March 9

     My friends realized by now that I couldn't hang out after school on Mondays and when they asked why, I said I had weekly medical appointments. "I have asthma," I explained, feeling slightly better that it was a half-truth.

One Monday, I was waiting in the lobby for therapy when I heard someone call my name. I looked up see Halfborn waving at me. I punched myself to make sure I wasn't hallucinating; he was still there. "Halfborn!" I exclaimed.

"Magnus!" Halfborn said warmly back. "I didn't know you saw Idun too!"

"You see Idun?" I asked.

"Course," Halfborn answered. "She's the best therapist in the entire Northeast. I originally came because of academic stress and she's helped me find good coping mechanisms like knitting and learning languages. It's also helped me deal with my anger and get along better with my girlfriend."

I was stunned. Halfborn, one of the best-ranked student wrestlers in Massachusetts, went to therapy — something I'd shied away from for so long because of the stigma of being viewed as a loser. "You won't tell anyone you saw me here, will you?" I asked, my voice thin.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of for seeking help," Halfborn said, "but no. Between us, I just bumped into you getting a new inhaler."

He winked and I sighed in relief. I knew I should not be ashamed of therapy, but as someone who had spent almost his entire school career being bullied, I was hypersensitive of potential threats. And yes, it was sad that kids thought going to therapy was something to bully people over, but that was the reality — no matter how messed up it was.

When Idun called me back, I was more muted than usual even after she gave me my customary snack (this time it was banana laffy taffies). "How has your week been?" she asked.

I told her about the upcoming college deadlines and my fears about going away. "It's just, did the first time in my school career, people actually seem to like me," I told her, "and in college . . . It might not be that way."

"Are any of your friends going to the same college or ones nearby?" Idun asked.

"I think so, but even then we're all studying different things," I answered. "What if we have no classes together? We'll drift apart and never see each other again. I'll be alone — only it will be worse this time because I'll be abandoned by people who I thought cared about me."

Idun raised one hand. "Magnus, you're letting your thoughts and fears control you."

I hated it when she said stuff like that. It made me feel weak — as if I was a driver who couldn't control a car. "Let's take some deep breathes," Idun said.

I did as she said, my chest slowly rising and falling. "Close your eyes and imagine your happy place."

Everyone's happy place is different. Mine happens to be a wolf-free library. I pictured myself sitting on a cushy (non-blue) armchair and opening one of my favorite books to read. My only worry in my happy place was what crazy stunt the author would try to pull next.

Idun let me stay in the happy place for five minutes and during then I thought about how the gods in the Maximus Chaos series really needed to go to family therapy; they had some unhealthy relationships. When my happy place time was over, Idun gave me a cold orange to hold. It was a grounding technique she's taught me; when my thoughts felt like flying towards the sky, I could squeeze the orange and feel my hand start to numb.

"You may be able to have some general educational classes together," Idun said, "and in college you'll have a lot more time out of class. You guys can meet up to study, have meals together, and you could even try rooming with a friend if your college gives you that option. College doesn't mean the end of your existing friendships; it merely means a transition. Things may change — I cannot promise they will remain the same, but if you can survive the American primary education system, then you can survive college."

I cheered up after that and we discussed strategies for making the college transition as smooth as possible. Idun suggested I discuss my fears with my friends and start on a list of things to pack and buy. We also discussed and made a list of coping mechanisms (which included deep breathing, looking at dank memes, imagining my wolf-free happy place, and writing down my feelings).

    My dad took me to this really good Polish place for dinner and I brought the leftovers home. My mother jumped up when I came in and pointed to a letter on the coffee table. I said goodbye to my father and then tore open the letter. "It's from Asgard University," I said as I read it. "They accepted me into the nursing program and given me a scholarship for it."

I handed the letter to my mother and I swear that her smile lit up the room. She almost crushed me with her hug and then did her happy mom dance (just imagine Tinkerbell during the intro of Disney movies and you get the idea). "Magnus, I'm so proud of you. Now all that's left is for you to decide whether to accept or not."

      I stared at her. "Are you joking? A scholarship yo pay for my nursing degree? This is a dream come true."

     My mother smiled and ruffled my hair. "You still have some time to decide, Magnus."

      "Thanks mom," I replied. "I'm going to go to my room."

   Perhaps my mother thought I was going to look up more about Asgard University, but instead I watched an episode of Doctor Who and did some homework. I ended up staying up until 11:42 PM doing a paper for my Constitution class before I fell asleep.

***

   I woke up the next day with my clothes from yesterday still on, a stale taste in my mouth, and dozens of notifications on my phone. I saw it was not even six o'clock. Then, my eyes chances to scan the most recent notification and my heart started hammering in my chest. It was from Alex and she sounded upset.