When I notice Mr. Garner’s enlarged eyes, I add, “No offense. But if you were seriously reading from that, he was about to lose his mind.”
He shuts the life-advisor script with a loud thud. “Well … I have the rest of the morning free. Why don’t you have a seat?”
“I only have a little over an hour before chemistry. And there’s no way I’m staying in this cell. Let’s get out of here.”
“Fresh air is a good idea.”
He stands, and I shake my head in disbelief. He’s wearing pale yellow shorts with blue canvas shoes and a pink-and-white-striped shirt. Arden can pull off the abstract. Mr. Garner cannot.
“Who dresses you? The Easter Bunny?”
He looks down, puzzled. “What?”
I sigh. “Let’s go.”
When we reach the foyer, I ask, “Can we go off campus? I kinda need a change of scenery.”
“Um … you don’t have much time.” He checks his wrist, which is not wearing a watch.
“C’mon, we have enough,” I encourage him, heading out the front doors.
Mr. Garner leads me to a Tesla in the parking lot.
I shake my head. “You’re kidding me.”
He opens his mouth to speak but releases a breath of air, unable to defend himself.
I slip into the passenger seat and inhale the new car scent. “When did you get this?”
“When I was in New York a couple weeks ago. A gift from my mother.”
“Guilt gift?” The engine purrs to life so quietly, it sounds like a computer booting up. I press the button to roll down the window.
“Most likely.”
“Take it she wasn’t around most of your childhood.” I lean back against the leather, getting comfortable.
“Why would you say that?” His brows furrow, like he’s either worried … or impressed that I figured him out.
“You said you went to school in Oaklawn. And I basically watched you grow up in the pictures at the Harrisons’.”
Mr. Garner turns right onto the main road without confirming my assumption. “Aren’t we supposed to be talking about you?”
“Tell me how to stop being so angry.” I lay it out there without preamble. We drive past tree after tree. “I feel like my insides are on fire. I’m about to combust and take down the entire forest with me.”
“That’s pretty powerful,” Mr. Garner notes. He directs the car down a side road.
“Tell me how to put it out. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
“It’s not that simple, Lana. You can’t just douse water on it and expect it to extinguish.” We jostle along a windy dirt road. “Hold on a second. I can’t drive and talk. There’s a spot down here.”
We pull to a stop at a spot that overlooks the lake, a clearing scattered with picnic tables. There’s a family seated at one of the tables, so Mr. Garner selects the one farthest from them. He takes a seat on the bench while I choose to sit on top of the table and lean back on my arms, facing the water.
“Okay. Let’s talk about your anger,” he coaxes gently. “But let me present it to you in a different way. It may provide insight into what’s really going on.” He pauses as if to collect his thoughts. I close my eyes and wait silently, absorbing the warm rays with my face tilted toward the sky. “Anger isn’t the end result. It’s a warning, letting you know that something’s wrong.”
I cock my head, my heart skipping a beat. His words strike a nerve.
“Think of it as a red flag. Anger isn’t the problem. It’s letting you know there is one. Acknowledge that you’re angry but then look for the true emotion that’s fueling it.”
“So … I’m not really angry? I’m just … what? Sad?” I question, not sure I’m willing to start digging.
“Maybe,” Mr. Garner responds quietly. “You tell me.” He takes in a contemplative breath. “Have you … given yourself permission to grieve for your grandmother? She died in a very sudden—”
I scoot off the picnic table before he can finish his sentence. “I think we should go. I don’t want to be late for class.”
“Lana,” Mr. Garner beckons calmly. “Avoiding your grief, or whatever else you’re denying, is the match to that fire inside of you. If you want to stop being angry, you have to look at who or what’s holding the flame.”
I grind my teeth, and tears flood my eyes. I hate how emotional I’ve been lately. It’s like something broke and needs to be sealed up tight again. I cross my arms and walk to the edge