balloons.
The door opened and a student I didn’t recognize slipped out. He kept his eyes on the floor as he passed me.
“Hamlet Kennedy? You out there?” A deep voice came from inside the office.
“Uh-huh,” I whispered, then cleared my throat.
“Well, come on in. I don’t bite.” The door opened wider, and I got a look at Dr. Lafevre, whom I hadn’t seen since sixth-grade orientation.
Tall—really tall—and skinny, he had a short brown beard and long brownish-blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. He also had a nice smile and crinkly blue eyes.
“Everything with your family is okay,” he said as soon as he saw me. “No worries.”
I let out a huge breath.
“I make sure that’s the first thing I say when someone new comes to the door. Well, that and call me James.” He gestured to his office. “Come in and have a seat.”
I stepped into his office. Instead of a big desk, he had a small one stuck in a corner. Two bulgy green armchairs squatted in the middle of the room, a teeny coffee table covered in pamphlets in between them.
James sat in one of the chairs and offered me the other one. I put my bag on the floor and tried to perch on the edge of the seat, but the chair was too squashy and I fell into it. I struggled to sit up straight.
“So,” he said, propping his hands on his knees and leaning toward me. He was so lanky that sitting that way he looked like a coat hanger that’d been bent in half. “I bet you’re wondering why you’re here and not in math class.”
I nodded.
“I hear that you have a lot going on right now,” he said, “and I thought you might want to talk about it.”
A completely clueless “huh?” came out of my mouth, but my brain buzzed with a zillion questions and emotions: Who had told him I “had a lot going on”? What did he know? Was this about Dezzie? About English? About Saber and Mauri using my sister? About my plummeting math grade? What was I supposed to say? I was embarrassed, angry, and confused, all at once.
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “It must be difficult having your sister here this year, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” His eyes were warm, and he smiled at me.
“Um, well, it’s been . . . okay,” I said, not sure what my response should be. Part of me didn’t want to get into everything that had gone on, the other part was a teeny bit happy to have someone finally ask me how things were going, instead of just telling me what to do.
James nodded, encouraging me to continue.
“I mean, we’re only in one class together, so it’s fine,” I said. Should I mention the fight? Or that Dezzie was upset about art? That didn’t seem to be what he wanted to talk about, so I just stopped there.
“It can be difficult to have a sibling like yours to begin with,” James said. “And then to have her come to your place . . . well, I bet it’s been a tough start to the year. Are you okay with that?”
“Not really.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. Why had I said that? Now he’d want to get into all the stuff that the counselor guy at SMARTS camp wanted to discuss—and I wasn’t interested in any of it.
“I bet,” he said. Then he was quiet for a minute, like he was waiting for me to say something. I didn’t. “Do you want to tell me more about it?”
I shook my head.
“Look, Hamlet. This is a safe place. Nothing you say here can be repeated to anyone. Not your parents, your sister, or your friends—unless you want me to. So it’s okay to tell me what you’re thinking.”
I understood what he meant, and I did trust him. It was hard not to, with his nice eyes and relaxed attitude. I could see why Ely came in here regularly. But suddenly I felt tired and empty. I was exhausted from the fight with Dezzie, stressed about English, worried about my ever-faltering pre-al class, and just sick of thinking about it all.
“I think I just want to go back to class.”
James rubbed his
The door opened and a student I didn’t recognize slipped out. He kept his eyes on the floor as he passed me.
“Hamlet Kennedy? You out there?” A deep voice came from inside the office.
“Uh-huh,” I whispered, then cleared my throat.
“Well, come on in. I don’t bite.” The door opened wider, and I got a look at Dr. Lafevre, whom I hadn’t seen since sixth-grade orientation.
Tall—really tall—and skinny, he had a short brown beard and long brownish-blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. He also had a nice smile and crinkly blue eyes.
“Everything with your family is okay,” he said as soon as he saw me. “No worries.”
I let out a huge breath.
“I make sure that’s the first thing I say when someone new comes to the door. Well, that and call me James.” He gestured to his office. “Come in and have a seat.”
I stepped into his office. Instead of a big desk, he had a small one stuck in a corner. Two bulgy green armchairs squatted in the middle of the room, a teeny coffee table covered in pamphlets in between them.
James sat in one of the chairs and offered me the other one. I put my bag on the floor and tried to perch on the edge of the seat, but the chair was too squashy and I fell into it. I struggled to sit up straight.
“So,” he said, propping his hands on his knees and leaning toward me. He was so lanky that sitting that way he looked like a coat hanger that’d been bent in half. “I bet you’re wondering why you’re here and not in math class.”
I nodded.
“I hear that you have a lot going on right now,” he said, “and I thought you might want to talk about it.”
A completely clueless “huh?” came out of my mouth, but my brain buzzed with a zillion questions and emotions: Who had told him I “had a lot going on”? What did he know? Was this about Dezzie? About English? About Saber and Mauri using my sister? About my plummeting math grade? What was I supposed to say? I was embarrassed, angry, and confused, all at once.
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “It must be difficult having your sister here this year, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” His eyes were warm, and he smiled at me.
“Um, well, it’s been . . . okay,” I said, not sure what my response should be. Part of me didn’t want to get into everything that had gone on, the other part was a teeny bit happy to have someone finally ask me how things were going, instead of just telling me what to do.
James nodded, encouraging me to continue.
“I mean, we’re only in one class together, so it’s fine,” I said. Should I mention the fight? Or that Dezzie was upset about art? That didn’t seem to be what he wanted to talk about, so I just stopped there.
“It can be difficult to have a sibling like yours to begin with,” James said. “And then to have her come to your place . . . well, I bet it’s been a tough start to the year. Are you okay with that?”
“Not really.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. Why had I said that? Now he’d want to get into all the stuff that the counselor guy at SMARTS camp wanted to discuss—and I wasn’t interested in any of it.
“I bet,” he said. Then he was quiet for a minute, like he was waiting for me to say something. I didn’t. “Do you want to tell me more about it?”
I shook my head.
“Look, Hamlet. This is a safe place. Nothing you say here can be repeated to anyone. Not your parents, your sister, or your friends—unless you want me to. So it’s okay to tell me what you’re thinking.”
I understood what he meant, and I did trust him. It was hard not to, with his nice eyes and relaxed attitude. I could see why Ely came in here regularly. But suddenly I felt tired and empty. I was exhausted from the fight with Dezzie, stressed about English, worried about my ever-faltering pre-al class, and just sick of thinking about it all.
“I think I just want to go back to class.”
James rubbed his
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