Chapter 1
Elsie
Pale afternoon sunlight filtered in through the only window in my small office. It picked up specks of dust that glittered in the air between me and the tweenager glaring at me from across the desk.
“What would you like to talk about on this fine Monday, Claire?” I asked as I sat back on my threadbare, standard-issued chair.
Her stringy, dirty-blonde hair shifted when she lifted one of her shoulders to shrug. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t even know you.”
“We met last week,” I said, the corners of my mouth lifting to give her a smile. “I’m Elsie, remember? The new temporary guidance counselor while Mrs. Carr is on maternity leave.”
Claire rolled her hazel eyes at me. “I know who you are. I just don’t know you.”
“Okay, what would you like to know?” Placing my arms on the plastic armrests on either side of me, I kept my gaze on her. “You can ask me anything. I want you to feel comfortable with me, and to do that, you and I need to build up some trust.”
For a beat, she just stared at me. Since her eyes weren’t narrow anymore, I took it as something of a win. I’d known when I’d taken on this job that I was going to be met with some resistance from the grade-schoolers who regularly saw Elena Carr.
“You don’t look very old,” Claire said eventually, studying me with her red-rimmed eyes.
It was obvious she’d been crying. Her lids were puffy and her eyes still had that glassy sheen to them.
She was putting up a good front, though. At first glance, I’d pegged her as being a little ball of anger, but by now, I’d picked up on the small tells that betrayed her.
Claire wasn’t angry. She was sad. It was right there in the downturn of her mouth, the slump of her narrow shoulders, and the lack of any kind of spark in her eyes.
I’d met with her for the first time about a week ago, and it was remarkable to see how much more defeated she seemed after only a few days. I had to get through to her today, even if it was only a small breakthrough.
“I don’t look very old because I’m not,” I said. “I’m twenty-eight but that’s not much younger than Mrs. Carr.”
Claire didn’t react for a long second as her eyes searched mine. When she finally replied, her voice was soft. “Do you know how she is? Mrs. Carr?”
A smile spread on my lips. “She’s doing so well. The baby was born a couple days ago and they’re adjusting at home.”
She returned my smile—reluctantly—but it was still something. “That’s good. I’m happy for her.”
“So am I.” Shifting in my seat, I folded my hands in my lap and decided to wait her out.
It was becoming clear that somewhere deep inside, Claire was a sweet girl. She obviously cared about Elena and the baby, and I got the feeling that she did want to speak to me. She just needed to figure out how.
Her eyes dropped to the pockmarked wooden desk between us before flitting to the bright yellow flowers growing in the pot in the corner. The office might not be mine for good, but I figured I’d add some personal touches in the time I was here.
Aside from the flowers, I also had a couple of framed pictures on my desk, a small oil painting on the wall, and a mess of my own stationery surrounding me. Brightly colored pens and sticky notes, a spiral notebook, and a handful of highlighters lay within easy reach. My happy place.
Claire took it all in before bringing her eyes back to mine. “Twenty-eight is old enough to have finished school, right?”
“Yes.” I smiled as I motioned to the framed certificates on the floor beneath the stand that held the plant. “I haven’t put those up yet, but I have a Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree in Psychology. I’m working on my Doctorate at the moment.”
Claire’s eyes widened before she lifted herself out of her chair and walked to where the certificates lay. She bent over to swipe them up off the floor and carried them back to the desk while she examined them.
When she set them down, it was gently and with a certain kind of reverence I hadn’t seen in many twelve-year-olds. “I want to study psychology one day.”
“Yeah? That’s great. You should do it.” A tingle of anticipation ran through me. I was getting through to her. I felt it. Waiting her out was working. I just needed to be patient.
Claire fell silent again as she fidgeted with her hands in her lap, her eyes glued to my certificates. After a minute, I was just starting to wonder if she needed a small nudge when she finally started speaking.
“I don’t have a Dad,” she said suddenly. Her chin dropped and a tremble moved her shoulders. “My mother is raising me by herself. She’s all I have, but she hasn’t been around much lately. I guess I’m just… lonely and worried about her.”
My head tilted, but I kept my expression neutral. “Where has she been?”
“At work.” Claire’s lips parted on a deep sigh, and when she looked up, I saw tears welling up in her eyes. “She had to pick up extra shifts, and now it’s like she’s gone all the time.”
“That’s why you’re having trouble at school?” I asked, my voice soft.
Empathy and understanding radiated through me, warming me up on the inside and bringing with it the urge to hug this poor girl.
She nodded and bit her lip. “Yeah. Mom used to help me with my homework and stuff, but now she doesn’t have time. All the other girls…” Her voice got strangled and she trailed off, taking a few deep gulps of air before she regained her composure. “Everyone else is starting to wear makeup. Their hair looks nice.”
She chewed on her lip and she closed her eyes when a tear escaped. “There’s all this girly stuff happening and I don’t know what to do.”
My heart burned for her. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I stood up and walked around my desk to take the chair beside hers. Offering her my hands, I squeezed her much smaller ones and waited for her to meet my eyes.
“Being a girl is never easy, but it’s really hard being twelve. There are so many changes happening with your body and they can be really scary and confusing.”
She nodded but withdrew her hands and clasped them in her lap. “I just don’t understand why my Mom can’t be around anymore. I need her.”
“I know,” I said. “But if she’s working more, it’s because she’s trying to make a better life for you. Being a single mother is tough. Sometimes, they have to sacrifice time they’d rather spend with their kids so they can make ends meet.”
“You don’t understand,” she burst out, her little hands balling into fists and her spine shooting straight. “No one does. I’m all alone now.”
Breathing in through my nose, I watched as she sucked air into her lungs and glared daggers at me. Once she’d calmed down a little and didn’t look like she was about to spit a ball of fire at me anymore, I shook my head.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Claire. I do understand. Perhaps a lot better than you might think.” I reached for one of the photos on my desk and turned it around, running my finger fondly along the face of the woman on it before showing it to Claire. “This is my mother. She raised me by herself, so I do know what you’re going through.”