by K M Frost
Leah was speechless.
I was not. “I mean, would it kill you to be honest once in a while? I know you’re tough and all, but would it kill you to open up?”
A voice in the back of my head urged me to calm down, but I ignored it. It felt good in a way to let all this out.
“Friends are supposed to be there for each other—they’re supposed to trust each other. But if you can’t do that, maybe you don’t really want a friend. Maybe you’re just looking for someone to push around. And I’m done being pushed around.”
Leah stared at me. She didn’t move, but I could see her mind working furiously behind her furrowed brow. Finally she spoke, though she was hesitant, uncertain.
“You . . . don’t want to be friends anymore?”
I sat back, stunned.
It wasn’t that I wanted to stop being her friend—after all, she was one of my only friends—I was just so frustrated with her attitude.
I was still trying to piece together a response when she suddenly stood and threw her bag onto her shoulder, leaving her lunch forgotten on the grass.
“Good luck at the Counselors today.”
And she stalked away.
I watched her for a few stunned heartbeats, and then I scrambled to my feet.
“Leah, wait!”
But she didn’t turn around or even pause. In fact, I think she moved faster.
I watched her disappear into the schoolhouse, and I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach.
I dropped back into the grass and tried to figure out what had just happened. Things had gotten out of hand, and I wasn’t even sure how it had happened.
But one thing was certain: I’d lost my friend.
Chapter 10
Mom sent me to the Counseling Center as soon as I got home, and I made the journey all alone for the first time. She was too busy to go with me, and she was sure I could handle it on my own.
The streets were busy with people heading every which way, but though I was surrounded by people, I felt entirely alone.
After Leah had left me in the schoolyard, I sat there for a long time, trying to grasp what had happened and how I could set things right.
I’d decided I would talk with Leah when I saw her in Practical Literature. I was sure she would’ve calmed down during her other classes.
Not really . . .
When I’d walked into my last class of the day I’d looked around for Leah, but she wasn’t there. I’d gone to my regular seat and waited for her to show up, running through apologies in my mind.
I watched the door anxiously, but she didn’t show up. Seconds before the chime marked the beginning of class Leah shuffled in, head bowed, and took a seat near the door.
She never looked my way.
I hoped to corner her after class, but almost in sync with the chime, she stood and slipped out of the room.
Before I could run after her, the other kids around me clogged the way and I was forced to flow with the crowds out into the hall. When I finally got free, Leah was nowhere to be seen.
I’d met Ellie at the door, and when she asked me where Leah was, I told her Leah had left early and we’d walk with her tomorrow. I didn’t have the heart to tell Ellie we might not be walking with Leah again.
Ellie was bummed about missing Leah, but she got over it okay, and the rest of our walk home had been the lightest part of my day.
I looked up as the Counseling Center filled my view. From the outside it looked like any other big building, but inside it was creepy, unnatural.
The walls and ceiling were painted a stark, blinding white. It was so bright and bland it was almost hard to look at. The floor was made of smooth, light-colored wood that seemed to reflect the bright walls, making it even brighter. Half the room was devoted to a sitting area, with plush white sofas where a wide assortment of patients sat, waiting for their turn to be led through the nearby white door for their sessions. The other half of the room was empty, except for a large wooden desk near the back wall, to the right of the only other door in the room.
Seated behind the desk was Gloria, my least favorite receptionist. Her blonde hair was fluffed up into a big, poofy arrangement, so extreme I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Her smock was bright green today, about the only color in this white place.
Gloria seemed surprised to see me alone, but she didn’t say anything other than “Please take a seat.”
I turned away from her bright smock and too-large smile and made my way to the comfortable sofas on the other side of the room.
I was glad there were less people waiting than usual. These people scared me, and I didn’t want to be the only normal one in the room. Usually I had Mom, and even Ellie sometimes, but today I had to settle for sitting on the last sofa, as far from the other patients as I could get.
But, despite my efforts to avoid the people around me, a boy who looked like he was about a year older than me, maybe two, made his way over and sat on the other end of my sofa.
I glanced over, though my instincts warned me not to (did I mention he was a hundred pounds heavier than me, most of it muscle?).
He was watching me in amusement. “What are you in for?” His voice was lowered dramatically, and anyone listening could easily hear.
“What do you mean?”
He chuckled. “What’s your crime?”
I hugged the arm of the sofa a little more tightly and wished the cushion was longer.
He bounced impatiently on the sofa. “Come on, kid. Spill.”
I didn’t reply, too scared to make a sound.
“Alright. I’m Billy. I’m here because I was accused of breaking the Loffits’s front window.”
“Did you?” I couldn’t help asking.
Billy grinned. “Five times. But they didn’t have any evidence.” He sounded proud they hadn’t been able to catch him in the act.
I strangled the arm of the sofa. “So, if they couldn’t prove it, why are you here?”
“They got me for some other things, but my favorite was the window stunt.”
