I’ve got first period with her, and she’s fallen asleep in class almost every day this week, if she shows up at all.”
“Let’s try to get back to the subject at hand. Do we‡ want to talk about why you stole that nail polish in Monte Vista? I’m not sure we got to that last week.”
“I love all this ‘we’ talk, when it’s not your soul that’s being poked and prodded.”
“Is it possible that stealing was about getting attention? Or maybe just for the thrill of it?”
Cleo looked out the small window. “Not sure. You know the first time I stole something it was in France. When I was growing up there with my mom, we were in Lyon. I remember she took me to this little soap shop. It was, like, quintessential French. Everything was handmade and wrapped in wax paper. Petites paquettes my mom called them. Little packages. My mom wasn’t paying attention but I knew I just had to have one of them. She was talking to the clerk and no one suspected me, so I just grabbed one and put it in my pocket. I still remember it, pink hand soap in the shape of a rose with a cream colored ribbon around the wax paper.” Cleo now looked back to Devon, challenging her. “So, you tell me, Counselor: attention or thrill?”
Devon dropped her notebook on the floor next to her chair and folded her hands in her lap. “That’s a very interesting story. I didn’t know you grew up in France.”
Cleo tossed her head back and laughed. “Mmmm.” She nodded yes.
“Because,” Devon continued, “I thought you said last week that you grew up in San Francisco going to the same golf club as the Hutchins family. Maybe I’m confused.”
Cleo’s eyes darted back to Devon. “No, that wasn’t what I said. I said my parents belonged to the club, but we never went.”
“Oh, but you weren’t there with the Hutchins? Growing up with them?”
“No, I, we.…”
“Why do you feel you have to lie to me?” Devon kept her eyes glued to Cleo’s face, not letting her off the hook.
“I wasn’t lying. Okay, maybe I didn’t grow up in France. But I spent time there.” She sounded pissed off.
“That’s the thing about lying. I mean, no one’s perfect, we all do it from time to time. But it makes it hard to trust someone. If this is going to work at all, we have to trust each other.”
“Whatever. That’s like assuming that we’re doing real therapy in here, which, let’s be honest, we’re not,” Cleo said.
Devon ignored the sting. “But why not try to make it work? You were let off the hook for shoplifting in Monte Vista, and the only condition is that you complete five sessions with me.”
“So?”
“So, it’s kind of a waste of both of our time for you to sit here and lie to me for an hour. What if we end a little early today and next week, and for the two sessions after that, you come back with the truth?”
Cleo chewed on the side of her lip. “And what I say in here doesn’t get out?”
“Not to anyone,” Devon confirmed.
“Fine. I’ll try.” Cleo stood up with a sigh. “You know, I didn’t know you could be such a ballbuster.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really not trying to be a bitch here. But—”
“No, that’s a compliment. You kind of needed to grow a backbone. Here.” Cleo pulled Devon’s Mont Blanc pen from the inside of her boot and tossed it to Devon. “Sorry about that.”
Devon turned the silver pen over in her hand. It looked unharmed, plus Cleo offered the pen as opposed to making Devon ask for it. That was progress, right?
“Hey, I might have a favor to ask you.” Cleo turned, her back leaning against the door, waiting. “If you wanted to make it up to me, that is.”
“Depends. What is it?” Cleo asked.
Devon paused for a split second. She had to ask someone, and preferably someone she wasn’t that close to. Devon pulled the folded green piece of Keaton paper from her notebook. Her Oxy order for Matt. “Would you give this to Matt for me? It’s not for me, I swear. I just need to research something.”
She tentatively held the paper out. Cleo studied Devon, debating this new facet of their relationship. She took the paper and opened it.
“No, you don’t have to—” Devon tried to stop Cleo from reading, but it was too late.