The counselor's suite.

I've been going to this school for four years, and I've only been in here once, well twice, including this time. The suite is filled with the 9th-12th grade counselors, along with the senior's college counselor. The chair I am sitting on is really comfy. I don't remember this blue chair being here last time. It must be new, Ms. Moore probably bought new furniture with that money my dad gave her, well gave the school.

One of the office doors comes open. I stand up from my seat. A lady comes outs. She has thick long black hair. She is wearing black pants and a yellow top. "Jayda King?" she says.

"Yeah." I stand up from my chair.

"I'm Ms. Rodriguez, your guidance counselor, and the counselor for all the young ladies here." She stretches out her hand. I shake it. "Follow me."

She turns around. I follow her back into the room that she walked out of. When we enter, my eyes immediately go to her wall. She has three certificates plastered on them. I can't see what they say because they're too far away.

Or I'm just blind, I have glasses at home, but I never wear them. I should start, though. I'm tired of squinting at everything.

She takes a seat behind her desk, and I take a seat in the chair in front. "So I'm glad I'm finally able to talk to you. I was trying to get you last week, Tuesday after lunch, but I couldn't find you," she says.

"Oh." Is all I can say. I can't tell my counselor that I skipped school. I should have never skipped school in the first place—another stupid decision to add to my stupid decisions list.

"But I'm happy I'm able to meet with you today. I called you down here because I wanted to discuss your future with you. Your college plans."

"Shouldn't I be talking to the college counselor about that?" I ask—She isn't the college counselor; she's basically just a therapist for the female students. I don't need a therapist. I already have one, and I'm talking to her today. I don't have the patience to be bombarded with questions from her and Rachel, especially on the same day.

"Yes and no. Mr. Simms helps the students find and apply to college. He helps them with their essays, scholarships, and financial aid for the students who need them. I'm not really here to discuss those things with you."

"So what else about college do I need to know that I can't just discuss with Mr. Simms?" I know there's irritation in my voice, but I am getting irritated; that is one emotion I'm not good at hiding.

"Well, Mr. Simms brought to my attention that you have not yet applied for any colleges. Why is that?" she asks.

I shrug my shoulders. "I haven't made a decision yet." Her question makes me think of what I found out at dinner last week with Caleb and the Whitmore's. I forgot to ask my dad about it. He said he reached out to colleges for me. I never asked him what colleges or why he decided to take it upon himself and pick out colleges for me without consulting me.

"Well, time is of the essence; colleges have already opened their enrollment. Do you not already have colleges in mind? Usually, people start thinking about what colleges they want to go to Junior year."

"Well, I wasn't here junior year." Even if I were here junior year, I wouldn't have thought of any colleges.

I don't see myself having a future, so why would I plan for one.

"Right, You left mid junior year, your parents sent you to boarding school, and now you are back."

"Right," I say and look around, trying to keep a poker face. I always tense up and get all sweaty when someone asks me about boarding school. I never know what they're going to ask. I don't even know what to tell them when they ask me what the school's name is. I would give them the name of the facility, but if they look it up, the first thing they will see is mental health facility. Plus, the name Second Chances doesn't really sound like a boarding school name.

"That actually reminds me, I need to get your SAT scores from them." She pulls out some sticky notes and begins to write. "I'll do that later." she places the stick, not on her computer. "So that I'll be able to tell Mr.Simms something, is there at least one college you have in mind? That you would maybe like to attend."

"Um, I don't know, maybe, NYU," I say. Her eyes light up.

"Really! Well, I went to Columbia, as you can see." She points to the degrees on her wall. "New York is lovely. I loved every second I spent there."

"Why would you leave to come here?"

"I've always been a city girl. I grew up in Washington, DC. Georgetown, I attend Woodrow Wilson High School, which is the heart of George Town." She says, "I always knew that I wanted to go to college in the city. Still, I didn't want to stay in DC, but I wanted to be close to my parents. So I went to New York, it's about three hours away." she explains "After college, I worked in New York. It wasn't until a couple of months ago. I decided I wanted a slower pace, a change. So I came here."

