“It was a placement test used in our district for transfer students. Because of your scores, you've been placed in the majority of AP classes.”
I lay back with a groan and rubbed my hands over my face. “This is so not good.”
“Why isn't that good? You should be happy that you're intelligent enough to take advanced classes.”
“Yeah, normally that would be a good thing, like say when you've lived somewhere all of your life. But whenever you've just moved, all people are going to think is that you're a huge nerd.” I groaned and hid behind my hands. This would just be another mark against me.
“I thought you didn't care to be popular or what people thought about you.”
“I don't care about being popular, but I've had more than enough of being an outcast.”
“Ah, back to Becca, are we?”
I stiffened and looked over at him. “You know I hate this, right?”
“Yes, I know. But it will help you in time.”
I shook my head and stared off into space. “I doubt there's anything in your vast knowledge that could help me.” I thought about my incidents and the most recent one. There was nothing in his bag of tricks that could remove the darkness.
“You'd be surprised.”
“Yeah, well I doubt it.”
He tapped his fingers on his desk. “Well, we won't get anywhere today if we just spend our time arguing. Why don't we go back to Becca and her 'social death' threats?”
I took a deep breath and started playing with my hair. “Since she threw herself so whole-heartedly into obtaining the status that she wanted, it was rather easy for her. I kind of admired her that way.”
“In what way?”
“How she would think of something that she'd want, then go after it with such determination. She always got what she wanted when she set her mind to it.”
“I can see how you would admire that about her.”
“Yeah, but it can be a double edged sword. I mean, it would be great for someone you know to have that whenever they're on good terms with you. But when they turn, it can be a vicious weapon.”
“What did she do?”
I shrugged and tried to keep an off-hand tone. “She made me a social pariah. Had everyone believe that I was a slut and a druggie. It's easy to manipulate people when they're only looking for the worst in others. So she spread a whole bunch of shit around, and since she had all the social standing and I didn't, people chose to believe her. That way they wouldn't lose their place on the social ladder.”
“That must have been difficult for you.”
I laughed bitterly and looked over at him. “That’s the understatement of the year. Within a week I lost my best friend, all my friends from school, and my good name. All that I had left was the life of lies that she had created for me.”
“How did you feel about all that?”
“How do you think? I was furious. Depressed, completely dejected. I thought I'd eventually grow out of those feelings, once the rumors died down or she found someone else to set her sights on, but if anything, it got worse.”
“What got worse?”
“The anger, rage.”
He steepled his hands in front of him, looking off into the distance. “What was it like for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“To go to school through all of that?”
I settled myself further into the chair. “Oh, it was great.” I could feel the sarcastic bite in my tone. “Went to school every day, completely ignored by the people who were supposed to be my friends. The only time they’d talk to me was when they had a nasty comment to say. My favorite day would have to be when they put enough condoms in my locker to fill it up. Then, when I went to open it, they all fell out with a little note on a fake prescription pad saying that my ‘weeks’ supply was in. Then, I got tired of having my lunch tray dumped and food thrown at me, so I started having my lunch in the bathroom. Yes, my life was awesome, and those are just some of the memories.”
He frowned and took a moment to order his thoughts. “I’m not going to baby it and say stuff you already know, like people are cruel and life is hard, because you’ve had firsthand experience. Nor will I placate you and say everything will get better, because that all depends on if you make it better.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil.”
“Actually, it’s Dr. James.” He laughed and sat back in his chair, studying me. I always felt like he was looking at me under a microscope. Rubbing his hands maniacally while laughing like an evil scientist in some B-rated, eighties horror movie. I tried not to squirm under his direct gaze.
“While sarcasm can be a great defense mechanism, eventually you will have to move from it and face your past in order to overcome it.”
“Jesus, you sound like my mother.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” A lopsided smirk crossed his face fleetingly then he quickly turned serious as he started swiveling again. I wondered how many chairs he must break from that constant motion.
“Let’s get back to your anger, your rage. When you're enraged, how does it feel?”
I fidgeted, lost in my thoughts. “It’s kind of like a darkness, an electric ball that’s constantly inside of me. As my anger rises, the electricity flares out, consuming me, reaching out to other things and people around me, and the darkness starts to consume me.”
“I've never heard it described that way. That’s a really interesting way to look at it though. Do you ever feel like you're going to lose yourself to it?” A look of compassion crossed his face.
I looked up at him through blurry eyes from unshed tears and answered honestly with the thought that had been haunting me for over a year. “Yes. I'm afraid that one day, there isn't going to be anything of me left.”
Chapter Thirteen
I almost regretted having two days off. Sure, I'd love the time to relax and think about things, but I didn't want to be stuck at home. I heard muted voices coming from the living room as I walked in. I tossed my keys onto the entryway table and slipped off my tennis shoes. Bare foot, I walked over to see what my mother and father were doing. I stopped before the living room to listen to their conversation.
“Do you think that this will work on her?” Mom asked.
“I don't know. She seems to be better these past few days.”
“I know, but there's always a period of peace where we almost have our daughter back after she has an incident. It seems like they've become shorter and shorter and her anger just increases between those times. I really don't know what to do with her anymore.”
The sound of fabric rustling was the only noise in the oncoming silence. I hesitated and waited to see if they'd talk more. I peered around the corner and saw my parents sitting together on the couch, a contrast in beauty. Mom was laying with her head in Dad's lap. He frowned in thought while he absentmindedly stroked through her silky, strawberry blond hair.
“Look, I know you're worried,” he said while gazing down and lovingly stroking the side of her face, “but it will all sort out in time. Besides, she's a teenager, how bad can it get?”
She rolled her eyes at him, unable to stop her returning grin. “Don't ask that. Things always get worse when people ask that.”
He leaned back. “Well, we'll just have to see how long this period of rest lasts. I don't know what we'll do if she doesn't snap out of this aggressive personality she's developed.”
Mom rolled onto her side and relaxed into his protective warmth. “I don't know either. Do you think she hurt Rebecca?” The question was spoken quietly but it seemed to pierce my heart like a thousand daggers. I was barely breathing.
I froze and stood motionless in the doorway. I stared intently at my parents, waiting for an answer.