Two Broken Souls

chapter four

Every few months, each student is required to meet with their guidance counselor to discuss future plans. Whether that means going to college, taking a gap year, or even deciding to not attend overall.

But for me, I seem to have a lot more meetings with mine, compared to my friends. This is our eighth meeting this year alone. Foster has been here for the last decade, so I know that she had my siblings. Maybe that's why we have so many meetings.

Foster is a nice lady. I haven't had any problems with her these past few years. She actually looked out for me. She gives me all the classes I want to make sure I have the best schedule possible. Compared to my friends I was lucky one.

I do sometimes zone out whenever she talks about how she went to Georgetown and was starting to be a lawyer but then changed her mind when she found her passion in helping students and that's when she decided to become a guidance counselor.

It was a cute story the first time I heard it.

But now, I don't really care for that story, but she loves to bring up the fact that she went to Georgetown in every conversation we have. It's worse than Callahan when he brings up Stanford.

Foster types away on her computer before giving me her full attention. "How are you doing, Mia?"

I sit on my hands and my backpack is on the floor next to me. "I'm fine."

"Mia," Ms. Foster said in a stern tone. "Your grades are slipping, you're skipping class, and you're in danger of not graduating."

That seems a little dramatic. I dropped from an A to a B in two classes and I've only skipped four classes in the last week. I still have time to make up for all my work. Graduation is like three months away.

"Okay." Was all I responded to which seemed to annoy her.

To be honest I was even listening to her. I don't care that I'm not about to graduate, it doesn't matter to me. Who cares if I'm a 4.0 student or a high school underachiever. None of this matters in the end anyway.

Foster folded her hands over her desk. "Principal Alders said that he had a talk with you." She stated.

"He did." Was that supposed to be some kind of secret?

"Mia, come on. We don't want you to miss out on graduation with all your friends because of this technicality." Foster said.

I hated how adults had this effect on me. If they talk down to me, I give in. I felt like I was a little kid doing something wrong all over again.

My tongue hit the roof of my mouth. "Got it."

"Great!" She gave me her best smile. It's the same fake smile that I give to customers. Foster shifts in her chair. "Have you thought about your plans after high school? I know last time we talked, you said you were looking at NYU as your main college. Is that still true?"

"I haven't applied anywhere. I don't think I want to go to college anymore."

The deadline is in two weeks, we both know I'm going to apply. But I'll play along for her sake if needed.

"Well, you still have time to apply if you change your mind."

Since I was a little girl, I have dreamt about moving to New York and living out my fantasy of meeting new people, and having more life experiences. In a bigger city. I could make a better life. But that's just not true anymore.

I want so badly to tell her how I'm not okay. That I have so much pain inside me to the point where I would rather die than continue to feel this way. But instead I just smile at her and nod my head and tell her what I need to hear.

I sit back and for a moment I think she's given up on trying to help me. Then she says, "I'm worried about you. You need to meet us halfway."

"Okay." I didn't have the energy to fight her on this.

On my way to second period, in the school hallway. My friend Jessica, walked past me with her boyfriend, Adam. She was dressed in a nice romper with her golden locks tied up in a ponytail. Adam on the other hand was dressed up in a button up and black jeans. "You two look very dashing." I commented.

Jessica's arm was clinging to Adam's. "We won the cutest couple for senior superlatives." She was smiling wide. "We're on our way to take our photo."

Oh, that's right. Senior superlative photos are today. That's why the cafeteria was closed down and had streamers and a backdrop.

I smiled and let them be.

Since Langston High worked on block day schedules, my first class was second period French with Madam Bassett who was a nice older woman; she and her husband never had any kids so she always treated her students like her own children.

I always loved hearing her stories about how she studied abroad in France and lived there before moving back to the states. She never said why she moved back and I don't think it was by choice because of the way she talks about France. I question why she ever left.

"Welcome, Miss Stovall," Madame Bassett said, hanging me a paper while taking my pass. "Nice of you to join us." she lightly attempted to joke, yet no one laughed.

I looked at her straight in the face, unfazed by her comment. "Good morning." I responded.

Madame Bassett cleared her throat. "Go ahead and take your seat." She pointed towards the half filled class. There were a lot of absences today.

I passed by Harry on the way to my seat who gave me a small smile but I avoided eye contact with him at the last second as Madame Bassett continued on with her lesson.

"As I was saying," Mrs. Bodeut continued on. "The last big assignment for this class is an eight page essay about the history of France." Groans emerge from the entire class except me. I'd much rather write a report than give a presentation. "There are many topics you can choose from." she thoroughly explained, with her slideshow presentation playing behind her. "Don't wait too long to start this paper. Graduation is fast approaching."

I don't even listen as Madame Basset goes over her expectations for the report. Instead, I picked at my hair. I cut a few inches off almost two weeks ago and it still feels shorter than my hair actually is.

Ainsley Bishop pokes me from behind and hands me a note. Madame Basset makes us put our phones in a holder in front of the class every class period. This is the next best way to communicate. A hand written note on binder paper.

We should talk. -Harry

I look up and catch his eyes, a couple seats over. I hold up his note and rip it into four tiny pieces. I let the ripped up pieces sit on the end of my desk. Less than a minute later, another note was handed to me. I didn't open it this time. I don't have anything to say to him.

Just because I gave him a ride home doesn't automatically make us friends.

After the bell rings, I hang back. Freshman year, I used to rush from class to class, but now I take my time. Harry lingers for a moment, waiting to see what I do, but as I make no attempt to move, he grabs his phone and leaves.

Outside the classroom, my ex boyfriend Jared is waiting for me at my locker. At least he's not alone. Paige and Aubrey come just behind him with Aubrey's arms wrapped around her on again off again boyfriend who's name I can never remember.

Jared tries to make a small conversation with me, but stops as soon as he sees Harry walking towards us. I freeze, clutching my binder.

I know that Harry and Jared have been sworn enemies since middle school. I don't know the whole story but it went something along the lines of this. Jared used to be the most popular boy in our town until Harry came along and all the attention was on him. It had been a constant battle of who was better. Jared even tried to run for student president just to spite Harry and withdrew when he knew he was going to lose.

Harry gave me a head nod and just kept waking after that. He didn't even bother to turn around and look, but somehow I knew he could feel my eyes on him.