CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
HARD OUT HERE — LILY ALLEN
It's hard out here for a bitch!
STELLA SAT QUIETLY with her hands resting on her thighs and her fingers tapping away. Her eyes roamed the room, avoiding the person sitting in front of her like they were Medusa and one look would turn her to stone. Every few seconds, her gaze would flicker to the ticking clock hanging on the wall. The monotonous sound was the only thing heard throughout the therapist's office.
The silence was killing her. Without the constant bickering of her friends, music playing, or distant waves ringing in her ears, the only stimulation she received were the thoughts running through her mind. They sounded like a river. Loud, fast, and determined. There were many things she could speak to Dr. Wolff about, but in the past half hour she hadn't said a word. Instead, she got lost in the current, too stubborn to take advantage of his willingness to listen.
Dr. Danny Wolff was fairly new to Kildare's only hospital, having arrived three years ago to replace the head of the psychiatry department. He was a nice man, although other student volunteers found him intimidating because of his height (he was well over six feet tall and towered over everyone) and his blunt way of speaking. She thought the same at first but after running into him so many times in the attending lounge, she came to learn that he was far less scary than everyone thought he was.
He liked sugary coffee, had a cat named Sassy, and wore silly patterned socks. Every winter, he rewatched all of the Harry Potter movies just like her and JJ, and he held a lot of knowledge about random topics and places—probably because he travelled a lot.
(From what her mother told her, Dr. Wolff got his bachelor's degree in Austria, his master's degree in Germany, and did a joint doctorate and medical degree Canada. He also worked in Luxembourg and Spain for a while before moving to the United States.)
Stella knew that he rarely counselled new patients. The last patient he took on was John B when his father first went missing, but that only lasted two sessions. Dr. Wolff was far too busy of a man, so the fact that he was sitting across from her meant her mother had something to do with it. He was the best their hospital had to offer and Emma only wanted the best for her kid.
Across the room, Dr. Wolff raised a brow and gave her an unimpressed look. In the thirty minutes since she walked into the room, Stella hardly said a word. He knew she would be a challenge but he didn't think their first session would be so quiet. From what he already knew about her, she seemed like she always had a lot to say.
"This would go a lot faster if you said something," he stated.
Stella crossed her arms over her chest. "I've got nothing to talk about."
He looked at her like she was a puzzle worth solving before continuing again. After a brief pause of silence, he asked, "Why are you here then?"
She appreciated his efforts but they were in vain. "You know why I'm here," she replied. "Everyone does. I don't need to tell you about it."
"It would help if you did."
"Maybe," she wagered. "Or maybe it would make it worse."
Dr. Wolff wrote something in his notebook and returned his attention back to her. He tried to be a pacifist and that didn't work, so maybe a different approach would. "Is that why you don't want to talk about your experiences? Because you fear that reliving them by vocalizing them will hurt you more?"
His bluntness caught her off guard. A feeling grew in the back of her throat where her neck met her shoulders and suddenly she felt frozen in her seat. The threat of nausea hung in her esophagus but she swallowed it down and hid her discomfort with sardonic humour. "I'm feeling very attacked right now," she said flatly, her face stoic and never betraying her true intentions of deflecting.
The corners of Dr. Wolff's lips quirked upwards. "You're stubborn," he almost chuckled, "I'll give you that. But I don't want you to feel attacked when you come in here. We'll work up to talking about the big stuff, yeah? Let's start with something smaller."
The successful evasion of talking about her feelings brought her comfort and for the first time since entering the room, she felt okay. She was able to outsmart Dr. Wolff. Maybe she could get through this without experiencing too much emotional distress.
"My mom told me to tell you that you owe her a bottle of vanilla coffee creamer," Stella stated. If Dr. Wolff wanted a smaller topic to talk about, then she would give him one. "She knows it was you who finished the one in the attending lounge fridge."
He let out an amused huff. "You are a lot like your mother. Did you know?" He watched as her head tilted in confusion. "When you were missing, her boss sent her to see me too. I would ask her about herself and she would talk about a TV show she hated. I would ask her about you and she would talk about the weather."
Stella could sense where the conversation was going. The point he was trying to make was that he knew she was deflecting. He had seen it before in her mother and now he can see it in her. He could see through her. Perhaps she underestimated the Austrian man.