I glanced around to see if anyone would save me from this self-satisfied teenage criminal. My chances did not look promising.
Billy shifted closer to me and I tensed. “So, what’re you in for?”
I watched him warily, but he wasn’t reaching for a knife, so I was probably safe to reply.
“Um, I cut school.”
Billy laughed boisterously, drawing several irritated frowns.
“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!” He whooped, then slapped me on the back for good measure.
He leaned closer, his hand still on my back, keeping me from bolting. “So, which counselor do you have?” He said counselor like it was a joke.
“Uh, Counselor Gerrit.” I tried to shrug his hand off but he just held my shoulder more tightly and refused to let go.
“Oh, Gerrit’s fun.” Billy gave me a jarring shake—I think it was supposed to be playful. Or maybe he was trying to dislocate my shoulder. “He’s always so interested in what you’re doing with your life.”
I frowned, and this time when I shook his hand off he let go. “You’ve met with Counselor Gerrit?”
He laughed. “Kid, I’ve met with all of ‘em. Though, the lady ones are my favorite, if you know what I mean.” He winked and my face twisted.
I finally turned to face him in exasperation. “How long have you been coming here?”
Billy shrugged and leaned back on the sofa. “Dunno. Two, maybe three years.”
“Three years? How much longer do you have left?”
Billy grinned lazily at me, his blue eyes bright. “Oh, your time is never done here.”
I felt a chill at his words and glanced at Gloria. She was busy sifting through papers on her desk and wasn’t paying any attention to us.
I turned back to study Billy and tried to decide how reliable his info was.
Okay, not very good. But still . . .
I lowered my voice to barely
above a whisper. “You mean they never finish your sessions? They just make you keep coming back?”
Billy widened his eyes dramatically and leaned in close. “How should I know? I never give them the chance to kick me out!” He laughed loudly and I recoiled. “Why would I want to get out of counseling? I have way too much fun here. Besides, if I didn’t have these sessions to go to, my ma would make me do chores.”
He continued to laugh, and people nearby tossed us annoyed looks again. I could almost hear what they were thinking: They’re the type of boys who need counseling.
I stood to find another sofa—away from Billy and his unstable attitude—but then he said something that caught my attention as well as my curiosity.
“Have fun with your artsy counselor.”
I told myself not to let him bother me—he was just razzing me—but something in his tone made me pause and frown.
“No, Counselor Gerrit is a Conceptor. He told me in our last session. I remember because I’m a Conceptor, too.”
Billy thought about that, then shrugged carelessly. “Maybe that was someone else . . . Oh yeah! Gerrit was the only child, like me.” He chuckled. “Oh, we had some good conversations about that!”
My frown deepened. “No, Counselor Gerrit isn’t an only child. He has sisters.” I clearly remembered my first session, when we’d talked about our families. He’d told me about his sisters when I’d mentioned Ellie.
Billy stared at me, like he thought I might be a bit crazy.
He thought I was crazy?
Billy shook his head. “No pal, you must be thinking of someone else. I’m sure Gerrit was the only child.”
I shook my head too. “I’ve never talked to anyone else. I’ve only met with Counselor Gerrit. You must be confused.”
Billy laughed, but the sound was darker than before. “You sure you want to say that?”
I swallowed, very uneasy. I’d heard that tone before—every time Ethan and his cronies threatened me.
Luckily, Gloria called out my name before I could get pulverized, and I hurried to her desk, eager to get away from Billy, who laughed loudly at my retreat, and then fell off the sofa.
I was relieved when an orange-smocked attendant led me through the white door at the back of the room, taking me away from Billy’s rowdy laughter.
The lady brought me to one of the closed doors lining the corridor, on the wall opposite the rooms I’d been in before. She opened the door and gestured me inside.
I stepped inside and barely noticed when the door closed behind me—I was too busy staring at the room before me.
Each of the four walls was a different color—all of them painfully bright—as were the floor and ceiling. The tree in the corner looked like a five-year-old had made it by sticking different colored scraps of paper to long, multi-colored sticks. A stained-glass bench sat against one wall, adding even more color to the already dizzying room, and a simple chair sat opposite it, made of some clear material that caught and reflected the colors in the room.
I was so busy gawking at the room I didn’t notice when the door opened behind me.
“Jonas.”
I turned to see Counselor Gerrit looking at me with surprise and a hint of fear.
Before I could ask what this room was used for (if not driving people insane) he grabbed my shoulder in a viselike grip and dragged me out into the hall, closing the door with a snap.
He pushed me up against the now-closed door, still squeezing my shoulder too tightly. “What do you think you’re doing, wandering around like that?”
I winced, startled by his intensity. “I wasn’t wandering. That’s where the lady put me.”
A shadow passed over Counselor Gerrit’s face and his normally warm brown eyes turned dark. “What color smock was she wearing?”
He gave my shoulder a harsh shake when I didn’t answer.
