The Guidance Counselor - Chapter II (Patreon)

Mr. Gary died of a heart attack – simple as that. Well, not really simple. There was a whole complicated history with a heart murmur and cholesterol, as I later found out through the rumor mill. I always knew he wasn’t in the greatest of shapes based on how he looked, but I never fully realized how bad it was. Then again, he was seventy-one years old so that also played a big role in it. The day after he died, I knew something was up because there was a shift in the atmosphere during homeroom, a lot of murmurs and concerned looks.

Tom was the one whotold me what had happened, and I genuinely took a hit from the shock.

As crazy as it sounds, I was just starting to like the guy. It dawned on me that Mr. Gary never knew the truth behind my attitude and the secret behind our sessions. Not like I would have ever told him but still. I would have preferred if he had died years later having long forgotten about me, mixing me up with one of the many other students he spoke to on a monthly basis.

There was about a month where I didn’t have any counseling because they were still figuring out what to do. Some young guy fresh out of grad school ended up replacing him. The school had gone to work as quickly as possible to hire someone new. His name was Mr. Perry. I caught a glimpse of him in the hallway because I didn’t recognize his face. Young guy, fit, generic looking.

My first reaction was, of course, Damn. Another man.

But who knew? Maybe he would be more receptive, but the thought of even talking about my sexual interests to another man, whatever age they may be, made me cringe hard.

My life changed one morning at homeroom. It was on October11th, 2007 to be precise. I never wanted to forget it so I wrote it down in my notebook the day it happened.

Ms. Nicole Johnson herself, in the flesh, stepped into my homeroom. Seconds before she entered, the room had been a rowdy mess of boys hooting and hollering, talking about upcoming Halloween parties where they’d get smashed. Tom partook in that conversation, of course. By then we had gotten used to each other, for better or for worse. He got annoyed whenever I expressed distaste for drinking culture and “hitting on the girls”, while I expressed distaste for his general stupidity. Sometimes we’d tell each other to fuck off. We had developed a friendly mutual animosity by the time we became seniors.

But the second Ms. Johnson entered, the room noticeably fell silent. A few hushed looks. A couple red faces. Starry eyes. Dumbfounded looks. Ms. Johnson NEVER interrupted homeroom for any reason whatsoever. It was too early in the morning for any sessions. But there she was, wearing her signature tight gray pantsuit with a pink undershirt.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt, Mr. Leland.”

Our homeroom teacher Mr. Leland was half-asleep. None of the teachers ever cared about homeroom. He snorted a little and said, “Oh, what? No. Not at all.”

“I need to borrow Mr. Gallagher for one moment. Just a moment.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I heard her words clear as crystal. That was my last name. For sure. No other Gallagher in the class. I still didn’t motion to get up, because I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. Not even Tom said anything. We both stared blankly at her. When I didn’t respond, Mr. Leland cleared his throat and haphazardly searched the room for me shouting, “Jason? You in here?”

A pause.

Mr. Leland narrowed his eyes at me. He barked, “Jason. Are you paying attention?”

“What? Yeah! Sorry.”

Mr. Leland chuckled in disbelief. “Kids these days. Zone out too much.”

Ms. Johnson ignored him and had me step out into the hallway with her. I expected to hear the general cacophony of homeroom resume once we were out of earshot; I didn’t. I could feel everyone still staring at me behind my back wondering why in hell I got to talk to Ms. Johnson in private. I had all the giddiness of a first date. Sweaty palms, beating heart, suspicious bulge in my pants.

I realized for the first time that I was about three feet taller than her. I felt this magnetism as I stood close to her. She was pretty young. Maybe fresh out of college or grad school? They say each new generation looks a bit older than the last. Someone could have mistaken us for girlfriend and boyfriend. She looked cute looking up at me with a demeanor of authority.

“Hello, Mr. Gallagher.”

Oof. The way she said my name so professional like that. Focus, Jason. Focus!

“We’re making some last-minute changes since Mr. Gary’s untimely death.”

“C-changes?”

“Yes. We don’t want to pile up too much work for the new guidance counselor. We reworked some students. We figured it’d be best if I take you on as your guidance counselor from now on, being that Mr. Perry would have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I felt weightless. I could float to the sky in a dull sleep.

“Does Thursdays during your free period sound good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Oh, and we’re going to meet bimonthly now. Since you are a senior now, we want to pay extra attention to your future.” She smiled warmly. “See you in a couple hours.”

I gawked. “A couple hours?”

She went blank for a second. “Yes. It’s Thursday.”

Oh shit.

“Have a good day.”

She left me there in the hallway not knowing how such a small decision would change everything.

I couldn’t believe it – I was going to see her TWICE a month. TWICE a fucking month. And not only that, but our first meeting was that very same day. I needed to lie down. I needed like a Xanax or something.

When I returned to my desk, Tom asked me what had happened. When I told him, he slapped both hands on my shoulders and yelled, “’ATTA BOY, JASON! There we go, man! I’m so excited for you!”

For once, I wasn’t annoyed by him.

As my day progressed leading up to my free period at 1:45 PM, I grew more nervous. What if she wasn’t as awesome as I thought she was? What if she thought I was weird? What if I actually don’t like her? Little did I know, boys thought this all the time before a first date. I would have never known having been the sore loser I was.

I needed to freshen up. I excused myself to the bathroom in each class I was in to make sure my hair looked good. Combed. Neat. No. Maybe too neat? Ah, fuck. Maybe she liked boys who were a little rougher around the edges, you know? I could loosen my tie and unbutton the top button of my shirt to give off that “devil-may-care” “badditude”.

But my breath. Oh fuck, my breath stank.

I had to hunt down Tom before my session to ask him for some Tic-Tacs. I needed something to freshen my breath. He immediately knew why I asked and laughed so loud the entire hallway noticed us. I turned beet red.

“Jason, my man. You’re finally going up in the world.”

He graciously didn’t pester me any further and handed me a whole box. Before heading to his next class, he patted my shoulder once again and said, “Don’t be a fucking weirdo, okay? I know that’s a hard ask for you.”

“Shut up,” I murmured.

Five minutes before our appointment, I loitered in the hallway where her office was. It was tucked away in a farcorner of the school across from the chapel. Anyone was free during the day to go into the chapel and pray. It was the quietest corner of the school, and that calmed me down. The windows overlooked Hyson Park across the school.

Ms. Johnson’s office had a window. I poked my head ever so slightly to take a peek. Nobody was inside.

And then I heard it.

Tack, tack, tack.

Right around the corner of the hallway.

The closer it came, the more nervous I got. The tacking of her heels somehow became more ominous, like the tolling of bells signifying my impending doom.

I dashed into the chapel to hide.

I hid behind the door. I heard her round the corner, open her door, and go in.

My heart rapped against my chest. I needed to calm down. I faced the altar of the chapel and considered praying for divine intervention. A human-sized crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar. They kept the lights dim there, which calmed me down at the seconds ticked by.

“Oh God,” I breathed. “Please don’t let me fuck this up.”

I turned around before leaving. “Sorry for saying fuck.”

This became more terrifying than any test I ever took. Greater than the fucking SATs. They felt nothing compared to entering the office of the one woman I had the biggest crush on for the longest time.

I finally opened the door and went in.