Page 82 of Counter Bet

Ben.

“I’m happy about this, Ben.” Mrs. Ackland beams at me behind her black-rimmed glasses. It’s hard to say what possessed me to come to see the guidance counselor for advice, but alas, here I am.

“I have to say, young man, I never thought I would see the day you set foot in my office. I’ve chased you long enough.”

I cringe. She’s not lying. I always bolt when she tries to chase me down in the hallways, but one thing can be said for Mrs. Ackland—she doesn’t give up on her students.

I fidget on the edge of my seat, bouncing my leg restlessly.

She notices and smiles softly. “Let’s have a look at your grades, shall we?” She adjusts the glasses on her nose and taps away on the laptop in front of her. “Have you given any thought to what subjects you might want to study at college?”

I lean my elbow on the armrest and rub my lips. “Honestly? No. To tell you the truth, I just want to get out of here. Make something of myself. I’m not picky, as long as it gives me a chance at a better future.”

She looks up from her screen and studies me for a moment before smiling that big smile of hers that shows too many teeth. “I’m not going to ask what’s happened lately to bring about this change in you, Ben, but I like it. Now let’s see what we’re working with.”

I sit in silence, listening to the obnoxiously loud clock on the wall above the door.

She hums thoughtfully, then picks up her coffee cup and takes a large gulp. The front reads in large bold letters,‘I became a school counselor because your life is worth my time.’

I roll my eyes before I can stop myself.

She points at it. Her smile is too big for her face to be proportionate. “What, don’t you like it?” She puts the cup back down, still beaming. “Do you know what I like about you, Ben? I like that you want everyone to think you don’t care. The bright green hair. The tattoos, piercings, and the black clothing with God only knows how many holes and rips. You wear it as a shield. It screams, “Stay the fuck away!”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

She smiles knowingly. “But you do care, Ben. In fact, I would venture as far as to say you care more than you would ever admit even to yourself.”

“Yeah? What makes you come to that conclusion?”

She takes another sip of her coffee, then looks at me over the bridge of her glasses. I wait, uneasy and intrigued by her scrutiny.

“Well,” she starts, placing her mug back on the desk, twisting it until the writing faces me. “Your grades tell me as much, Ben. You want the world to think you’re trouble, so you don’t have to live up to anyone’s expectations because then you can’t disappoint others. And you won’t run the risk of being made to feel like a failure if things fall through. That way, you can’t even disappoint yourself. But one look at your grades”—she looks at me pointedly— “and I know you care more than a lot of the students at this school. So, I’m asking you, are you ready to believe in yourself?”

I stare at her. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your GPA, Ben. You’ll easily qualify for a scholarship if you keep this up. It’s your shot at a better future, as you so adequately put it. And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

She winks and removes her glasses to rub her left eye, flashing another toothy smile before placing them back on. “If you let me help you with this, I promise I won’t breathe a word of it to your friends. We wouldn’t want to ruin your street cred.”

I lean back in my chair. My mind is working overtime. I’ve always done well in class. I never neglect my schoolwork despite what other people think. But I didn’t realize my effort was enough to amount to a scholarship. I never had anyone believe in me, which made it impossible to believe in myself.

Wow…this is precisely the kind of opportunity I need to finally escape this town because my parents certainly can’t afford to pay for college.

I lean forward in my seat and look Mrs. Ackland in the eyes. “Thank you!”

She smiles that big smile of hers and picks up the mug, pointing to it. “Your life is worth my time, Ben. Now, let’s get this process started, shall we?”

* * *

“What the fuck is up with that?” Josh growls when we walk past the football field on our way to the library.

“What’s up with what?” I ask, scanning the field.

He points. “Over there!”

Princess and her friends sunbathe on the grass while they watch the boys’ football practice. Jack, who should be out there doing ball pushups with his peers, crouches in front of Em. He brushes her hair away from her face.

I suck on my teeth as a twinge of annoyance flares up inside of me.

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