Collateral Damage

Chapter Ten

"Have you spoken to Ana lately?" Ms. Walker inquired.

I shook my head. It was my third appointment with Ms. Walker. Almost two weeks had passed since I had last spoken to Ana—the longest we had ever gone without talking to each other. Judging from how she went out of her way to avoid me whenever we happened to spot each other in the hallway, it was only going to get longer.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," she said softly. "It must be very difficult, on top of everything else you're going through."

I shrugged. "She's got to live her own life."

At that point, I was more tired than hurt. Grieving Matt and Kody took up too much energy; I didn't have any left for Ana. I did get a little sad on the night of the homecoming dance, thinking about what kind of dress she wore and if she and Danny went to Olive Garden. I couldn't help wondering if I should have forced myself to go along with them. No, it was all for the best. She wouldn't have been able to enjoy herself with me around; I would have been a giant downer, sitting out every dance, obsessing over Matt's absence...

One of us ought to be happy.

"How have you been coping with this?" Ms. Walker asked, concerned.

You mean aside from fantasizing about pulling out Bernadette's hair? "I don't know...I've been trying to focus on my schoolwork..." I chewed my lip. "And I've been kind of hanging out with John Riley lately."

"Ah, yes, he told me that last week," she said.

"Really?" I was startled. He talked about me at his own appointment? Then again, I reasoned, it wasn't like it was some deep dark secret.

"I find that very interesting," she commented, bending over her notepad to scribble something. "The two of you have a lot in common."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"And you're finally making an effort to move on and meet new people," she continued, ignoring my question. "That shows progress."

"It's not like that," I said hastily. "We're just hanging out."

"I see," she drawled in a way that didn't sound like she believed me at all.

"We're just friends!" I insisted.

She raised her eyebrows at my tone. "There's no need to get defensive."

"Sorry," I muttered. "I wasn't trying to be defensive." Even though I knew she was doing her best to help, something about the deliberately calm way she spoke to me always had a way of getting on my nerves.

"Don't be sorry." She smiled slightly. "It's only natural. You are a redhead."

I closed my eyes to avoid rolling them. Words cannot express how much I hate the old "redheads have a temper" stereotype. It's just as ridiculous as assuming that all blondes are dumb. There were plenty of blonds and brunettes in the world that were outspoken, why were redheads the only one with that reputation? Yes, I could be passionate about some things, but being a redhead didn't automatically make me a ticking time bomb. Matt once joked that I was too nice to be a redhead.

"But tell me, why did you get so sensitive about your relationship with John just now?" Ms. Walker continued.

That was another thing that bothered me about her. She analyzed everything I did or said in front of her. I didn't understand why she always had to do that. She was a guidance counselor, not a psychologist. How was scrutinizing my behavior supposed to "help me through my pain"? All it did was make me feel like the frogs we dissected in biology: being sliced open and having every flaw examined. At least death spared the frogs from embarrassment.