"You both don't like talking about your feelings," he stated. He didn't give her time to respond before speaking again. "I'll get your mother's coffee creamer after we discuss why you're here."
It was a checkmate moment. There was no room for argument anymore. No more moves that Stella could take to get out of this situation.
"Fine," she said defeated. "But we'll only talk about it on my terms."
Dr. Wolff nodded. "Of course."
Stella took a deep breath, held it in her chest, then slowly exhaled. "I'm here because I went missing for six weeks and my mom thinks that going to therapy will help resolve any trauma I've accumulated."
He nodded again. "And how is your relationship with your mother?"
"...It's good?" Out of everything he could've gotten from her statement, her relationship with her mother was what he focused on? She supposed it could've been worse. He could've asked her to unpack all of her baggage and lay her experiences out to dry. "Honestly, she's my best friend and I'm really lucky I get to say that."
"Why's that?"
She shrugged. "A lot of people have bad relationships with their mom." Kie. JJ. John B. Sarah. "If they even have one at all."
Dr. Wolff hummed. "And what about your dad? Do you have a good relationship with him?"
Stella almost laughed. "My dad is an abusive self-serving prick."
Two avenues of possibilities opened up before Dr. Wolff and he considered each one carefully. He could ask about her father—which seemed to be a complex topic—or he could ask about the people she knew who had bad parental relationships. One of them was more invasive than the other.
"Why don't we leave your father for another session?" She nodded and he changed the subject. "Your friends, the ones you went missing with, are you referring to them when you say some people don't get along with their parents?"
"Kind of," Stella confessed. "I mean, you've heard of Sarah Cameron and her family's involvement in Sheriff Peterkin's death, right? She basically orphaned herself. She lives with me and my mom now. My hus..." Dr. Wolff raised a brow. "My boyfriend, JJ, lives with us too. Same with John B. Point is, most of my friends have strained relationships with their parents. Like I said, I'm lucky that I don't."
"It must be hard to see the people you care about lack something you have. Have you ever felt bad about that?"
Stella's spine stiffened at the question. She felt guilt about it all the time. It lurked in the shadows and whispered in her ear. In recent months, she found that it was clawing its way to the surface.
Sometimes it felt like she wasn't actually a Pogue. Sometimes it felt like she was pretending. She had a lot of things her friends didn't. She made it out of the Cut. She had a loving and supportive parent, money, perfect grades, a golden girl reputation, and the privilege of making mistakes. She was well aware of what she had versus what her friends didn't.
"I have," she answered truthfully. Her stare burned a hole in the carpet as she got lost in her thoughts. "I've felt guilty about it and, I... I have a bad habit of comparing my life to my friends'. With parents... With everything. I used to spend the whole day at John B's house—this run down shack on the marsh—listening to him and JJ shit on the Kooks for having money and these big crazy houses, and then I would go home to my big crazy house while they struggled to pay the bills. I think the guilt is why I sometimes do what they ask of me, even when I know I shouldn't. Like I'm making up for something I did wrong even though it's not my job. I know that it's nobody's fault. Nobody asked to born into the life they live, but that doesn't make it fair."
Dr. Wolff nodded along with her explanation. He listened to her words with consideration and made mental notes about her caretaking tendencies. But what caught his attention was how she identified her feelings and the way they affected her behaviour. Not a lot of people could do that. She acknowledged what the problem was and had the tools to fix it. She just didn't know how.
In that moment, he understood why Emma spoke so highly about her. Stella was insanely smart. "You're very self aware."
The young girl shrugged. "I intellectualize my feelings." She glanced at the clock and saw that there was five minutes left to their session. "Can I leave early? I have a meeting with my guidance counsellor after this."
Dr. Wolff checked his watch, then shut his notebook. "I've got my work cut out for me. I'll see you again soon."
Emma was waiting for her in the hallway with a worried look on her face. They agreed earlier that Stella would take her car to school and drop it off when she was finished. Her hands were folded and tucked underneath her chin as she smiled at her daughter. "So?" She asked. "How did it go?"
"It was fine," Stella replied, not wanting to give too much away.
Her mother nodded. "Good, good." She hesitated for a moment but it was so brief that Stella almost missed it. "And you like Dr. Wolff?"
