Page 22 of I Would Stay Forever
I nervously foldedthe small pink piece of paper in my hand into an origami frog as I sat in the reception area of the guidance office. It had only been four days since I was here to pick up my schedule and I’d already been called out of class to come back down, which didn’t feel like a good sign. The receptionist smiled kindly at me when I came in, but I was sure it was part of her job to be nice to everyone so that we didn’t get scared off before we could even meet the counselors.
I left the little paper frog—crafted from the paper that summoned me down here—on my knee for a second and stared at it. I did it so automatically, I didn't even think about it nowadays. When I got nervous, my hands needed something to do, and I always ended up doing origami. Before, I would bring it home and show my dad, who had been the one to teach me. Now, I had no one to show, so I wanted nothing to do with the tiny frog I might've once been proud of.
The door on the far side of the receptionist’s office opened and a blonde woman stepped out. I was sure she could only be ten years older than me, but she was wearing a pantsuit and had her hair pulled into a slicked back ponytail like she was trying to make herself seem older. It was clear at first glance that she wasnew here. I was suddenly very grateful I hadn’t come here to see if I could change my schedule to get out of History of Warfare because she definitely had the vibe of someone who would try to psychoanalyze me and insist on me coming in every week to discuss the trauma of my parents’ divorce.
“Lavender,” she said, her voice oddly warm. I was a little surprised by being called by my first name since most teachers called us by our last names. I assumed it was because she was trying to build a friendly rapport, but it felt disingenuous and put me on edge. Maybe this meeting actually was about my parents’ divorce somehow. I hadn’t told anyone about it, aside from the tidbits I’d given Zoey and that didn’t even scratch the surface of everything that happened or warranted a meeting with the counsellor. “Why don’t you come in?”
She gestured toward her office. I would have loved to say no, but I knew it wasn’t an actual question. It was an order to come in, disguised as something sweeter. I stood up and took two steps before I realized that stupid origami frog was still in my hand, and I really did not want to bring that mojo into this meeting. I paused in my move toward the office to drop the frog onto the high wall of the receptionist’s desk with a small smile. She smiled back, which seemed like a good sign, although I wasn't positive whether she was just doing that to seem nice and hide the fact that she was immediately going to throw the frog away. I guess I couldn't blame her if she did; it might be just as well for me.
I walked through the door of the office, which displayed the name Emma Winfield, Guidance Counselor. The office was pretty small. The desk took up most of it, running along the right side of the room until it hit a file cabinet shoved in the corner. The left side had more file cabinets that blocked some of the light coming in from the window on the back wall, and a couple of folding chairs. I sat in the one closer to the door. She closedthe door behind us, making the room feel incredibly stifling and claustrophobic. I had no idea how she could work in here all day. I’d go insane within an hour. I just hoped this meeting was quick.
“So,” she said as she settled into her desk chair and crossed one knee over the other, “I know we haven’t formally met yet, but my name is Emma and I am your guidance counselor for the year.”
She paused, looking like she was waiting for me to say something, but I was too busy staring at her huge smile and wondering if it was hurting her face to pick up on the cue in a timely manner. I only noticed once the smile began to waver, so I stammered out, “Nice to meet you.” Her too-big smile settled back on her face properly, which made me feel like I gave the right answer.
“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you in here,” she said. I quickly bobbed my head in a nod, now that I knew she wanted actual answers rather than just speaking rhetorically. “I’m setting up short meetings with all the senior students this year so we can discuss your university options.”
I sighed and relaxed in my seat. Just a routine meeting, no prying into my personal life necessary. Thank goodness.
“Just before we start, I noticed you’re the second Novak I’ve seen this week. Are you two related?”
“Sebastian’s my brother,” I said.
“I did think you looked similar,” she said, looking at me appraisingly. “Well, your brother has some pretty exciting university aspirations. Would you say you do too?”
The way she worded it didn’t really leave me the space to sayno. Sebastian was destined for great things, so of course I had to be as well. I didn’t respond immediately, so she continued on.
