Page 7 of The Catcher
The smell? Well, that was the same. It never changed.
Noah paused briefly at a drinking fountain, his reflection flickering in the pane of glass nearby as he ran his fingers through his unruly waves, attempting to tame them. He straightened his shirt before hurrying down a maze of hallways toward the guidance counselor’s office.
Upon arriving, he peered through the dividing glass window and spotted Mia seated in front of the desk. Without hesitation, he closed his eyes, collecting himself, before knocking and entering.
Inside, Mr. Anderson rose from his seat, extending a hand in a welcoming gesture. He had an average appearance, with neatly trimmed hair and a friendly demeanor that put Noah at ease.
Noah apologized immediately, a note of contrition in his voice. “I am so sorry. Completely slipped my mind.”
Mia narrowed her eyes at him, her expressionbetraying a hint of exasperation, but she remained silent as Mr. Anderson offered a reassuring smile.
“Not a problem,” Mr. Anderson replied. “I expect your work with State pulls you away at unexpected times.”
“More than you know,” Noah acknowledged, returning the handshake before sitting beside Mia.
“Well, let’s get down to it, shall we?” Mr. Anderson smiled, settling back into his chair and tapping on his keyboard.
Noah glanced at Mia, noting her disinterest in making eye contact. He knew he would hear about his tardiness later, but for now, he focused on the meeting, eager to address any concerns.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, as Noah moved to exit the room, Mr. Anderson’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Mr. Sutherland, I’d like a moment alone, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” Noah turned to Mia. “I’ll meet you outside.”
As the door closed, Noah could already sense the conversation’s direction.
“I thought it was best to have this chat outside of prying ears. Kids today are so impressionable, you know?” Mr. Anderson began, perching on the edge of his desk with a look of concern.
Noah gave a nod, bracing himself for what was to follow.
“I’m not one to pry, but I couldn’t help but notice... the smell of alcohol on you,” Mr. Anderson continued.
For a split second, Noah entertained the idea of walking out, of weaving another lie to deflect the truth. But something in him, perhaps a fleeting sense of honesty, urged him to come clean, at least partly.
“Oh, yeah, that,” Noah replied with a casual shrug, motioning over his shoulder. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. That’s part of the reason why I’m late. You see, a good friend of mine had his stag last night. There was a party over in Saranac Lake. One thing led to another, and I found myself on the receiving end of a mixed drink that was meant for my friend. Anyway, it was a real mess. Vomit. The works. It didn’t help that I was the designated driver for the evening. Everyone had to take a cab. They weren’t happy. By the time I got in, it was late. I didn’t get a chance to shower. I’m sorry.”
Mr. Anderson nodded understandingly. “So you weren’t?—?”
“Drinking this morning? God, no. I learned my lesson from my father. You go down that road and... well, let’s say it doesn’t end well,” Noah interjected.
Anderson nodded again. “You’d be right there. But tell that to the kids of today. More and more are falling off the edge of a cliff every day. I just thought with all the losses you’ve been through...”
“Losses?” Noah interrupted, his heart sinking as he realized where this conversation was headed.
“Before you arrived, Mia told me about her uncle and mother passing,” Mr. Anderson explained gently. “And your girlfriend, recently.”
Noah felt a wave of awkwardness wash over him, hisdefenses crumbling under Mr. Anderson’s scrutiny. The counselor continued, “I mean, I get it. Grief has a way of blotting out all sensibility. So I would understand, but...” Mr. Anderson hesitated, sucking air between his teeth. “Kids. Not so much. They tend to mirror our behavior.”
“Well, you don’t have anything to worry about. And I’m not currently on duty. But thank you for your concern,” Noah replied, offering a strained smile before shaking his hand and exiting the room.
As he stepped into the corridor, Noah couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed inside. Mia locked eyes with him and then walked off without saying a word. The lying was getting worse, and with each passing day, it weighed heavily on his conscience.
2
It was organized chaos — a complete dichotomy.
Callie slowed the cruiser at the South Meadow Trailhead. It was buzzing with the presence of various agencies. New York State Forest Rangers from the Department of Environmental Conservation (DEC), volunteers from search and rescue, and state troopers milled about, their vehicles forming a makeshift perimeter around the area.
