A fresh start is exactly what London McLaren needs in order to forget the demons of her past. A new last name, a new town and a new school.
She's about to start her final year of high school, ready to obey her parent's orders to keep her head down a...
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Monday, March 30th, 2020
I drum my fingers nervously against the cold metal school chair. It's digging into my back as I sit patiently out the front of Mrs Thornbury's counselling office.
The day after Kennedy revealed that someone else in town had been affected by my brother's crimes, I booked a counselling session. You had to do it through a private school forum, typing in your details and session time. I'd pressed the ASAP button which probably made it look like an emergency. Maybe it was.
It's three-thirty. School ended fifteen minutes ago. I had to tell my parents that I was staying back at the library to do homework. They didn't ask questions. We still weren't really speaking.
The door to Mrs Thornbury's office swings open. A student who I've never seen before walks out, teary-eyed.
"We'll talk some more next week, love," the woman says. She wraps her arm around the boy before he walks off.
I can only presume this is Mrs Thornbury. I'd never actually seen her in person.
Despite having multiple year level assemblies that preached the importance of our wellbeing, Kennedy has told me that Mrs Thornbury didn't leave her office much. She was booked out all the time. I had been lucky enough to get a session with her.
"London Hall?"
My fingers stop drumming on the chair and I stand up.
"Eh...yeah. Hi," I stammer, giving her a small wave.
She smiles at me, her eyes lighting up.
Mrs Thornbury had small round glasses perched at the end of her nose, making her seem much older than she looked. Her frizzy brown hair hung around her face, except for two strands that were pushed back with bobby pins. She wore a floral floor-length dress that made her look as if she was about to attend Coachella and not a therapy session.
I was nervous. The way she was looking at me made it abundantly clear that she knew that too.
"Well, I'm Mrs Thornbury but you can call me Sal. All my students are allowed to call me Sal," she smiles, ushering me inside her office with an outstretched arm.
Sal. She was clearly trying to make me feel comfortable. It wasn't working.
"Take a seat, London."
Her office wasn't really what I had been expecting. There wasn't a desk like in a Principal's office. Instead, there were two couches, both a bright pastel pink. A large coffee table with an array of paint-splattered colours sat in between the couches. The walls were covered in posters, most of them regarding wellbeing phone numbers and websites available for teens.
Mrs Thornbury sits on the couch opposite to me, crossing one leg over the other.
"So, before we begin, I'd just like to get to know you a bit," Mrs Thornbury smiles.