"Yeah," Stella's brow raised, "he's nice."
Visible relief made itself known when Emma's shoulders relaxed. "Ah. Good. I'm, uh— I'm glad to hear that."
The older woman had a thoughtful look in her eyes, leaving Stella to study her in confusion. Why was her mother acting so odd?
"Mom?" she called, snapping her out of her daze. "Can I have the car keys please?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah." She dug through her pockets and brandished the key fob to her Audi. "Here. The parking pass is in the glove compartment and— Oh! I ordered new phones for everyone... except Kie, her mom already bought her one. They're supposed to come in today so look out for those when you go home later. I'll pay everyone's phone bill until they can themselves. I just got the basic plan so it's not a lot."
Even though her mom had a history of buying expensive items for her friends, it still shocked her to hear that she bought all of them new phones. Echoes of her conversation about guilt crept into her mind. "Okay." She nodded, taking the keys. Her mind then backtracked and her brows furrowed. "Wait, since when do you talk to Kie's mom?"
"Since you went missing. She's good company." Emma felt her phone buzz and looked down at it with pursed lips. She was being paged to the emergency room. Leaning forward, she placed a quick kiss on her daughter's head. "I've got to go. Love you. Good luck with your guidance counsellor."
Stella watched as her mother walked down the hall and sighed.
POPE WAS SITTING outside of her guidance counsellor's office when she arrived. He was tapping his foot nervously and gripping the arms of the old chairs commonly seen in desolate waiting rooms. When he heard the door open, his head shot up and a small wave of relief washed over him to find that it was Stella. The feeling dissipated moments later.
"You have a meeting too?" She asked as she sat down next to him.
Pope gave a curt nod. "At 12:15."
"Weird. Me too."
The office door in front of them opened to reveal their guidance counsellor. She regarded them with a look of pity before beckoning them into her room. The two friends shared a raised brow and followed her in.
After telling them how glad she was about their safe return, their guidance counsellor frowned and folded her hands on her desk. In a very somber tone, she explained the consequences of their actions.
Their academic records were in shambles.
Stella wasn't an idiot. Six weeks was a long time and life moved on regardless of her personal problems. She knew how behind she would be in all of her classes. She knew that she'd have to work her ass off to catch up. What she didn't know was that her spots in all the advanced placement classes were given away.
She and Pope had different reactions. They didn't think it would be this bad. They were at risk for not graduating on time.
Denial was the first stage of grief. Stella was cold and mechanical. She heard the words clearly but couldn't properly process them. She asked about extra credit, taking night school classes, and enrolling in summer school—anything that would help her and Pope. But all of her solutions were shut down with the claim that overworking themselves would be detrimental to their adjustment period. As if adjusting to normal life after being stranded on a deserted island was the hardest thing they've ever had to do.
(It wasn't.)
Bargaining came next. Pope, bless his heart, was trying his best not to freak out. The news hit him fast and hard. He argued and pleaded, but their counsellor remained firm in her stance.
Half an hour later they found themselves in the back of a lower level science class wondering how much force would be needed to shove a pencil through their eye to put them out of their misery. To make matters worse, Stella was stuck sitting beside her ex-boyfriend from freshman year. He tried to speak to her so often that even Pope had to tell him to shut up.
Rage was slowly bubbling under their skin and it took a total of ten minutes for them to lose their mind. When their teacher brought out a cup of dyed water and a celery stalk to demonstrate "how plants eat their food", the pair stood from their seats and walked out of the room. They grumbled under their breaths and as they marched across the school's lawn, they stuck their middle fingers up in the air without any care for who would see it.
It was bullshit. They were the smartest kids in that school—possibly even on the island—and while they would usually never ask for special treatment, they genuinely believed the school's administration would grant them with it. Between the two of them, they had countless academic accolades spanning from science fair medals and decathlon trophies to debate championships and potential scholarships. If anyone could put Kildare on the map, it was them.
The drive to Heyward's was filled with bitter comments about how everything they worked for had been lost. And when they pulled up to the front of store, Pope got out of the Audi and shut the door without saying goodbye.
His loud departure caught the attention of Cleo who was on the deck cleaning fish. Her eyes met Stella's and the latter shrugged, letting her know that the meeting with their counsellor didn't go well.
