“Splinters?” she asks, arms crossed over her chest, a jut to her hip, and if I looked down I’m pretty sure I would see her toe tapping.
I grip the back of my neck and sheepishly smile. “I thought it would be a good excuse?” I say in question form, trying to pass it off as cute. From the stern set in her brow, I’m going to assume she does not find me endearing at all.
Not to worry, just one more hurdle to have to jump over.
“Uh, should we get started?”
“He probably thinks I’m some prima donna who doesn’t like to get her hands dirty.”
Or we can continue to talk about this . . .
“He doesn’t think that. He offered you gloves. He likes you.” I try to cheer her up but the scowl continues.
Yikes.
“He doesn’t like me.” She walks over to the plans and starts looking them over. “That last thing I need is for Mr. Buster, the head of the special activities department for the ENTIRE district, to hate me. He has some serious in with the principal at my school. I’m only temporary and I need . . .” She trails off and takes a deep breath. “Forget it. Let’s get to work.” She thumbs through the designs and pulls out the Christmas tree that’s going to be rather interesting to build. “Let’s get going. The quicker we can build these, the better. Fetch the wood. I’ll grab a pencil to start tracing.”
Without another word, she starts digging in my toolbox, looking for a pencil. I stay still, watching how angry she is, how frustrated she is. Why did she trail off? She needs what? Her job? Does this have to do with her father? I wish she would talk to me.
“Amelia,” I say softly as I walk up next to her. “He doesn’t hate you.”
“We’re not talking about this anymore. Let’s just get to work.”
She was never like this before, so harsh, so . . . uptight.
When I knew her, she was free-spirited, wild almost, and hadn’t cared what people thought of her. She broke the rules just to enjoy life. She’s different now, calculated, and rough around the edges. Did I do this to her? Did I destroy her spirit?
If I did, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. And if I’m the one responsible, I’m going to be the one responsible for bringing her spirit back.
Chapter Seven
AMELIA
“I think I want to have sex.”
I hold back the cringe that threatens to pass over my features. This is the third “I want to have sex” conversation I’ve had with one of my students since I arrived, and I’ve been here for a week and a half. I know I’m a school counselor, and I’ve been trained for situations like this, but it never ceases to disturb me how young kids want to get started so early on being adults.
News flash, kids: hold off. You have all the time in the world to adult, enjoy being a kid for as long as you can because before you know it, you’re going to be living next to your ex-boyfriend who destroyed your heart, trying to keep a long-distance relationship fresh over FaceTime, and helping your deteriorating father fade comfortably.
Stay young for as long as you can.
Keeping a straight face and my pen poised at my notepad, I ask, “And why do you think that, Carissa?”
Sitting awkwardly, she twists her hands together on her lap and carefully looks at me. “Is this going to get back to my parents?”
“Only if your life is being threatened. Everything else is confidential between us.”
She nods and bites on her lip. “I think I’m in love.”
“Okay,” I say gently. “That’s wonderful. Love is such a powerful feeling to have for another person. It can be very consuming, can’t it?”
Carissa, my student, shyly nods. “Very consuming.”
“Who’s the lucky one to hold your heart?” I tread carefully with my words because in an age where love is love, I don’t want to assume any sexual orientation of my students.
“Danny Baxter.”
I make a mental note to look him up later as I casually write down his name. I want to be as familiar with my students as possible.
“Is he nice to you?”
“He is.” She nods. “He buys me lunch every day, and we eat together at a table in the cafeteria. We like to talk about Harry Potter and The Legend of Zelda. We’re both on the same level, and when I get stuck, he always helps me. He doesn’t ever move forward unless I’m on the same level as him.”
Oh God, my heart. Danny Baxter sounds like a total sweetheart. High school love, it’s so easy.
“Wow, that’s really sweet of him. You’re a lucky girl.”
“I am.” Looking at her hands, she twines them together, clearly nervous about the conversation we’re having.
“I have a little concern though. You said you think you’re in love with him. Why do you think you’re in love?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, I like him a lot. I think about him all the time and when we kiss, I get really excited.”
Hormones be raging in this one.
“Have you told him how you feel?”
“What?” Her eyes widen, pure fear in her face as it goes white. “No way. Why would I do that?”
Carissa, you’re so not ready for sex. No high schooler is for that matter.
I don’t want to sound condescending or like I’m her parent, so I choose my words wisely. “I was in love once with a boy who consumed my every thought.” Why did I say in love once? I’m in love now. I shake the mistake and continue. “He was everything to me. We talked about Nirchi’s pizza, and played cards ”—and fucked like bunnies, but I leave that out—“and spent every spare hour we had with each other.”
“That’s like Danny and me.”
“I figured.” I wink. “But do you know what I feel is different between our two relationships?”
“What?” She’s sitting on the edge of her seat now, listening intently.
I’ve captured her; I have her full attention, and that’s something to be proud of when dealing with kids this age. “When I was with him, all I wanted to do was tell him how much I loved him.”
“Really?”
I nod. “All the time. It was something I couldn’t stop myself from saying. From what you’re telling me, I can see you’re not quite ready to start sharing your feelings.”
“Yeah, that’s too scary.” She scrunches her nose and shakes her head. See? She’s not ready for sex.
“Totally understandable, but I have to tell you, Carissa, if you think that’s scary, having sex for the first time is an entirely different world of scary.” She shrinks in her chair. “I want you to have the best experience when that time comes, and I want it to be with a man like the one I used to love, someone who you can’t help but express your feelings toward. Does that make sense?”
“It does. I have to truly, really, completely be in love with Danny before we have sex.”
“Exactly.” Oh please, let this conversation have some influence on her decision.
“But I still want to make out with him,” she adds, looking shy from her confession.
I pat my desk as I smile at her. “Make out all you want, but before you take the next step, be absolutely sure that you love him, okay?”
She nods and stands from her chair. “Thank you, Miss Santos.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie. If you want to have this conversation again before you decide to move forward with Danny, please know my door is always open.”