“It’s okay if you haven’t thought of it too much yet. That’s what I’m here to help you with! If you tell me what you’rehoping to do post-secondary, I can help you find some programs or universities to look at. But before we decide on that, are you hoping to stay within the country or go international? We have plenty of students here who go to the US for university, as you know, or perhaps you could goabroad.” She put extra emphasis on the word abroad, like she thought that I was about to burst into tears and sob about how much I missed the UK and I wanted to move back immediately.
Not that the thought of doing so hadn’t occurred to me. It was the first thing I’d thought of when I decided I wanted to get out of North Glen as soon as I graduated. I’d only ever lived in two places and moving back home didn’t sound like too bad of an idea. But the more I thought about it, the less sure I was. For all the distance I wanted, going back to the UK might feel more like stepping into the ghosts of my past rather than trying to move forward.
“I’m planning to stay in the country," I said, running my hands along my skirt a little nervously. Then I started to wonder whether she was analyzing every movement I made like a therapist. I almost stilled my hand, but then I realized that would probably seem bizarre as well. Finally, I decided to start speaking as quickly as I could, hoping that would distract her from anything else. “I don’t have my eye on any particular universities, but I was thinking of studying psychology.”
Did I have that much interest in psychology? Not really. But it was a really safe bet when people asked you what you wanted to study, because half the girls my age were going into it and the required high school classes to get into the university programs lined up with what Parkhurst Prep forced me to take anyway.
Emma's eyes brightened as if I told her that I wanted to become a guidance counselor just like her, and she turned toward the computer, shaking the mouse a little to wake it up.“That is fantastic! There's so many great psychology programs. So, have you looked at…”
I sat there for the next twenty minutes as she ran me through different university options. She started off with ones in the province, and while she ran through the merits of each one, I wondered what it would be like to stay that close to home. Ontario was big, but most of the universities were within a five-hour radius of one another. I wouldn't really get far away from here.
When she paused to take a breath about ten minutes in, I jumped in. “What about a little bit further? I was thinking I might want to move to one of the coasts, like Nova Scotia or British Columbia.”
Her eyes lit up even more—something I wouldn’t have thought was possible—and over the next five minutes, I learned that she was from Vancouver, had gone to the University of British Columbia, and shelovedit. (I was pretty sure she loved everything, with a double exclamation behind the word). By the time we moved onto discussing the actual programs, I felt like I’d lived through her four year undergrad there with her.
When I was finally allowed to walk out of her office, I was loaded down with pamphlets and my head was spinning so much that I wasn't sure I’d be able to make it through a single class before lunch. I needed some time to decompress from everything. Until now, I hadn’t given much thought to my future, aside from my plan to be anywhere but here, so having this much information dropped in my lap was more than a little overwhelming, especially since university applications didn’t even open for another month and weren’t due until after Christmas.
Emma walked me into the reception area with her hand on my shoulder, reassuring me that leaving home wasn’t as bad as it seemed and that I would probably love going to a differentprovince. I just smiled and thanked her, not really wanting to get into any of this, especially before I’d even gotten into the university.
I was ready to just get out of there and dump the pamphlets in my locker, not to be looked at for a minimum of two weeks, but I ground to a stop halfway to the door as I saw who was sitting in the seat I’d vacated twenty minutes ago.
I would have said one of the only benefits of getting called into the guidance office first thing in the morning was that I didn't have to sit next to Dean in History of Warfare today, but I guess fate didn't feel the same way, because there he was.
"Dean?" Emma asked from behind me, and he lifted his head, his brown hair flopping into his face. It wasn't as styled as usual, and I briefly wondered whether he had woken up late and didn't have time to get ready. And then I wondered why I was wondering anything about Dean or noticing his stupid hair.
"That's me," he said. He started to get up, but Emma waved at him.
“Give me a moment to finalize some things. I'll be with you within five minutes."
Dean didn’t seem bothered. He nodded and sat back down in his chair, pressing one arm on the back of it and sticking his other leg out, looking way too relaxed.