With a slight frown, Cleo followed the boy into the store with every intention of cheering him up. The small action reminded Stella of JJ. All she wanted to do was find him and tell him everything that happened. His arms would be the greatest comfort.
Another wave of anger swelled and washed over her as she drove home. It was different this time. The rage she felt now was heavier. It hurt more and was eerily similar to the feeling of disappointment.
She gave her blood, sweat, and tears to be at the top of her class. She sacrificed parties and nights out with her friends so she could study. Her time was given without complaint. Volunteering, clubs, sports. She did everything right. She gave up so much of herself to ensure that when college applications came around, she was in the position to get into wherever she wanted. All of this was for nothing. Prestigious universities rarely consider people who repeated junior year.
Stella sat in her driveway for what felt like hours just staring blankly at the space in front of her. She was half tempted to scream in frustration. She knew what would happen if she followed her friends onto the Coastal Venture that day many weeks ago. She knew the risks and John B even gave her an out. She should have taken it. Why didn't she take it?
She was sick and tired of losing things. First the gold, then the cross, and now her future. With an annoyed groan, she got out of the car and walked up the front steps.
JJ was in the kitchen cutting oranges when he heard the door open. While Stella went to therapy and met with her counsellor, he spent the day inspecting his old house. He was still unsure about selling it and got lost in the memories the walls kept secret. His trip down memory lane left a bittersweet taste in his mouth and when he returned home, he decided to wash it down with a nice cold beer. The problem was that Marx Mansion didn't have any so he had to settle for wine and a fruity sangria.
The door opened and he paused with wide eyes. Emma would give him so much shit for rummaging through her wine cellar and participating in underaged day drinking. His body relaxed when he heard Stella kick her shoes off by the door with a frustrated huff.
"Hey, Sunny," he greeted once her footsteps entered the kitchen. "How was..." The words died on his tongue as he looked in Stella's direction. There was a crease between her brows, a frown on her face, and despair in her eyes. Things didn't go her way. Using the knife he was holding, he pointed at the stool across from him and motioned for her to sit. "Talk to your hubby. What's wrong?"
With pursed lips, she dragged the stool across the floor and did as instructed. "What's wrong is that all the advanced classes at school are full and I'm stuck in the lower level classes with Pope going over things we learned when we were ten!"
Her outburst caused his brows to raise. "Whoa. That's a lot of passion there."
"A lot of anger," she corrected. "I went from having a spot in a university program to watching food colouring move up a celery stalk. It's an insult to my intellect! It's— It's like watching kindergarteners learn how to count. And I don't mean to sound bratty—"
"I know."
"—but it's a complete lack of neuronal stimulation."
"I mean if stimulation is what you're looking for, baby, I'm right here."
The small smirk on his face fell when she reached forward and threw an orange peel at him. "Not helping, JJ!"
The blond laughed and opened one of the cabinets to pull out another wine glass. He figured Stella needed the drink too. "Okay," he started, facing her again. "What about the Kook Academy?"
Her head tilted as he filled the glass. "What about it?"
"Get your mom to call them." He shrugged, passing her the sangria before crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. "If you're paying thousands of dollars in tuition, they have to give you a spot, right? They know you're smart and it's not like you can't catch up. You'd dust everyone before they could even open a textbook."
The corners of her mouth turned upwards at the compliment but she didn't acknowledge it. Her mind was too focused on the fine details about how it would affect her friendship. "Yeah, but then I'd have to transfer again. I'd be leaving you, and Pope, and the others—"
"Who'd want you to go." He looked at her in bewilderment but quickly reminded himself that it was typical of her to think of others before herself. This whole conversation gave him deja vu. "Stel, this is your future we're talking about. You worked your ass off and we all know it. Pope and the others would want you to switch schools if it meant you got everything you wanted. A hundred percent. Besides, we both know you'd never go to class if you stayed at Kildare High."
Stella shrugged as she sipped her drink. "I wouldn't need to," she muttered. "I could finish all my classes with the highest grade without ever stepping foot in the building."
A chuckle fell from JJ's lips. "Which is why you should go to the Kook Academy. Neurotic stimulation or whatever."
