H2O | ✔

Chapter Twenty : Feelings Counselor

Sam

43 weeks before Mesi woke up...

I was studying in study hall, you know, like I was supposed to, when there was a knock at the door. In came a woman, probably in her late twenties and perky as hell. She walked up to the study hall teacher who sat at a computer in the front of the room and whispered something in her ear. I'd never seen this woman around school before, but she had a name tag, so she definitely worked there. I eyed her over my conic sections worksheet.

"Samuel Carter?" The woman looked around with eyes as wide as a doe. She wobbled on the balls of her feet, searching the room for me. I raised my hand, to signal that I was there, and she motioned for me to follow her. I asked with a nod of my head if I should bring my backpack, but she shook her head and walked out.

I found her waiting for me in the hallway.

I knew whatever it was she had to talk to me about couldn't be that bad if I wasn't leaving class for good. But being pulled out by a strange lady wasn't great, either.

As we walked, she glanced up at me every now and then, and attempted to make conversation about school. I could tell her questions were thought-out. Not just someone with nothing else to say. "How do you like school, Samuel? What do you think of your teachers?"

I shrugged, not really wanting to talk to a weird woman I didn't know. "I don't know, they're fine."

She nodded. "Do they assign a lot of homework? Do you get stressed out a lot?"

Again, I shrugged. "No more than normal."

We walked down three flights of stairs to the basement, where she led me through hallways I'd never been down before and stopped us in front of a small office. On the wall, a plaque read, Amy Gregory, Feelings Counselor. Great.

After unlocking the door and taking her seat near her desk, she motioned for me to take my own. I studied the room, taking notice of the bright colors, stuffed animals, childish toys, bouncy balls and beanbag chairs. Typical.

When my gaze returned to the woman in front of me, the same fake grin I'd seen before was still plastered on her face. She probably thought it was her job to be peppy and always happy. I never trusted people like that. It's like they didn't feel the same burdens everyone else did, and how could I tell anything to someone who had no chance of understanding it? I mean, I liked people who were upbeat and optimistic, but it was tiring to be around those couple individuals who never stopped smiling.

A clipboard was resting in Ms. Gregory's lap, her hands clasped together on top. "Sorry I haven't introduced myself properly. I'm Ms. Gregory, the feelings counselor. Your parents emailed me, saying you've been having a hard time in school, and I just wanted to touch base with you to see if there was anything I could do to help?" She asked it like it was a question, but I don't think it was. I was pretty sure I wasn't getting out of there without making up some fake bullshit story about simply being stressed out and how I was getting back on track and things were looking up.

And then what she said really processed. My parents called her? I couldn't believe them. I was furious that they would go behind my back to some f^cking feelings counselor that none of us had ever met, just because they didn't have the time to try and help me on their own. I was already going to see Grace once a week. Was that not enough? Did they have to publicly embarrass me, too? I silently wondered how many people in that study hall knew just who Ms. Gregory was, and saw me walk out with her. I was mortified.

"Did you know they contacted me?" She tilted her head like cutesy girls do in anime when they're trying to ask a question in an innocent way. I had a feeling Ms. Gregory knew I was completely blind-sided here.

I pushed on tight smile. "Of course. They told me."

"Great!" Ms. Gregory clapped her hands together like hearing that my parents had notified me that they were sending me to the feelings counselor was the best thing in the world. "Well, I took the liberty of looking through your current grades," of course she did,"and I did see a lot of missing assignments. Why don't we take this time to come up with a way to make sure they all get some attention?"

And that's how I spent the rest of my precious study hall time filling out a chart with the feelings counselor about how I would spend every ounce of free time for the next two weeks on pointless worksheets and packets that wouldn't mean anything in ten years. Okay, I was exaggerating. If anyone knew how much every grade counted towards college, it was me. I'd been reminding myself since I was a toddler, and so had my parents.

...

I walked down the street, arm over Mesi's shoulder, breathing in the cool air and trying to think about anything but that horrible encounter with Ms. Gregory. And Mesi was the best distraction a guy could ask for. She was beautiful, smart, witty...mine. I knew I didn't own her like some guys pretended to own their girlfriends—no one could ever put a leash on Mesi—but I also felt like I had a piece of her in my heart, and she had a piece of me, as cheesy as that sounds. I was deep in the cheesy stage of the relationship.

We'd just come out of the movie theater. I didn't even remember what the movie was about, I spent the whole time running my fingers over Mesi's hand and wondering how she managed to make it so smooth, and watching her fantastic reactions to the characters. My hands were always so dry and cracked, worn, calloused, and blistering from lifting weights to get in shape for soccer or helping my dad around the house.

"Do you want some ice cream?" I asked as we passed the shop, remembering my birthday from just a week before. Mesi shook her head,"I'm good. Let's just walk home very slowly."

I was happy to oblige. More time with Mesi was exactly what I needed.

The walk was spent mainly in silence, the two of us watching each other and the world around us, simply enjoying the other's company. It was nice, peaceful, relaxing. I appreciated that Mesi seemed to sense that I didn't want to talk much. She was always like that—knowing my feelings before I said anything. It could get frustrating, considering how hard I sometimes had to work to figure her out. I didn't know if I ever would, if it was even possible to un-puzzle a girl like Mesi. She was a mystery saga and I was a captive reader.

We stopped on her front porch like normal, and like normal I gave her kiss before she turned towards the door. This time, she turned back with a knowing look and said,"I know something's been bothering you, Sam. I also know you're not up to talking about it just yet, but you need to know that I'm here if you want me."

Without waiting for a reply, the door shut behind her and once again I was standing alone and baffled on the front step of her house.

A/N: Yes, it's a little short. Yes, it's unedited. I'M SORRY. (I'm not saying that in a stop-pressuring-me-people sort of way, more of a joking I-know-I-have-to-work-on-it way.) Let's count the amount of horribly annoying distractions I've had recently: being away, projects, make-up work, and now being sick. Gotta love the way life works out, right?

Okay, that's it. Just remember to stay amazing, guys!