Chapter 23 #2
“You’ve got an older brother, who didn’t finish high school, making you the first in your family to graduate and hopefully attend college.
” My lip curled with bitterness at how wrong she was.
“Well, that is if you put in the work to improve your grades,” she added, and I rolled my eyes.
“And Mr. Crane tells me that up until recently you’ve been an active member of the peer tutoring center since freshman year.
“But about a month ago your grades started dropping, you started sleeping in class, or not bothering to show up at all, and now you’re refusing to put in any effort at all to improve. So, what’s your plan? Drop out?”
Excellent fucking idea. Then I wouldn’t have to bother with all this fucking bullshit.
Ms. Gonzalez kept her eyes on me, waiting patiently in silence for me to say anything. It was getting awkward, and I clenched the pillow harder with my fists. I noticed her gaze flick towards the clock on the wall before settling back on my face.
“What if I said yes?” I finally relented just to clear the awkward silence.
She pursed her lips in thought before speaking. “I’d ask you what you planned to do then.”
“Get a job, obviously.”
She nodded. “And why not finish the school year and then get a job? It’s only seven more months, and you’ll be a much better candidate for jobs if you have a diploma.”
I let out a silent groan. What was I supposed to tell her to get her to leave me alone? She was right, and I didn’t have a good excuse to bullshit her with.
“I take it you know this,” she said, raising a brow in question.
“Yes,” I muttered. “It’s just probably the best option for me.”
“And why’s that?”
I could tell she was curious and eager to know the truth, but I could never give it to her. What the fuck would I say? ‘Oh, I’m planning to marry an older man and become a housewife so the gang I’m in can commit crimes of political corruption.’
“What does your family think?”
“My dad doesn’t give a shit,” I spat with annoyance.
“That must be hard,” she said, with a sad smile. “Your family is supposed to support you, help you to make choices in your life that will help you to succeed.”
I rolled my eyes with a scoff.
“And your brother?”
My stomach tensed at the mention of Javier and what he would think about my choices lately.
Just the thought of him knowing everything that I’d done since his death made me want to die.
I might not have known all his secrets, but I was sure as shit that he would’ve at least called me a weak failure.
I cleared my throat trying to get rid of the lump that had formed.
“He wouldn’t have an opinion. He’s fucking dead,” I said angrily as my eyes started stinging with tears.
“Fuck,” I grumbled, reaching over for the box of tissues on the small table between our chairs. I muttered curses to myself as I dried my eyes and began fanning my face.
“What are you feeling right now?” Ms. Gonzalez asked with sympathy.
“Like my fucking eyeballs are getting stung by a hive of killer bees,” I spat with annoyance. “You said you read my file, so you should know I’m allergic to my tears.”
She gasped and urgently asked me if I needed an EpiPen.
“No,” I growled. “But some fucking ice would help.”
“Of-of course. I’ll be right back.”
I heard the door slam against the wall and let out a sigh of frustration.
For fuck’s sake.
Fuck this motherfucking day.
Fuck me for being such a goddamn fucking weak-ass puta. I swear, I’m either getting more pathetic by the hour or my allergic reactions are getting worse.
I heard her shoes slapping the carpet in the hall as she rushed back to the office, pushing a styrofoam cup of ice into my outstretched hand. “Do you need the nurse?” She asked, her bracelet charms rattling as she fidgeted beside me.
“No,” I sighed in relief as I pressed the ice cubes to my face.
She was silent before I heard her sit in the chair opposite me again and the door shut.
“I’m sorry to hear about your brother. It’s no wonder your schoolwork has been affected. Losing a sibling is a devastating trauma.”
I clenched my jaw, trying to suppress the emotions fighting to be released.
“I can meet with your teachers, and we can come up with a plan on how best to support you,” she said, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder gently. “We want you to succeed. We’re going to help you through this grieving process, Shiloh.”
I let out a groan, something to release some of the pressure in my chest that was aching. “If I’m even fucking here,” I mumbled to myself.
Ms. Gonzalez took a sharp breath and placed her hand on my arm that was currently dripping with the water from the ice melting in my hands. “Shiloh, are you having thoughts of hurting yourself?”
She sounded genuinely concerned, and I briefly wondered how many times she’d had to ask that question to crying teenagers in her office.
“No, I just meant I’m not coming back next semester,” I said firmly, trying to reassure her that she didn’t need to freak out that I was going to kill myself, however much I’d privately thought about it.
“Right,” she said with a breath of relief. “Look, I’m sure it might seem pointless, but can you try and help me understand your reasons for leaving?”
I let out a sigh, removing my hands from my sore eyes and wiping them on my leggings. I blinked several times, trying to focus on Ms. Gonzalez’s face, but it hurt like a bitch, so I closed my eyes again.
“I’ve already fucked up my grades, so I just…it’s easier to walk away than try and fix things.”
She hummed in thought for a moment before speaking.
“I know it might seem like an impossible task to get your grades back to what they were, but I know that once your teachers are aware of your situation they’ll be happy to make accommodations for you to at the very least graduate this year.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at her or say something bitchy.
“Can you promise to at least wait until I’ve spoken with your teachers and we offer you a plan?”
“Sure,” I lied, not bothering to sound convincing. “Now can I take that nap you promised?”
She let out a sound of satisfaction with my answer and told me to make myself comfortable.