I tried to remember. “Uh . . . Orange?” I wasn’t sure at first, but when I thought about it, I knew I was right. It had definitely been an orange smock.
Counselor Gerrit dragged me by the shoulder to the next door down the hall and pushed me inside.
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
He shut the door firmly behind him.
I rubbed my throbbing shoulder and looked at the new room. This one was much more like I was used to—white walls, simple but tasteful decorations, an inviting sofa against one wall.
I looked at the closed door and then sank cautiously onto the sofa, but I couldn’t relax.
When the door opened, I surged to my feet and forced myself to drop my hand from my aching shoulder.
Counselor Gerrit stepped into the room and closed the door calmly. He was a large man, late thirties, and even though there was something about him that made me nervous, he was usually entirely composed.
He smiled apologetically at me, his face as calm and casual as ever. “Sorry about the mix up, Jonas.”
He snagged the simple chair from the other side of the small room and positioned it in front of the sofa. He waved for me to sit, but I hesitated.
“Sir?”
He looked up from his clipboard to give me his full attention, and I tried not to squirm.
“What . . . That room, what is it for?”
Counselor Gerrit smiled easily and sat back in his chair. “Oh, it’s just a room we use on special occasions.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
My stomach knotted anxiously, but I had to ask. “What happened to the woman who took me there?”
The counselor’s smile became stiff, though he managed to keep it in place. “She’s been sent home.”
“What do you mean?”
He gestured for me to take a seat, and after a short hesitation, I did.
Counselor Gerrit studied me for a second before leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. “She was fired.”
I blinked. “Fired? But, why?”
“We take our work here very seriously, and we can’t afford any mistakes.”
“But if she was fired, she’s going to have a hard time finding work again.”
I knew when a person was fired from their job it was recorded and would forever be linked with them. Though I didn’t know a lot about jobs and records, I did know there were people who refused to hire someone who’d been fired from a previous job. And even places without that policy would only hire them if there was absolutely no one else for the job.
Counselor Gerrit shrugged like that didn’t matter. “We can’t tolerate mistakes.”
“It wasn’t really a big deal.” I felt oddly guilty. After all, she’d been escorting me when she made the mistake. I felt responsible in a way. “So she took me to the wrong room—it doesn’t matter. There wasn’t anyone in there. I didn’t hear anything.”
Counselor Gerrit raised an eyebrow, but I wasn’t sure if it was in amusement or threat. “What did you expect to hear, Jonas?”
“Nothing. I just meant it wasn’t a big deal.”
“I’ll decide what’s a big deal and what isn’t.” There was real steel in his voice, and I nodded, lowering my gaze.
We were silent for a few breaths, and then he spoke again. “So, how was school today, Jonas?”
I glanced at him and saw his old carefree smile, though now that I looked I could see the darkness in the corners of his eyes, like he was barely holding back anger or frustration. I’d never noticed it before, but I realized it’d always been there—I just hadn’t recognized what it was.
I didn’t dare cross him—my shoulder still ached where he’d grabbed me—so I talked about school (I left out Leah completely). Then we talked about the upcoming summer vacation. It still seemed like a lifetime away, but it gave us something to talk about, so I didn’t resist.
I was able to keep the discussion away from serious things, like Leah or the Reality Dreams, but Billy’s words weighed heavily on my mind.
Artsy. Only child.
I was sure I couldn’t trust the things he
’d said, but they wouldn’t leave my mind. How could Billy’s description of Counselor Gerrit be so far from mine? Complete opposites, really.
As I watched the counselor fake a grin and a laugh, I wondered how many other things he’d faked—and why.
Chapter 11
When I finally got out of the unnerving counseling session, I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.
Then I stepped outside.
The building across the street was on fire, and there were people running everywhere—several of them were screaming.
I stood on the steps of the Counseling Center and just stared.
I’d seen a house on fire before, but this uncontrolled panic and terror was completely new. In fact, I’d never seen fear like this. I wondered with a chill why everyone was so frantic.
I could see a few people running toward the flames with buckets of water, but even I knew they wouldn’t be able to put the fire out without more help. Acting on impulse, I ran to the nearest well and grabbed a scuffed wooden bucket from the ground and filled it quickly.
It was awkward, running with a full bucket, but I couldn’t walk toward the flames. So, even though the bucket slapped against my legs and sloshed water down my front, I ran.
I got as close to the heat as I could stand, and then tossed the water as far as I could. It landed with a hiss amidst the flames, but other than briefly parting the fire, it didn’t make any difference.
I turned and ran back to the well. I realized distantly that a few other people had joined the dousing effort, though many were still running and screaming aimlessly.
My body moved mechanically between the well and the relentless flames while my mind spun. What had happened here?
I didn’t know a lot about fire, and I’d never fought one before, but something inside me said this wasn’t an accident.
I’d just tossed my umpteenth bucket of water on the burning building when a shrill scream tore above all the other chaos and drew everyone’s attention.
I looked reflexively toward the sound.