“Youcan’ttrustpeoplewearing masks? That’s a given!” Sarah laughs from across my desk. She keeps refusing to watch The Princess Bride for two reasons: it’soldandoverrated.It brings me physical pain to hear her utter these words, and for the last few weeks all of the productivity in our sessions has been focused on this debate.
“It’s more than that! It’s a deeper life lesson, the mask is also metaphorical!” I throw my arms up in the air. “Your life will change forever if you will just watch it!”
“You know what else can change your life? Sharknado . . . that’s time you never get back.” She blows a bubble with her gum, ignoring the disgust on my face for the comparison.
I groan in defeat. “Whatever, your loss. Now, let’s focus on something else for the last”—I check my watch—“fifteenminutes before I have to leave.”
“Are you really going to leave?” she whispers, looking down at her hands. She’s painted her nails each a different shade of green, off-setting the bright yellow cardigan and yellow high tops she’s wearing. “You just got here.” Her voice is sad and it breaks my heart.
I’ve grown so fond of Sarah and her quirky, smarty-pants attitude.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.” I force a smile at her hoping it hides the conflict I’m wrestling with. “Plus, I might run into you there eventually!”
“Eventually.” She rolls her eyes as she blows another bubble. It pops, leaving a piece on her nose. She wipes it off and sprawls back onto the couch.
The contrast of Sarah now and Sarah a few months ago is subtle to others, but her comfort level around me has completely changed. She lounges around like she’s in her own living room and I’m her buddy, not her guidance counselor who could actually send her to detention. Which I would never do, but it’s fun to think of the authority I have at my disposal.
“Ethan and Birdie are going to be homecoming royalty and it makes me sick.” She throws her arms over her face.
I was hoping to discuss her decision to stay at Glendale another year rather than graduate early, to make sure she was content with that decision, but alas, I am not so lucky. Instead, I’m dealing with, yet another, lovesick, child crisis.
She yammers on about how she hopes Bridie’s homecoming dress will rip, and that Ethan will give her mono. How he winked at her in the hall yesterday, then proceeded to loop his arm over Birdie’s shoulders.
Oof.
Ethan Blake is definitely one I would use my detention authority on.
“Who am I going to talk to about these things? You’re the only one who understands!” she whines behind her arms, still laying across the couch with a leg kicked up on the back.
“Again, I don’t know what’s going to happen.” I doodle a pair of high-top shoes under a cute homecoming dress. The thought of Birdie stepping on her own dress crosses my mind and I stifle a laugh, retracing the laces of the shoes I drew.
“Word on the street is Mr. B’s gonna get canned anyway,” she says, arms still covering her face.
“That’s not going to happen,” I say, sternly. How did she get this information? Last I checked the only people who know about the board meeting are the faculty and Steven.
I scribble everyone’s name, scratching off suspects as she goes back to her love triangle. She continues on about Birdie and her“fake platinum blonde hair”and how she’s pretty confident she wears a corset. Her jealousy comes out more snippy the longer she talks, like a slow leak before the pipe finally gives way and bursts with unnecessary insults. My ability to maintain a straight face as she becomes more animated with each remark falters more and more.
Even though my sessions with students are confidential and they have the freedom to speak as they wish, I do have to remind them that I am still faculty. Although, this has never stopped them from unleashing gossip and rumor theories to me. I’ve just had to reel them in a tad. But with this next month potentially being my last one at Glendale, my limits within sessions have become a little more lenient than the beginning of term.
Sarah needs to let it out, so I let her.
A knock on the other side of my door interrupts Sarah’s theory on Birdie paying Ethan to date her, thank the Lord. She remains kicked up on the couch as reaches overhead for the doorknob and twists it, letting the door swing open. Benny walks in.
“You about ready to go?” he asks me but looks down at Sarah, giggling at the sight.
“Sup, Mr. B,” she looks up at him before kicking her feet and throwing herself up to a seated position. She picks up her backpack and swings it over her shoulder then points a finger gun at me. “Don’t suck tomorrow.”
Pointing a finger gun right back. “I’ll try not to.”
She fist bumps Benny as she leaves my office, waving at us both through my office window.
“Amazing.” Benny chuckles watching her skip to her locker.
“What is?” I start to pick up my desk and pack it away.
“You.” He leans over my desk and kisses me on the cheek. “And what you do.” He kisses the other cheek. “She’s just a new person since meeting with you.” A final kiss on my forehead, his lips soft against my skin as he pulls away slowly, his eyes penetrating my soul as he stands up straight.
“She’s just growing up,” I say, staring at his lips, resisting the urge to kiss him like a maniac in the middle of my office.
