hazel-grace.
well. this certainly wasn't how hazel-grace had imagined her first counseling session to go. she'd imagined sitting behind her desk, all professional-like. she'd imagined being able to make someone's problems all better, like some sort of miracle worker(even though that was exactly what her teacher had told her not to expect).
she hadn't expected to be sitting on an unswept floor, discussing ketchup and nutella with a curly-haired boy who couldn't even introduce himself properly without leading her on a wild-goose chase of "pablo"s and stuff.
"so, harry, i'm guesing the reason you're in here is because of... um, gemma?"
"yeah."
"do you want to talk about it?"
"no."
she leaned back against the legs of the chair. "this might take a while, then."
he examined his cuticles, all traces of merriment leaving his face. he looked tired, hazel-grace thought sadly. tired, and so young, like he was a little boy or something. she felt her heart twist; this was one of the downsides to being a counselor. it was really tough to watch people hurting; you had to be emphatic enough to help, but if you were too emphatic, you bore so much of their pain that it was overwhelming.
at least, that was what other counselors had told her. and now she was feeling it first-hand.
"harry," she said finally. "it's okay to talk about it, you know."
"i've been talking about it for the past week, with a dozen different counselors," he moaned. "i'm tired."
you look tired, too.
hazel-grace sighed. "okay. what should we talk about, then? we've got an hour to kill."
he frowned. "i could run away. and then you pretend not to notice, and i tell my mom that i don't think you're the counselor for me. and then she promises not to send me to counseling anymore. and then she does it anyway. again and again."
biting down on her lip, she said, "don't run away, harry. running never helps."
"you should be ashamed of yourself, speaking against exercise."
she chuckled. he raised his eyebrows at her. "you think i'm funny?"
pausing, hazel-grace tried to see if it was a genuine question. "um... do you think i'm mocking you? because i'm totally not, okay, like-"
"no, that's not it." he shook his head, looking sheepish. "no one ever thinks i'm funny."
"you've got a dry sense of humor." she shrugged. "not everyone appreciates that. it's no big deal, really."
he thought a moment. "how do crazy people go through the forest?"
she stared at him. "um."
he winked at her. "they take the psycho path."
smirking at him, hazel-grace said, "yeah, you're not funny, harry."
"am too," he insisted.
"are not."
"how do you get holy water?"
"you're not funny."
"you boil the hell out of it."
"still not funny."
he leaned in a little closer. "you're smiling."
she attempted to keep a straight face, failed, and attempted it again. "am not. i'm not smiling, not one single bit."
