flat chest was no longer a problem by the time she was a sophomore. She now lived in the Keaton sweats she used to loathe, and kept her hair in a messy ponytail most of the time. It was as if someone had thrown her chipper freshman RA, June, the month, into a washing machine—and Devon was what came out, her smile left behind long ago in the spin cycle.
“Thanks,” she said on autopilot.
“I’ll send Matt over to you first thing tomorrow,” Mr. Robins replied, focusing on his desk. “Classes will be cancelled, so you can take all the time you think you need. Just remember what we talked about this summer; listen, take notes, and then we’ll discuss afterward, okay?”
“Sounds good.”
The next thing she knew, Devon was standing in front of the milk machine in the dining hall. It was all the same meaningless swirl: the dull whispering voices of other students eating dinner, faculty trying to keep their toddlers quiet out of respect, and the kitchen staff yelling behind the scenes. Noise in a place that should have been dark and empty. All I wanted was some milk.
What would she do if she could go back to that night? Would she have done it differently? She wanted to experience that newness again. She thought of that apple juice dribbling down his chin. What if he hadn’t been there in the dark? She would have just gone back to her dorm without the milk. She would have shared that bag of cookies with the girls in her dorm and watched Bring it On. She wouldn’t know him like she did. And she wouldn’t be feeling this … whatever feeling the gnawing pit in her stomach was called. She wouldn’t be feeling that.
But Hutch was there in the dark. And despite what had happened over the past two years, however less frequent their conversations became, however much his secret glances at her across the classroom dwindled, she did know him.
A plate clattered to the floor somewhere in the back of the dining hall. She heard applause for the klutz at fault. A few people laughed. How is anyone laughing right now?
Hutch was right; he’d always been right. They were just a bunch of organ donors. Drones cycling through the prep school system and getting spit out on the other end with their fancy college acceptance letters in hand. They were moving parts in the machine. Replaceable parts.
But Hutch wasn’t replaceable.
Devon hated them. Hated that she was one of them. She had become a part of their machine. The same machine that Hutch had tried so hard not to be a piece of.
The words escaped her lips before she could stop herself.
“… bunch of organ donors.”
The metal milk machine blurred in front of her, morphing into a rippling molten bubble. She reached for a glass, but her hand looked fuzzy. Only then did she realize she’d been crying.
Peer Counseling Pilot Program Training Guide
by Henry Robins, MFT
Upon completion of the Peer Counseling Pilot Program Training program, the Peer Counselor will read and sign below:
Peer Counselor Oath
I, Devon Mackintosh, do swear, to the best of my abilities, to uphold the standard and method of Peer Counseling as explained in the Peer Counselor Pilot Program Training Guide written and taught by Henry Robins, MFT.
I have completed the forty-hour Peer Counselor Pilot Program Training Course with Henry Robins, MFT.
As Peer Counselor, I will not give advice to my subjects, but will use the listening and communication skills taught to me by Henry Robins, MFT, to be an understanding and helpful counselor to my peers seeking help.
I will keep and respect the confidentiality of my subjects, and will refer any subject to a professional when warranted.
Devon Mackintosh 9/5/12
Peer Counselor Signature
Date
Supervisor Signature Date
Signed forms should be given to Henry Robins, MFT, before first Peer Counseling session.
Name: Matt Dolgens
Session Date: Sept. 6
Session #1
Reason for Session: Best friend to Jason Hutchins
“I DON’T KNOW WHERE he got it, if that’s what this is all about.”
Matt slouched in the cracked faux-leather armchair. A metal music stand lay on the floor behind him. An out-of-date amplifier collected dust in the corner. So much for peer counseling resembling actual professional therapy. Why she’d imagined a movie set—where subjects lounged on plush recliners in a cozy, neutral, book-lined room; where Devon sat safely behind and beyond their field of vision—she had no clue. She knew Keaton.
Nothing sat between her and Matt’s angry eyes but three feet of stuffy air.