“I will when our session is done.”
“I have nothing else to say. I’ve already told you everything.”
“We just started talking.”
“Yeah? And I have nothing else to say. All I can think about is how much I’m missing in class and how long it’ll take me to catch up.”
She stands up. “Fine. Go along to class. We’ll move our sessions to after school. I’ll see you Wednesday at four.”
“Wait!” I jump up from the chair. “I can’t stay after school. Trystan drives me home. He’s not gonna wait around for me.”
“Then what would you propose?”
“That we stop doing this. I don’t need counseling. I was having a bad day Friday. Kristen pissed me off and I hit her. I don’t need counseling to figure out why I did it. And I promise, it won’t happen again.”
Ms. Adams comes over and hands me my phone. “Wednesday at four. See you then.”
“How am I supposed to get home?”
“Ask your uncle to pick you up. I’m sure Mr. Halliway would be more than happy to help you out.” She walks to the door and opens it. “Have a nice day.”
Fuming, I storm out of her office and run right into Principal Edwards.
“You’re in quite a hurry, Ms. Halliway.”
“I’m late to class,” I mutter, going around him.
“Ms. Halliway,” he calls after me.
I turn back. “Yes?”
“I just wanted you to know that Kristen’s nose is going to be fine. The doctor said she just needs to wait for the swelling to go down. Most of it already has. She’s feeling much better now.”
“Great.” I fake a smile. “Can I go now?”
“Of course.” He motions for me to continue down the hall. “Enjoy your day.”
When I walk into class, everyone stares at me. Kristen’s in the first row and gives me one of her fake sweet smiles as I go past her. I’m sure she loves that I’m stuck going to counseling because of her.
The teacher waits until I’m seated before continuing whatever he was saying. I try to catch up, but I’m completely lost. I only missed half the class, but it was enough for me to fall behind.
In my next class, the teacher hands out a pop quiz, and even though I studied for that class, I’m pretty sure I flunked the quiz.
“Hey, bestie,” Peyton says, coming up to my locker before lunch.
“Bestie?” I say with a laugh. “We just met.”
“How was your weekend?” she asks, twirling her hair around her finger.
“Boring. How about yours?”
“I had a date with a financier.”
“Awhat?” I ask, closing my locker.
“A financier. A man who manages large amounts of money,” she says, like she’s annoyed at having to explain the term.
“Another old guy?”
