liberty to go into details, but Bodhi didn’t leave Keaton with the best reputation, and we weren’t exactly happy to see him back in Monte Vista.”
“But that doesn’t mean anything about Matt. Maybe they just surf together or something?”
Mr. Robins took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Devon, we’ve got to watch out for peer sympathy getting in the way of you making informed decisions. That’s an inherit blind spot with this program.”
“But I’m not.…” Devon stopped herself. Getting too defensive right now would only confirm Mr. Robins’ theory. “I understand the concern. It’s just that I feel like Matt is finally starting to trust me, and to open up, and to make some progress in working through his grief. I’d really hate to cut that off now. You mentioned in your training how important it was so establish a good rapport with your subject. Can I try one more session with Matt? See if I can help with this attendance thing?”
Mr. Robins glanced at his watch. He pulled a handful of pages from the back of his notebook. “Fine. But if we see any other red flag behavior from him, I’ll be meeting with Matt personally.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Now, if we could take a minute to review your notes.” He stole a glance at the clock on the wall behind Devon. What’s he waiting for? “Everything looks good. You say Matt presented with anger and disbelief about Jason’s suicide, all perfectly normal.” He flipped to the next page. “Isla with feelings of guilt, and Cleo ashamed of her behavior in Monte Vista. Everything sounds good.” He scrunched his glasses up his nose again. “On paper.”
She swallowed, her heart picking up a beat. “Great. Glad you think so.”
“But there’s more than what you’re telling me, isn’t there?”
“What?” Play dumb. Play dumb. Devon tried to force herself not to blush. He knows you’re lying.
“Matt’s absences indicate that he’s going through more than anger and disbelief. And I think you know what it is.” He let the words hang in the air while Devon’s insides squirmed.
“Really, I’m not sure—”
“Devon, if you and Matt are dating, I need to know about that,” he interrupted. “I realize counseling can often bring people closer together, so if you two have.…” He waited for her to fill in the rest. Ha! Devon: 1; Mr. Robins: 0! He has no idea.
“Mr. Robins, that’s not what’s happening. Matt and I, we really don’t see each other outside of our sessions.”
There was a knock on the door. Headmaster Wyler walked into the room without waiting for an answer. “This still a good time?” he asked.
Mr. Robins pulled a chair for the Headmaster. “Yes, glad you could make it.”
What is he doing here? In his ever-present khakis and sweater vest and perfectly cropped salt-and-pepper hair, Devon wondered if Wyler looked the same as a Keaton student years ago. She pictured a seventeen-year-old version: soccer legend, bio whiz, and sweater vest collector. And now living back at the school he attended three decades ago. I’ll bet the outside world wasn’t all that kind to the Sweater Vest King.
“Devon, I’m glad I didn’t miss you,” he said, scooting his chair around to face her.
She nodded and half-stood up from her chair. “Headmaster Wyler. Good morning.”
“Have a seat, please.”
Devon realized both men were now staring at her. This wasn’t an impromptu interruption, was it? They had planned this, whatever this was. She braced herself.
“Devon, I wanted to be here along with Mr. Robins to thank you for your hard work serving our student body. Your commitment to this program has not gone unnoticed.”
She breathed a little easier. Okay, that’s not bad news. “Thanks. It’s been a good experience so far.”
“Because this program is the first of its kind for Keaton, or for California for that matter, it’s important that we can really quantify our results. After all, if this proves successful for our students, hopefully the state will allow more programs like this in other schools. What this could do for bullying, depression, substance abuse—the possibilities are really inspiring.” Headmaster Wyler used his hands in a practiced, political way. He must rehearse in front of a mirror, Devon thought. “Which is why we’re installing a camera in your ‘office.’ ”
Putting her “office” in finger quotes was immediately annoying, a paper-cut kind of annoying. But the video camera was a nearly-slicing-a-finger-off beyond annoying. It enraged her. Everything Devon had promised Matt, Isla, and Cleo about protecting their secrets, about creating