Callie Reeves is a perfectionist. She has control over everything from her friends to her grades, the cheerleading squad she captains and anyone inbetween - even when it comes to dating.
After creating a list of rules to keep her no-strings attache...
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"Part of this mandatory counseling involves talking to make progress," Mrs. Bolton deadpans, close to giving up as the half-hour comes to an end. "Even if it's as simple as telling me about the confrontation in the cafeteria yesterday."
I'm not completely unaware of how these appointments go. When my parents got divorced dad brought me along to one of his sessions that I realized once we were in the office that he wanted me to open up about my feelings on what was happening. Safe to say I left immediately.
If I could leave this room without it affecting the ground I walk on, I would.
"Confrontation? I wonder how you heard about that." I fake shock.
"Your teammates are concerned."
Surely she can't believe that. Mrs. Bolton looks young enough to still remember high school and all its terrifying experiences. I'm not sure where she would have been placed on the social hierarchy but I doubt she was anywhere near the top.
I tsk in a condescending tone. "It's not a concern that caused them to open their mouths."
"What do you believe caused it then?" She asks, attempting to get me to reflect.
"I'm assuming you know how the social hierarchy works?" I question, clasping my hands on my knees and keeping a humorless tone. She gives a slight incline of her chin to continue. "Then you can theorize how I'm sitting here."
"I want you to tell me yourself."
"Power. Manipulation. Envy. Anger. Revenge. Boredom. It depends on the person," I purse my lips and glance to the clock. "I'm not a well-liked person because I worked my way to the top and made enemies on the way - if you want a list of everyone I've offended in some way and why we'll be here all day."
"So you're telling me that you've willingly hurt others?" Mrs. Bolton says with slight disapproval in her voice.
"Survival of the fittest and I refuse to be the prey. It's as simple as that," I grab my bag from the seat beside me, standing up while nodding to the clock. "Time's up."
"Wait, Callie . . . I want you to write down or think of three things you hate for next week." She leans back in her chair and deep exhales.
"And if I don't?" I challenge her.
She keeps a cool and collected exterior, seeming unrattled by what I just said. Then again if she lashed out, it wouldn't be very professional of her and I would use it against her to get out of this ridiculous sessions.
"The longer you refuse to co-operate the more sessions you will have," Mrs. Bolton moves her notebook to her desk, standing up and passing me to open the door. "And I'm assuming this isn't you being here willingly."
I pause for a moment and stop in the door frame. "Pools. Pineapple. People."
"See you next week." She gives a tight-lipped smile.
