A Cry for Help

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. She was tall and thin with hair that went all the way down to her waist. It was currently tangled, though, and her sweater hung off one shoulder, making her look the opposite of put together.

After a beat, Raven slowly went into the office. Holding my back straight in the hope that it made me look like the responsible, commanding adult I was supposed to be, I headed in the same direction.

One step through the doorway and air thick with disgust pervaded my senses. Raven sat with her arms folded against one wall. Opposite her, a female student stared out the window with pursed lips. Behind the desk, Joyce looked like she’d just survived World War III.

“Is everything all right?” I quietly asked the one adult in the room.

Joyce gave me that “What do you think?” look and then turned to the girl I’d never met. “Kayla. Mr. Fredrico’s office.”

Kayla passed me, muttering something to herself. Raven stayed where she was, frozen and staring at the floor.

Though I hadn’t planned on having this meeting so early, there was no better time like the present. Licking my lips, I opened my mouth to ask for a minute with Raven—but the principal’s door opened, cutting me off.

“Raven.” Principal Stafford tucked his chin and looked down at her. “Come on in.”

With a disgruntled noise, Raven pushed herself from the chair and headed into his office. The principal’s eyes briefly caught mine, and he gave me a smile and a nod.

The door clicked closed behind him, leaving me alone with Joyce, who was busy doing something on her cell phone.

I lightly cleared my throat. “Does this happen much?” I whispered, conscious that Principal Stafford’s office wasn’t more than six feet away.

“With Kayla? No. Raven? Recently, yes. Not fights, but she ends up in the office a lot for other things.”

“Ah.” I nodded, conscious of the heavy feeling in my stomach.

“These fights are always over the dumbest things.” Joyce shook her head. “With girls, that is. Boys fight when one of them steals a girlfriend. But girls? Some of them are just looking for an excuse to rip someone’s hair out. A bad look. A rumor that’s not even true.”

“Hm.”

Some of what she was saying might have been true, but as a general rule, I didn’t entertain gross generalizations. Boys and girls could have different ways of dealing with feelings, but that didn’t mean all female teenagers were looking for a fight.

“Do you know why they started arguing?”

“Raven said Kayla laughed at her when she got an answer wrong in class.”

“Could that be true?”

“Probably. Does it matter? According to the teacher, Raven jumped up and pushed Kayla right out of her seat.”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“This could be it for that girl.” Joyce gave me a pointed look. “Expulsion. And good riddance. We’ll all be better off without such a prissy brat around.”

“I want to arrange a parent-teacher meeting,” I quickly said. “Will you tell Mr. Stafford that? Before he lays down the law. Maybe I can get to Raven. You’d be surprised how quickly some kids turn around with a bit of the right kind of attention.”

“I’ll tell him.” She dubiously shook her head as she scribbled what I’d said down on a notepad. “Don’t hold your breath.”

I glanced at Principal Stafford’s door. His monotonous, deep voice could be heard from the other side, but none of the words came across clearly.

“She’s one of the reasons the last counselor quit, you know.”

Joyce had my full attention once more. “No, I didn’t know.”

“Not that Raven is the only kid here with issues. Some of them have real problems, you know? Parents addicted to crack. Can’t even afford a pair of sneakers. But Leslie was able to help them. Raven, well, she doesn’t want any help.”

At this point, the rock in my stomach was so heavy, it had me anchored in one place. Surely the last counselor had more experience than I did, and if she couldn’t help Raven, I wasn’t as sure about my odds.

No. I couldn’t think like that. If that was the attitude I was going to take, then I needed to go ahead and quit.

“Please give Principal Stafford my message.” My smile didn’t reach my fearful heart, but I kept it going regardless. “A meeting as soon as possible would be best.”

Joyce nodded, and I returned to my office, where the scholarship papers still waited on the floor. After picking them all up and setting them neatly on the desk, I pulled Raven’s file once more. I’d been too busy to give it anything other than the brief glance I did the day before, but now I sat down and read every single word.

“All Bs and As until last year,” I read out loud. “A member of the German club and soccer team until quitting suddenly. Father, Andrew Marx.”

A wave of realization swept over me. Andrew Marx. Wasn’t that the guy Erica said owned the giant company or whatever?

If so, that would explain why “brat” was basically Raven’s official nickname. Often, the assumption with kids who came from money was that they were given everything they wanted, and that led to them thinking they could do what they pleased.

But I’d seen spoiled kids before. They whined and expected everything to be easy. This wasn’t what Raven was doing.

Something else was going on.

The second my eyes darted to the page, I found the next bit of needed information. Mother deceased as of ten years ago.

To sum it up, Raven came from what could only be surmised as a busy, single-parent household. That was assuming her father hadn’t remarried.

It was all I needed. Even without yet meeting Raven’s father, I could take a good guess as to what the main problem likely was.

Making assumptions was wrong, but my counselor senses were tingling, telling me there could be some kind of abuse or neglect happening at home. That clenching, rock-hard sensation returned to my gut. I didn’t even like to think about what Raven could be going through at home, but it was my job to find out.

Good thing was, I’d already requested a parent-teacher conference.

Bad thing was, it couldn’t come quickly enough.