“In a way,” I say, trying to hide my relief.
Garrick looks away. “But you didn’t think about what that would mean for me, did you? You didn’t stop to think how Rowan might decide to take that out on me when we return. My life might have seemed pitiful to you before, but it’s nothing compared to what it will be like when we get back. Rowan will make sure of that.”
No, I hadn’t stopped to consider that. Just like I hadn’t considered the consequences of another decision I’d made concerning him several years ago. Both had been impulsive choices.…
I don’t know what to say, so I sit and watch the woman with the glasses as she picks up the receiver of a large beige-colored phone.
“You always do what you want for your own benefit,” he says, “and don’t think about what that would mean for anyone else.”
That shameful feeling eats at me again. Maybe he really does know.
I don’t get a chance to consider asking because the woman with the glasses waves at us. “One of you can go into Mr. Drol’s office now.” She points to the door we’re supposed to enter.
I rise from my chair. Garrick sinks farther into his seat.
“Stay,” I say to him, making very certain that he can tell it’s an order, not a request.
I open the door, expecting to find another feeble human whom I have to appease, but my jaw pops open when I see who is sitting behind the desk in the counselor’s room. “So, honey, how was your first day of school?” he asks.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I quickly shut the door behind me.
“I thought you’d be happier to see your new guidance counselor,” Dax says. He’s wearing a light yellow sweater with brown patches on the elbows and sucking on the end of a …
“Is that a pipe?”
He nods. “Not lit, of course. No smoking allowed on campus. I thought it made me look older. What do you think?”
“I think you’re addled. What are you doing here? What if this Mr. Drol comes back?”
“I am Mr. Drol,” he says, raising his eyebrows and biting the end of his pipe. “I am too old to pose as a student like you and Garrick, but I didn’t want to dump you here all on your own, so Simon got me a job instead. His powers of persuasion were quite effective on the administration.”
I nod.
“But the part I didn’t tell him is that this arrangement will give us better opportunities to talk in private. I think I might be recommending twice-weekly counseling sessions for you.” He smiles around the stem of his pipe. “You’re looking quite emotionally disturbed.”
“I feel emotionally disturbed,” I say, sinking into the seat across the desk from him. “You were right; this place is torturous.”
“So what’s this about you picking fights? Do I need to suspend you?”
“Funny,” I say. “But I didn’t do anything. It was some hotheaded kid. Just came out of nowhere and tried to pick a fight.”
“Unprovoked?”
“Yes, but it must have had something to do with Daphne. I saw her with him on Saturday.”
“Aha.”
“She tried to get in the middle of the fight, you know?”
“Nice!” He taps his pipe on his desk. “I told you I liked this girl.”
“She definitely doesn’t like me. She accused me of stalking her!”
“But you are stalking her, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, but she’s not supposed to know that.” I throw my hands up. “This girl makes no sense. First, she calls me a perv and a creep, but then she tries to stop her friend from beating me up? And two seconds later, she’s calling me a stalker. How does that make any sense? And I don’t think being mean to her is working at all.”
“Wait, why are you trying to be mean to her?”
“Because I’m trying to get her to like me, as you said I should. This Web site said that girls like guys who are mean to them, so—”
“What? Haden, I thought I told you not to ask the Internet for dating advice!”
“You forget that I don’t even know what dating is!”
“Oh no, no, no, no, no,” Dax says, rocking back in his chair. “How mean were you?”
“I implied her virginity in front of our entire humanities class,” I say sheepishly.
“Oh harpies, we’re going to have to do some major damage control now.”
“I am all for suggestions.”
Dax chews on the end of his pipe for a moment and I can barely resist the urge to rip it away from him.
“That’s not helping,” I say.
“Oh, hmm. You don’t know something she’s really interested in, do you? Something you could get involved in to show a common interest?”