Record Store Blues // Steve Harrington

Chapter 3

It was quarter to midday on the clock. I knocked on the guidance counselor's door and opened it. "Hello, I booked an appointment with you-"

"Ah, yes, Marla Mendoza." I nodded. "Please, come in, come in."

Mr Zissou's desk was decorated with cat figurines of all shapes and sizes - Tabby, siamese, bengal, and even siberian. On a shelf was a series of framed pictures of himself. Great, this is the person i'm trusting on my path to college. He reached into his drawer and grabbed a file that had my name on it.

"So, I just wanted to ask one question," I said, passing him my college essay. He raised his eyebrows to signal for me to continue. "The amount of extracurriculars won't influence the selection process, does it?"

He shook his head. "It's 1984 - They look more on your grades than anything else."

I was relieved. I told him about my poor attempt to get into the Science Club, and how that led me to being the star painter on the Decorating Committee. He quickly scanned my file.

"It says here that you're thinking of going into a career in Science." I nodded. "You can add in your other activities too from your other years too... So add in music, environmental and - oh, there you go, science club from sophomore year."

"Okay, great." I replied. "I'll be sure to add it to my application-"

"So where are you applying? East Coast or West Coast?" He pressed.

"Indiana State, Michigan, Washington - I really like the Biology department in Chicago."

"Chicago? Perfect! I know an old friend who works there. I'll give him a call as soon as we're done to let him to know to look out for your name."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

I reached for my bag and got out my college essays. "Do you have time to go over these?"

He took the papers. "Of course!" He enthused, even patting the head of a cat figurine. "Have you thought about going Ivy League?"

I laughed, "No way."

"You're grades are quite competitive. I heard in the Teacher's Lounge that you're in the top five percent."

I played with the end of my sleeves. "Well in a small school like this there isn't a lot of competition."

"I'm a Princeton grad myself," He said, admiring his portraits on the shelf.

"Really?" I said astonished. The cat-themed clock meowed as it struck 12 o'clock.

He went through a binder and handed me a few papers. I realised that they were applications to Harvard, Princeton, Yale...

"How about you work on your essays for these and I'll go through the other ones and in our next appointment we go through them?"

"I really don't want to," I honestly told him.

"There's no harm in trying."

*

"I just don't believe Mr Zissou went to Princeton," Robin commented, taking a hard bite out of her fruit roll-up. "He probably only went to community college. I mean, why would he stay here if he got to go there."

"Because his cats are here," I joked.

I didn't want to bring out the spring rolls that mom had prepared for lunch for me and left it at the bottom of my bag. I planned to eat it at work later that day when no one was around. Instead, I brought out a packet of Doritos I got from the cafeteria.