"Do you like it?" I ask, letting my curiosity take over.

"Yeah. Its different leaving the city and coming to a suburban area, it was a big change, but it was for the best. I love it here. Why do you want to go to NYU? Why do you want to leave?"

I don't say anything for a minute; I need to collect up my thoughts. "I want a change. I've lived here all my life, and I don't think small towns are for me."

"Oh, and why is that?" she asks.

"In small towns, it's kind of hard to be yourself; everyone judges you here, everyone knows everything about you," I explain my true feelings about Crossland, PA. "In a big city like New York, no one will know me. No one will know my routine; nobody would know if I've been gone or anything. No one will know anything about me unless I tell them. There it'll just be me against the world."

She smiles at my comment. "I understand. I definitely get it. Well, you know NYU has already opened its enrollment, and it is a competitive school to get into; they only have a twenty-eight percent acceptance rate." she says.

"Great, so you're saying I won't be able to get in?" That doesn't surprise me. I've never been a lucky person. Nothing ever goes my way, and I never get what I want.

"I believe that without my help, you won't be able to get in."

"Help?" How could she possibly help me?

"Well, I happen to know the dean of admissions at NYU personally."

"You do?" I say, not hiding the excitement in my voice.

"Yes, I do. If you're interested, I could set up an interview with her for you. What do you say?"

"Yes, yes, absolutely!"

"Great, I will give him a call later on today. He'll probably want to see you soon, so make sure you tell your parents. Now I just need to ask you a few more questions.

Lunch has already started. It started twenty minutes ago. Ms. Rodriguez spent all that time asking me about a major I was interested in; I told her creative writing. She then went on to tell me about the amazing Creative writing program that NYU offers. She asked me about the extracurricular activities I'm a part of or have been a part of. I told her that I've recently joined STEM again, I left out how recently meant today. I didn't have anything else to tell her. I did most of my activities in middle school. Not highschool.

I was a part of STEM the team all freshman year until my episode during the assembly. Then I quit.

I look at the papers in my hand. She printed off info about NYU and its programs. I'm supposed to go over it. I'll read it later. I take the papers and put them in my bookbag, and close my lockers. I wonder how my parents would feel about me going to NYU for creative writing.

They would love the idea of me going to NYU for college, but they don't support my writing. I don't even know if they know I write.

It doesn't matter if they did or didn't. I know my parents; they will not approve. They believe that anything in the arts will not be a sustainable, reliable career. They won't pay for it, and there's no way I can pay for it myself, so there's a slim chance I'll go.

I walk down the hallway to the girl's bathroom. When I open the door, my eyes go straight to the blonde girl who's crying over the sink. It's Ashely. She doesn't even look in my direction; her hands cover her eyes, and she continues crying. I let the door go; it slams shut. She looks at me. Her face turns into a frown.

"You. This is all your fault." she sobs. I don't say anything; I just look at her. She looks me up and down with disgust on her face. "We were fine until you came along. Brooks just had to pair you two up," she says. "What is it that you have that I don't?" she asks.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about. I know you're the reason Ryder broke up with me. Did you tell him to break up with me after he had sex with me?" she shouts.

"Ashely, I had nothing to do with you guys breaking up, and I definitely did not tell him to do that. I wouldn't do that."

"I find that hard to believe I treat you terribly. That was probably your way of getting me back. If you wanted to make me feel as awful as I make you feel. Congratulations, it worked." she spits. "Do you know how humiliating it is to have someone break up with you after sex? The way he said 'we're done,' not even a minute after we finished. I begged him to stay, and he just left."

I don't know what to say. I've never had that happen to me before. I hope that never happens to me.

It will never happen to me. I'm never going to lose my virginity.

She takes a deep breath, then looks in the mirror and wipes both of her eyes. She walks towards me.

"It's ok. He always comes back." she slightly bumps into me as she walks out of the bathroom.