Page 55 of Told You So
I burst with laughter. “Really?”
“Okay, that’s enough,” my mom chides. “Leave the poor girl alone.”
“Isn’t it bad enough I’m going to gain fifteen pounds hanging out with you?” she holds up what’s left of her cookie.
“He’s still eating junk food, I take it.” My mom purses her lips, as if she didn’t already know.
“Only when I don’t have leftovers,” I tell her. “It could be worse.”
Bethany smiles. “According to Nick, cheeseburgers and BLTs have all the necessary food groups, so they’re good for you.”
My mom wipes a bit of chocolate off her thumb and shakes her head. “Does he?”
“Well, that’s our cue, Jesse.” I shove the rest of my cookie in my mouth. “Let’s go upstairs and let the ladies study. I’ll show you my comic book collection, among other things.” I like the intrigue in his eyes. “Holler if you need anything, ladies.” I nudge Jesse. “Time to show you thebachelor pad.”
Twenty-Seven
Bethany
“Just remember, Bethany, you know this stuff.” Mrs. Turner closes the test book. “How long have you been at this, three years?”
“Yeah, of specific study, anyway. Though it seems like a lifetime.”
Mrs. Turner smiles at me and tilts her head. “You’re very passionate about this,” she says, as if it’s only just occurring to her. “Do you mind if I ask what it is that draws you to psychology?” She sighs and leans back in her chair. “For me, it started out with a handsome professor who was offering a beginner’s course.” She smiles and removes her reading glasses. “I guess I decided I liked a lot more than his smile. I changed my major and never looked back.”
“Well,” I start. “When I was a freshman, I took a Psychology 101 course and found it fascinating. More so than interior design. I knew I couldn’t quit design, my parents would’ve freaked, so I decided to double major.” I drop my pencil and sit back in the cushy, dining room chair. “It was because of Jesse, too” I admit. “Ever since he was born, I’ve wanted to understand the mind and how it works.” I stare down at the thick textbooks that have weighed me down over the past four semesters. “I want to understand and help families that struggle with issues they don’t understand. I don’t want other kids with social anxieties and learning disabilities to struggle the way I watch Jesse and my parents struggle.”
Mrs. Turner’s gaze is long and thoughtful. “Well, I think it’s a field that really suits you, even if it’s difficult. Passion is all you need to succeed, really. And that’s not something you’re lacking. Nick on the other hand...Well, let’s just say I think he’s finally starting to question what he’s passionate about, which makes me happy.”
Mrs. Turner stares out the window, into the backyard, and I don’t know if she’s thinking about Nick or maybe her own passions in life. Maybe even her disappointments and regrets.
“Well, thank you for your help,” I tell her. “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me. I feel like I’ve retained more in the past few hours than I would have with another week studying on my own.”
“It was my pleasure. You’ve got Cognitive down, you just need to take more time to think through the syntax of it all. I know it gets confusing, especially if you overthink a question, but keep in mind, as complex as some of these questions are, they will always be straight forward. There are no trick questions on this test.” She smiles at me, and her kindness seems to seep into me. “You’re going to do great. You should have no problem getting a 600 on this. Just stay out of your own head, if you can.” She winks at me, and I see where Nick gets his charm from.
I nod, grateful that she’s sitting across from me, eyes smiling with pride and encouragement.
“There’s no need to rush either,” she adds.
“I hate to ask this, since you’ve already helped me so much,” I rush to say before I change my mind. “But...do you mind running through this with me again next week, before the exam?” I stand up to collect my things.
Mrs. Turner’s head bobs with an enthusiastic nod. “Yes! Yes, I’d love to. You let me know when, and I’ll make sure we have plenty of snacks. We’ll run through it, like it’s the real thing.”
Uncertain how to show my gratitude, I lean down and wrap my arms around her.
“Oh,” she chirps and hugs me back, more tightly than I expect. She rubs my back soothingly, the way mothers do, and she’s soft and warm, and it almost brings tears to my eyes. My mom would never have the time to sit down and study with me. My dad wouldn’t even consider it.
Remembering myself, I pull away. I straighten with a smile, and stack my books and notecards on the table. “I wonder what the boys are doing upstairs.”
“Getting into trouble, I imagine,” Mrs. Turner says, and when I’m about to crumple up my doodle paper, she reaches for it. “I don’t mean to pry, sweetie,” she says hesitantly, and my shoulders tense. Her expression is curious and tentative. “But, have you ever been tested for dyslexia?”
Shaking my head, I glance between her and my doodle paper, not getting the connection. “No. I’ve never considered it.”
“You know the material we went over, but it’s connecting the ideas that you struggle with,” she muses. “It would make sense why some of these ideas get a bit mixed up in your mind. You speak about it all so clearly, but the process...” She points to my doodle page. “You doodle when you’re thinking.”
“Yeah, it’s just a habit.”
Mrs. Turner smiles. “Good, you’re very creative.” She rises from her chair. “I was just thinking, it might be good to know, moving forward. Perhaps learn a few tricks to help you with school. There’s no sense in struggling more than you need to.”
