We stop in front of an office labeledschool counselorat the very end of the hall.
Ms. Hemlock puts her hand on my shoulder and smiles. “There’s no need to be nervous. Ms. Adams is just going to talk to you. After that, you’ll be free to continue on with your day.”
She opens the door, and a young woman with shoulder-length dark hair wearing a navy suit pops up from her desk.
“Ms. Hemlock. You’re right on time.” The woman walks over to me. “And you must be Rumor,” she says in a tone you’d use with a toddler. “I’m Ms. Adams. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“I’ll let you two get acquainted.” Ms. Hemlock leaves, and I’m suddenly wishing I were meeting withherinstead of Ms. Adams. As much as I can’t stand Ms. Hemlock, at least she didn’t talk to me like I’m a child.
“Would you like to have a seat?” Ms. Adams says in a high-pitched, baby-talk tone.
“I’d rather stand,” I say, dropping my backpack on the floor.
“You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?” She smiles and claps her hands, reminding me of a teacher I had in preschool. “Let’s get started. Please, have a seat.”
I reluctantly sit in the chair across from her desk. It’s one of those butterfly chairs that you sink into while your legs are pushed together. It has a furry white cover that Ms. Adams probably assumes is what teenagers think is cool. I don’t. I hateit. It’s making my legs itch. But the only other option is a red corduroy bean bag chair, which would pretty much put me at floor level, so I couldn’t even see Ms. Adams at her desk.
“So,” she says, getting a pen out. The pen is pink with a fluffy pom-pom at the top. Is this lady for real? Why would they hire her? The school is so serious, and she’s like a living cartoon. “Why do you think you’re here today, Rumor?”
“Well,” I say, taking a long, deep breath and letting it out. “My mom is dead, my dad is missing, I punched a girl, and my cousin might be a murderer.”
Her jaw drops, her pen stilled on her pink and white notepad.
I yawn. “Could be any one of those things. But you tell me. Why am I here?”
Chapter 16
Ms. Adams clears her throat. “What do you mean your cousin is a murderer?”
I laugh. “Not an actual murderer. I mean, he hasn’t been charged or anything, but Ihaveheard rumors. I’m sure you heard them too. About Andrea?”
She nods. “Such a shame. I tell children all the time about the dangers of alcohol, and this is why. Accidents happen.”
“So you don’t believe the rumors. That Braden killed her.”
She sits up straighter. “Of course not. And you shouldn’t either. Braden is a wonderful boy. A good student. A star athlete. It’s pure jealousy that drove people to spread rumors that he was somehow involved.”
“Jealousy?”
“Of course. Everyone wants to be Braden, but since they can’t, they resort to trying to ruin his reputation. It’s sickening, and the school won’t tolerate it. Anyone who tries to spread that rumor again will be punished.” She gives me a look of warning.
“Hey.” I toss my hands up. “I was just saying what I heard.”
“Let’s get back to the question of why you’re here.” She drops the pen and folds her hands, resting them on the desk. “Some of the reasons you mentioned are true. You took physical action against another student last Friday at school.”
“I punched her. It’s okay, you can say it.”
“If I were to take a guess, I’d say that was a result of the other issue you mentioned. Your mother’s death.”
“And if I were to take a guess,” I say, leaning toward her. “I’d say it’s a result of Kristen being a rude, snobby bitch who thinks she can say and do whatever she wants because her dad’s the principal.”
Ms. Adams picks up her pen and scribbles something down.
“Did I get it right?” I ask. “Was that the right answer?”
“There are no right or wrong answers in counseling, Ms. Halliway.”
She finally stopped using that baby-talk tone, but her voice is still annoyingly high.