Stella supposed he was right. The class sizes at Kildare Preparatory Academy were so small that one phone call from her mother would guarantee her a spot. Truthfully, she hadn't thought of that solution. To her, it was just another privilege that she had and her friends lacked. Perhaps her subconscious blocked it out to save her from feeling guilty.
JJ finished his sangria and studied her over the rim of his glass. It baffled him how similar they were sometimes. They both believed they were undeserving of good things, but whole heartedly believed the opposite for the other. Both of them needed to learn how to be kinder to themselves.
He could see her thoughts trying to drown her. Her doubts were sirens pulling her in and she was struggling to keep her head above water. She needed a lifeline and he vowed to always be there for her.
"Stella, listen to me."
The way he said her name made her know how serious he was. There was no amusement, no fondness, just the desire to be heard. When they locked eyes, he continued.
"You're a Kook," he stated plainly. She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off with the shake of his head. It was a statement that he had to come to terms with as well. "I know we say you aren't, but you are. And that's okay because you're also a Pogue. You keep having this thing where overthink yourself into a spiral. You don't want good things to happen to you because you feel bad that it didn't happen to someone else and you self-sabotage—"
"That's not true," Stella denied.
JJ raised a challenging brow. "Yes it is."
"No it's not."
He had a list of examples to prove his point and he wasn't afraid to voice them. "You almost passed up the UNC summer program for Pope," he reminded.
Stella's confidence faltered. "That's only one instance."
"When you and Kie tried out for the volleyball team last year, you messed up on purpose so she had a better chance of making it."
"No I didn't," she lied. Her arms crossed over her chest. She didn't think he remembered that. It didn't matter anyway. They both made the team.
"Yes, you did." He matched her stance. "You also turned down Pope's scholarship so he'd have less competition for it."
Stella's mouth fell open in shock. "That's not true! I turned it down because I had other scholarship offers, not for Pope! And I told you that in confidence!" She exclaimed. Nobody else knew that, especially not Pope. If Pope found out that she was almost a finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship but turned it down because she knew other people would benefit from it, he would be devastated. He would think she pitied him or had no faith in him. In reality, he became a finalist all on his own. She couldn't ruin that for him. JJ swore he'd never tell anyone. "You promised to never speak of it!"
JJ stared at her, taking up moments and slowing them down to admire the conviction behind every word she spoke. He understood her struggle with accepting her identity. It was difficult for him to accept that she was a Pogue and a Kook, so he could only imagine how hard it was for her. After all, they spent most of their youth villainizing the Kooks. Before she could say anything else, he spoke again. "Stella, we don't care that you're a Kook. We care about you. You don't need to feel bad about anything. You deserve it. You earned it. We all think so."
For someone who relied heavily on the approval of others, Stella never knew what to say when someone validated her feelings. Sometimes it felt like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. It was nice to have someone help carry the load.
Acceptance and reassurance warmed her insides and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.
"You called me Sunny."
Confused by the sudden change in topic, JJ tilted his head. He just tried to tell her how loved she was and she chose to focus on a nickname? "What?"
"You've never called me Sunny before."
He shrugged. "Sunny, Sunbaby, Stargirl, love of my life... They all mean the same thing."
The corners of her lips curled. "That you're irrevocably in love with me?"
"No." JJ chuckled and shook his head. "That I possess a killer amount of charm."
Stella playfully rolled her eyes. She didn't know how JJ did it, but she could always rely on him to cheer her up. He had a special talent of talking sense into her. He was her biggest supporter, her closest confidant, and the only person to know exactly what she was thinking.
He was right. She was a Kook and that was okay. It didn't change who she was as a person. She was still Stella and her friends were still her family. They still wished her the best. She didn't need to feel bad about that.
"Come on," JJ urged, sliding the cutting board of oranges in her direction. "Let's make a drink for John B and bring it over. We can interrogate him about why he's been acting all weird and shit. It'll be fun."
RAE SPEAKS!
hello everyone, it's been a while since the last update. if you read my announcements, then you know life is rough sometimes. thanks for your patience and kind words, it really means a lot. love you! hugs and forehead kisses!
stella after talking to jj and dr. wolff about her identity crisis:
also I don't know if any of you are into formula one but dr. danny wolff definitely is (if you know you know!)