Page 48 of Crew
I cocked my head to the side. "I titled the poem 'The Badger Named Gus'."
She paused, smiling faintly, and nodded. "Okay. That was funny. Round three." She wiggled her eyebrows at me. "I know you live for this, so don't even pretend you're tired."
I made a face. "Who's pretending? I'm happy I'm not fighting with an empty chair. My life's complete. I met Gus."
"No kidding. I met Gus too. I had no clue who he was. I just thought he was a regular fake plant like all the others."
"Nope." I shook my head. "Gus is a troubled fake plant. That's why you bought him. You were drawn to him. Gus pulled you in."
"Gus is a fucking manipulator then." She glanced at the door, but no one was out there. "I'm not supposed to curse, but it's Tuesday and Bren Monroe is here, so I'm taking advantage."
"I'm going to tell on you."
"And I'll tell them you're a fucking liar." She smiled. "And yeah, I'll say the F word because here's a secret: We're all adults. We all swear."
"And yet you don't want me to curse."
"Because here's another secret that most everyone knows except you: You're not an adult!"
I felt slapped by that one.
"What's going on here?" I gestured between us. "I thought we were joking--"
"You were being a smartass."
"I thought we had this camaraderie--"
"You were making fun of my professionalism."
"I thought we were getting past the surface walls and going to start braiding each other's hair."
"When I want a haircut, I'll ask you." Her eyes moved to my pocket. "I know where you keep your knife."
That one shut me up. I wasn't supposed to have it in my pocket. I always did, though.
She waited, but when I kept quiet, she tried again.
"Have we done the dance where you push me away, and I counter with my sarcastic wit because that's the only common ground I can get with you? Can we cut through the bullshit now?"
I rubbed at my neck. "I don't know. I'm still hurting from your comments."
She cursed softly, but she was grinning. "You and me. This isn't our first rodeo. You're a pro at evading adults and pissing them off so they go away. I get it. People leave you."
I looked away. I didn't want to hear about my mom, my dad, my brother, even Max. Or hell, Scratch too. None of them. My throat started to feel raw, the insides were peeling away.
"Your brother called me."
I almost jerked, but I caught myself. I held still in the chair. I showed no reaction.
"I'm only a few years older than your brother, so when I got a call from Channing Monroe, you can imagine how floored I was. My heart started pumping. My palms got sweaty. I mean, Channing Monroe." She raised her hands in the air, pantomiming a large crowd. "Even I'm not immune to him, but what struck me wasn't that he was calling. Parents, guardians, I get those calls all day long. They talk at me. They don't want to hear what I have to say, not the truth." She paused again. "But Channing Monroe, who created the Roussou crew system, called to really talk about his sister. He wasn't calling to talk at me, but to me. There's a difference, and I knew things must be bad if he was reaching out."
I thought I was looking outside. I couldn't tell. The window grew blurry.
"He told me you're not staying at home. You're not even going home most days. And he said he didn't know what to do, but he was worried. He didn't say anything about fighting, about skipping school, about swearing. I know. I know. You're crew royalty. It's almost expected of you, but I'm not here to bust your ass about those things. This is the beginning of year three for you and me. I want to help you, Bren. You can't keep me away any longer. I'm not going to allow it, and I don't want to waste your time. I have one year left to help you, so I'm breaking all the rules. Counselors aren't supposed to lead the tone. We're not supposed to argue with our clients, curse at them, curse with them, be sarcastic back--or fuck, be sarcastic first. I'm not supposed to corner you or make you feel attacked, but this is how you operate. Your crew is aptly named. You're a wolf. You snarl. You bite. You fight back. That's how you operate in life and with others. So fine. I'll meet you where you are, but here's one thing that's not going to happen: You will not make me give up on you. Got it? I am not going anywhere."
I checked the clock. That was blurry too, but I could make out that I'd been in here for thirty minutes already.
Why was everything so goddamn blurry?
