The Return

Chapter Thirty Five

Scarlett

Monday May 4th 2018.

The first time Scarlett Leighton started religiously attending her sessions with Dr. Bradley, was a month after their consultation. She hadn't exactly sorted out a payment plan. When she discussed the cost of each session with the receptionists, she resolved to never show her face there again.

She already sold half her stuff and Jenna-Sue even rented out the guest bedroom. Scarlett went as far as getting a job at a gas station an hour away from school and even still, she was a few hundred dollars short of the consultation fee.

That was until the day she told him.

It was the middle of third period by the time she bothered making her way to school for the day. The air reeked of kids who missed out on the invention of deodorant. It was what she got for coming in shortly after gym class.

She abruptly turned the corner by the chemistry lab and clutched her textbooks closer to her chest. She felt a dangerous combination of restless and agitated.

Over the phone, he insisted she come to see him in his office.

A cold hand smacked and clutched her butt cheek beneath her dress.

She turned, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek. "What the fuck?" Scarlett seethed.

He had his hands up.

She hadn't taken the menace that was the baseball team into consideration.

Grinning down at her was the outfielder; Brent McAllister, with a triumphant grin on his smug face.

"Hey, don't get too angry, I don't want you to try and kill yourself again." He pushed past her and gave his starting teammates a round of high-fives.

Nathan Pinbrough's office was four doors down.

She couldn't afford a distraction.

She heard footsteps pounding the stairwell. She turned. Lucas Flint. He had a hard look on his face.

"Hmm," He mused, his eyes roaming her body. To her dismay, he seemed pleased with what he saw. The free-flowing sunshine yellow dress wasn't for him. Neither was it for Brent and his pose of assholes. The dress, the newly braided hair, and the sandals were for her. She couldn't remember the last time she put any effort into her outfit and in the spirit of new beginnings, she dug through her closet and forced herself into a dress.

"You never mentioned that you went to rehab." She adjusted the books in her hands.

He joined her at the foot of the stairs and shook his head. "You never asked." He extricated himself.

She laughed nervously. "Did it work though?"

She searched his eyes for a fleck of familiarity. His interest in their conversation was quickly dissipating. "Does it look like it did?"

She stood in silence, it felt like the world was gambling to see how long before she crumbled.

She wouldn't. She was stronger than that.

"So, you're saying I shouldn't waste my time?" She tried again.

"I get it you're going through shit, but look around, Leighton, we're all waist-deep in our own free-trial of hell." He paused. "I'm only telling you this because you care about my boy Malcolm. Taking those pills was a fucked-up thing to do. There's nothing wrong with you, you're not depressed or mentally fucked up, you're looking for attention. There's nothing you're going through that's any different from what happens to everyone in every high school one way or another."