My Father's Best Friend

Lanie “It’s high school, though,” I said again. “I didn’t think I would be a counselor at a high school. Elementary school, yeah. Maybe junior high. These kids are going to be, like, almost my age.” “Mmm. You’re twenty-eight.” “Yeah, well, I still feel like I’m twenty. Like I don’t know jack shit.” “I think everyone feels that way.” “Are they even going to take me seriously?” Erica inhaled for a long time before blowing out a breath that fluffed her bangs. “Assert yourself, and they will. To high-schoolers, ten years is a big difference.” “True.” I remembered all the teachers from when Erica and I were in school. Half of them weren’t any older than I currently was, but they’d seemed so advanced. Back then, I figured they were all married, with kids and mortgages—three things I now still didn’t have. Though looking for counseling jobs once I received my master’s degree after years of night classes was the obvious thing to do, getting a job offer after my first application had t

Andrew“Hey!” Raven cried as I turned out the lights.Wet footsteps echoed in the space, coming closer to me.I turned the light on, finding Raven standing just a few feet away, hair dripping and eyes flashing. Without any warning, I gasped. Those bright green eyes, wild with emotion, the long, honey waves and sharp chin.With each day that passed, Raven looked more and more like her mother.Maybe that was part of what had made our relationship so hard in the last year. But who the fuck knew?“What do you want from me?” she demanded, attitude turned up to the max.I shook my head, more to get ahold of myself than anything else. Raven was not her mother. They were two completely different people. I needed to remember that.“I should be asking you that,” I answered. “What do you want that you don’t have? Why are you screwing up your life?”Her arms folded and then quickly unfolded, showing her discomfort. Avoiding my eyes, she snatched her towel from the chair and began to dry her hair

Lanie Trailing my finger down the page, I found the girl’s stats. Raven Marx. Seventeen. A senior at South Seattle. Had some disruptions the previous year, including skipping classes and talking back to teachers. The last few weeks, though, things had gone further south. She’d taken to cussing in class and threatening other students with harm. Moving past Raven’s file, I read the few other ones in the folder. Just judging from the family information on the other pages, I got a sense of why the kids were likely having troubles. One boy’s father was in prison, and another’s parents were going through divorce. There was more information on all the kids, but I left the detailed reading for another time and moseyed my way down the hall. There were coworkers to meet. Too soon, the teacher’s lounge was in front of me. With sweaty palms, I opened the door and went in. Two women not much older than me stood talking in the little kitchen area, and a man with salt-and-pepper hair hunched over

Lanie The piercing scream shook my bones, making me jump in my seat and drop the scholarship papers I’d been looking over. Heart thudding, I left the papers on the floor and rushed to the door. Someone fainted? Or brought a weapon to school? A dozen awful possibilities ran through my head. Cracking the door the slightest bit, I looked down the hall. Near the front office, a girl with long, blond hair stood with clenched fists. “It’s not fair!” she yelled. “Miss Marx,” a female voice said from inside the office. “Have a seat. Now.” So that was the infamous Raven Marx. My second day at school and she already had a run-in. Not surprising in the least. “Why?” Raven shrieked. “I didn’t do anything. Nothing that the bitch didn’t deserve.” I cringed at the harsh words. Everyone up and down the hall had to hear Raven. The other voice said something I couldn’t make out, and Raven stood there for a few more moments, her chest heaving up and down. I took the time to inspect her closely.

Andrew Inside the country club was a little busier than outside. People chatted quietly over small tables, and the shiny, wooden bar only had one customer—an older woman drinking what looked like tea. “A whiskey,” I told the vested bartender as I took a seat. “Neat.” He set the tumbler down in front of me, and I took a long sip that burned my nose and throat. It didn’t help any. My problems were still there. What was I going to do if the meeting with the counselor led nowhere? Take Raven to see a specialist outside of school? What if that didn’t work? She never talked about school, but that had to be the problem. Home was fine, somewhat. Nothing went on there. Come to think of it, maybe that was the issue. It had been years since Raven had a friend over. That wasn’t normal. When I was her age, I was practically glued to my friends. If South Seattle wasn’t working out, I could take her out of it. Her senior year had only just started. She could get in at another school. Not priva