote. You have no idea how much that'll make my day :)
