Lay Me Down

14. Kindness.

{Cary}

In fourth period, Cary's schedule told him he had to visit the school counsellor. He shifted his feet in front of his new locker for a full minute when the class bell rang, thinking about heading out the doors to the 7-Eleven to have a 50-minute smoke break. He hated counsellors and their questions and the way they were paid to pretend to care. By now he figured he could break a counsellor in two sessions, ducking their prying questions and pissing them off so they dropped the act. He had a feeling Pete wouldn't like that.

He made his feet go down the hallway to the counsellor's door with no idea what he was going to do with himself once he got there. Just because he was allowed to talk about all that shit now didn't mean he wanted to. Once was more than enough.

He bumped a knuckle on the opened door and sloped inside. In one glance, he checked out the small office space and the person settling back in her chair beside the desk, and then fixed his eyes on the window. There was a tree out there, with fresh green leaves moving in a breeze he couldn't feel.

"Ciaran, right?" Her voice was warm, like they weren't just meeting for the first time. He tucked his chin down, reminding himself that he was not allowed to slap her friendliness aside and hurt this person.

She checked the note on the thick file open on her deck. "Your worker says you prefer Cary."

Cary guessed every single thing he'd done wrong since Grade 2 was there in that file. He breathed shallowly so he wouldn't catch the stink of it.

"So." She gestured to the second chair for him to sit. "Why do you think you're here?"

Cary stayed where he was. Her nails were stickered with tiny Union Jacks, except her left pinkie. It was bare and bitten down to a nub.

She glanced up at his silence, and he made himself hold her eyes with the look his father used to give him—the one that said he was too stupid to live.

Oddly, a smile quirked her lips. "You planning to give me the Good Will Hunting treatment, Cary? That didn't work out too well for Will in the end."

He crossed his arms, setting his eyes back on the window. He was pretty sure she was making fun of him in some way that was over his head. It was a familiar feeling, and he curled himself tightly on the inside so he made a smaller target.

She sighed and fluffed up her hair with her fingers, making her 'fro stand up an inch higher than it had before. "Look, I hated counsellors too when I was your age. So I'll start, okay? I'm here because sometimes kids at this school need someone to listen while they're going through a difficult time—or they need help working on a goal, like not getting upset with teachers or feeling anxious."

She didn't look at him while she talked, which made it easier to watch her sideways. There was a beat of silence when maybe she thought he would talk.

She laid her hands flat on her bare desk, lacing her fingers together. "And obviously, I have spoken with your social worker, and I have some idea why you're here—although not as much as you might think. With a criminal investigation under way, I can't ask you any questions about your family. You can talk about whatever you want to talk about, but I won't bring it up if you don't."

Cary shifted his weight, feeling the way it didn't hurt to move anymore and figuring how long he could run, how fast he could twist away from a blow before his ribs tore with pain again. Was she saying he didn't have to talk about the shit his father did? He could just let his body heal and forget it?

"So ... I'm wondering what it would be like if we just worked on coping with school?" There was a pause, like she really was wondering about that. "Looks like you've had a rough couple years." She ran a thumb over the corner of the closed file. "I'm obviously concerned about the event that led to you being switched to King George. I'd like to talk about that at some point."