Page 75 of All In Good Time
She just needed to get far away from Derek and avoid getting involved with anything that pulled her to him.
Stop trying.
Yeah. For him, she’d stop trying.
28
October 1985 | After
Ms. Roylance put a bowl of wrapped, hard candy on the small coffee table between them and sat down. “Third time you’ve been in here this week, Derek.”
Derek hid his discomfort behind as charming a smile as he could and leaned casually against the arm of his chair. “What can I say? I can’t get enough of you, Regina.” He smacked at the mint gum in his mouth and gave the guidance counselor a coy grin. “You don’t mind if I call you Regina, right?”
Having a new, young counselor helped a lot with getting away with the shit he’d been doing lately. All he had to do was throw in a few flirtatious comments, wink, and give her a smile. and she’d hang up the phone before she dialed his dad.
It’d been working like a charm.
She chuckled at his antics, shaking her head. “Call me whatever you want, but I still would like to talk about your behavior.”
Derek slouched back into his seat, oozing nonchalance. “They were all assholes. They had it coming.”
Ms. Roylance pursed her lips, and her forehead wrinkled in worry. “How are you doing?”
Derek shrugged and tried to ignore the turn of his stomach at the question. If he really thought about it, his answer would just lead to more inquiries aimed at prying into his deepest emotions. He’d managed to flirt his way out of a lot, but this time, Ms. Roylance seemed determined not to let him get away without a deeper dive into the reason he’d been forced into her office three times in a single week. “I’m doing just fine.”
She pointed down at something. “That doesn’t look too good.”
He followed her finger to the reopened scabs on his right knuckles. Normally, they would be well on their way to fully healed by now, but he’d delayed the process by sending his fist into another classmate’s face for getting a bit too courageous with his theories on Derek’s disappearance.
He opened and closed his fingers, stretching out the skin around the wounds to create a shooting sting up his nerves. “I barely noticed it,” he said, chuckling to ease the serious tone.
Ms. Roylance smiled, but it lacked the genuine sparkle she’d had the last two times. “I’m going to have to call your father, Derek.”
His smile slipped, and a heat rose at the top of his shirt collar. She might be able to see the cuts on his knuckles, but she couldn’t see the fading bruises over his back and ribs that hadn’t healed, even after two weeks. His fingernails dug into his palm, and the skin around his knuckle split slightly, making a bead of blood form over the thin scab.
Metal bloomed in his mouth—the only sign that he’d bitten his tongue as he clenched his jaw.
“I don’t see why it’s necessary to involve him.” He could barely hear his own voice, much less whether it gave away how uneasy he felt.
“This escalation in your behavior will need to be reported to him. One small tussle isn’t a big deal, but this is the third time this weekalone. Not counting last week.” She shook her head, at a loss. “If you’re not willing to talk to me, I have to assume this is something that needs to be communicated at home and not here.”
Her voice rattled in his ear, sending a jolt through his body. “No.” His hair brushed his cheek as he shook his head violently. Desperation melted the cool composure he’d worn like a mask since he’d come back. He didn’t want to beg. “No, please don’t.”
Ms. Roylance tilted her head, sympathetically, and sat on his words. Derek imagined she was used to kids begging for another chance in these situations. “Talking about these things can really help you figure out where this behavior is coming from. Do you have someone else you can talk to?”
“No.” He didn’t need to discover the root of his issues—he was well aware of where they came from.
“What about Rebecca Lewis?”
Derek wasn’t sure if his heart rate slowed or rapidly increased at the sound of her name, but the change in his composure was probably noticeable. Ms. Roylance tightened her brow. He hated that name as much as he craved to hear it—his body recoiled.
Putting on a steady face was useless now, but he was grasping at straws in front of his lone audience. “Why would I want to talk toher?” he asked, spitting the words.
Caught off guard, Ms. Roylance’s lips formed a surprised “O” and her brows rose. “I apologize, I was under the impression you two were in a relationship. It seemed like you liked her.” Her sentence trailed off. Derek could hear the hidden meaning behind it, like she was screaming into his ear:I can see right through you—and I’m probably not the only one.
Exposed. Vulnerable. Weak.
You’re a fucking pussy.
