Swimming Upstream

Lanie

South Seattle High School was bigger than it was supposed to be.

At least that’s what I thought as I stood outside looking at it on my first day. Had it been so gargantuan when I had gone in for my interview?

I didn’t think so. Although, maybe the fact that I didn’t feel intimidated at all that other morning led to me being confident and getting the job.

This day, though, I was anything but sure. I felt like it was my own first day of high school as I navigated the swarm of students in the main hallway, none of who gave me so much as a second look. Right then, I was just another adult to them, someone whose name they thought they wouldn’t remember in five years.

I hoped to change that. South Seattle had over a thousand students, which meant there had to be hundreds of kids there who needed help in some way or another. Luckily, that’s what I was there for. Hopefully, by the time these teenagers left high school, they’d be at least a little more adjusted, thanks to me.

Really, I didn’t even care whether they ever remembered my name or not. I just wanted to have as much of a positive effect on them as I possibly could.

At the main office, I rapped on the open door. A middle-aged woman behind a desk glanced up, her half-hooded eyes looking bored with me already. A thread of anxiety wound its way through my heart, and I once again felt like the new kid—unsure and afraid no one would like me.

“Hi. I’m Lanie Jacobs. I’m the new counselor.” Despite my feelings, I smiled like it was the best day of my life.

She opened her mouth, but a male voice filled the room instead.

“Good morning, Miss Jacobs. How are you doing?”

It was Principal Stafford, sidling through a doorway on the other side of the office. He smiled at me, nodding as if in approval. “It’s so good to have you here.”

“I’m excited to be here.” I clasped my hands together and nervously squeezed—then quickly dropped them at my sides. The only thing worse than being anxious was everyone knowing you were.

Principal Stafford cleared his throat. “This is, uh, Joyce.” He motioned at the woman behind the desk and, as a second employee came in, her as well. “And Robin.”

Robin was younger than Joyce and seemed to be more pleasant since she at least gave me a wave and a smile.

Joyce and Robin. Joyce and Robin. I repeated the names in my head, sure I would only be able to remember half the names I’d learn that day but eager to try regardless.

“I’ll take you to your office.” He swung his arm in excitement, and I followed him back into the hall.

“Principal Stafford,” a boy sang out as we passed him by the bathrooms. He held his hand out for a fist bump, and the principal complied. The guy in charge of the school seemed kind of young for a principal, maybe a little more than ten years older than me, but he was very nice. If a softie like him could make it at South Seattle High School, that left a lot of hope for me.

“Here we are.”

He stopped at the very end of the hallway, past where the wings branched off. The office was small, but it was at the corner so had two windows. A filing cabinet, a desk with a computer that was at least ten years old, and three chairs were all it contained. Not one plant or poster.

“Feel free to decorate it as you see fit. With, uh, within reason, of course.”

“Of course,” I agreed.

The bell rang as we stood there, signaling the start of the first period.

“Student records are in the cabinet.” He pointed. “Once you use your ID to link to the school board’s site, you’ll be able to see all the kids’ current schedules. We don’t usually print that out unless it’s needed, it changes so much. Ah, let’s see. What else? School policies and tax forms are in that folder on the desk. Let me know if you need anything.”

Having been nodding the entire time he talked, I forced myself to stop. “I will. Thanks again.”

“You’ll like it here. Yes. I’m sure you will.”

“Principal Stafford, if you—”

“You can call me Tim if you like. All the teachers use first names here.”

“Right. Tim. Thank you. I was just wondering, why did the last counselor leave?”

I hadn’t thought to bring it up in the interview, but the school replacing staff a month into the semester was odd.

“Oh, she was, well, she had a lot going on. Stress and all. Wanted to make a career change. But don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Principal Stafford smiled. Standing side-by-side, I noticed he was only a few inches taller than me, which is saying something considering my lack of height had always been a source of irritation for me. I wondered how he kept the kids in line with such a small stature. Likely he connected with them on a friendly level, if what I saw in the hallway was evidence.

With another nod, he went, leaving me alone in my new office. I hovered in the doorway, taking everything in. The last counselor had quit because of stress. In no universe did that sound like a good thing.

Actually, it was pretty freaking ominous.

Had it been the kids that got to her? My heart thudded faster, and I bit the inside of my bottom lip. Oh god. What was I getting myself into here? Maybe I should have stayed in kindergarten after all.

Was it too late to go back there? They’d already replaced me, yes, but there were other schools.

“Calm down,” I whispered out loud. “You’re freaking out.”

Slow breath after slow breath, I took a seat at my new station. The chair wasn’t the best, but it had padding. And the desk, one of those long ones that a couple of people usually work at, came to just the right level. It was an environment that could definitely be worked with.

Flipping through the files on my desk, I made a mental note of what I needed to take care of that day and of what could wait. In the desk’s top drawer were a few files, all of them pretty sparse. Whoever had held the position before me must not have been there for very long. Either that or they didn’t like compiling notes.

Opening the folder marked “Urgent,” I found a picture of a beautiful blond girl with sharp, green eyes. It was a school portrait, and even though the teenager was posed in the stereotypical way, head cocked, shoulder to the front, defiance lived in her eyes.

A firecracker, for sure.

And probably my first challenge.