36. P̶ O̶ W̶ E̶ R̶ :̶ D̶r̶e̶a̶m̶s̶ | Blacksdale

CHAPTER III

Jack peeked into the room tentatively.

It was a little after nine in the morning, meaning he was late for his first counseling session. He knew the last counselor had been really touchy about punctuality, but he hoped the new one wouldn't mind.

Currently, she was seated at her desk, hands folded neatly before her. She appeared to just be staring blankly at the wall at the other end of the office, not moving or even blinking. Just... smiling.

It was unnerving, to say the least.

Jack swallowed hard and pushed open the door fully. "Um... M-Ms. Vadala?" he said in a tentative tone. "I'm here for my first session."

The counselor turned sharply, fixing her magnified eyes on the jackal. "Oh! Good morning, Jackson," she greeted Jack warmly as the blankness in her stare gave way to cordiality. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good. Well, as good as I can be, anyways. Heh." Jack shuffled into the office and paused, eyeing the beanbag chair in front of the desk.

"You don't mind beanbags, do you?" the counselor asked with a hopeful smile.

"N-No! Not at all!" Jack laughed, somewhat awkwardly, and sat down, sinking into the beanbag chair. "It's really comfortable. And I love what you did with the office." He looked around, taking note of the small statue on the desk and the poster on the wall. "Very humble."

"Thank you!" The counselor laughed and added, "Zech told me I could decorate however I wanted, but I'm kind of a minimalist."

"Yeah, I can tell. Heh."

Silence fell in the office as the counselor stared at Jack, a strange look in her eyes. Jack shifted uncomfortably, trying not to avoid her gaze and make things even more awkward.

Then the counselor said, "What would you like to talk about today, Jackson?"

Jack cleared his throat. "Uh... not much, really. I just... I'm still having a hard time coping with my—my issues."

"Your curse?"

Jack jerked backward slightly, surprised. "You—you know about that?" he stammered.

The counselor nodded slowly. "Zech told me about it," she informed the jackal. "He wanted me to be prepared to talk about it beforehand." She leaned forward on the desk. "It's hard, isn't it? Having to look over your shoulder everywhere you go, worried that, at any given moment, the whole world could turn on you?"

Jack flinched—not only at the words, but at the tone with which they were spoken. There was a dark, biting bitterness lacing the counselor's voice... one that told of empathy rather than sympathy. "I... I mean... yeah," Jack mumbled after a moment. "And it's not just that. I'm afraid that—"

"That your friends will end up being hurt by it," Ms. Vadala went on for him. "Or worse—that they'll turn their backs on you because of it."

A chill ran down Jack's spine. He let out a nervous laugh and tried to joke, "Are you sure you're a counselor? You seem more like a... a psychic."

The counselor grinned.

It was a grin that appeared to be an attempt at friendliness, at camaraderie—but ended up looking extremely forced, almost strained, and stretched the skin on Ms. Vadala's face unnaturally.

"I'm a woman of many talents," she told Jack in an odd, whispery voice. "You might call me a... 'jack of all trades'."

Jack gulped. "You know, I—I actually have to go," he stuttered, rising from the chair and inching toward the door. "Jackie's—I mean, the theatre group—uh, we sometimes hang out early, and—"