Page 35 of Yearning Difficulties

‘He yearns like a poet. It’s heartbreaking.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Killian sniffed. ‘Hurts when you can’t be with the one you want. Yearning is the natural side effect.’

I nudged him gently. ‘You’re very morose all of a sudden. You’re barely looking at me.’

‘I’m autistic, Red. Uncomfortable with eye contact. Worried you might actually see my soul.’

I stared at him. ‘Kill, what—’

‘Sorry to interrupt!’

We jumped in surprise, and turned to see the school counsellor, Dr Casey, standing in the common room doorway. She was a frazzled woman who always had a pencil in her slightly unkempt hair. She wore colourful overalls and shoes with rainbow-coloured laces.

‘Am I in trouble?’ Killian asked dryly.

‘For once, I’m not here for you, Killian,’ she chirped. ‘Miss Blass, can you come to my office? I’ve just heard your broadcast. I’d love if you and I could have a little chat.’

Thirteen

Shameless

Today’s Track: ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ by Nirvana

I stepped into Dr Casey’s office for the first time and frowned at the small laminated sign on the wall. It simply read ‘In this office, there is no such thing as “I don’t know”’.

It made me feel uneasy.

‘Do sit down,’ Dr Casey instructed, smiling widely.

I obeyed. We sat across from one another in two blue chairs, not unlike the kind you would find in a doctor’s waiting room.

‘I heard you on the radio just now,’ Dr Casey finally said. ‘And thought I should check in with you.’

I must have really sounded unhinged. How nice it had felt to shake off the shackles of apathy for a few seconds.

‘I sometimes overshare a bit,’ I said, trying to downplay it.

‘Yes. Some of your teachers also tell me you’re a little . . .’

I tensed, waiting. I was used to unsolicited feedback. ‘I’m . . . ?’

‘Somewhat of a loner.’

Not by choice, I thought. ‘My best friend doesn’t go here any more.’

‘Ah. Maxine. Yes. But you haven’t found a new group?’

I felt the rumblings of a tension headache. ‘Am I not doing well in lessons?’

‘You know you’re doing very well, Zella. You’re indefatigably good at your schoolwork and you’re constantly polite and a pleasure to teach. You’ve progressed so much in the past few years, academically. Your extra-curriculars are exemplary. Your volunteer work was talked about by almost every faculty member I spoke to. And I see you’ve submitted your name and some work to Dr Bergery for her writing seminar?’

‘Yes.’

‘All of that is perfect. You’re a dream student. I’m just concerned about burnout. As well as your social skills.’

I stared. ‘Ouch.’

‘You’re dating Killian Bergery? Do I have that right?’