here has been leaked. Who knows what other people know? And it’s my fault.”
“Look, if everyone, especially Robins, really knew what being said in here, you would have been shut down already. My guess is, either they haven’t seen anything interesting enough in your notes yet, or, they don’t want this stuff to get out any more than you do.”
Devon blinked a few times and looked Cleo in the eye. “Cleo, I’m so sorry that our sessions got out. You trusted me, and I messed it up. That should never happen in a proper counseling session.”
Cleo waved her off with a smile. “Nah, that doesn’t matter. I got caught shoplifting, it’s not like those notes had anything that personal. Besides, isn’t this session still about me?”
“What? I mean, it is, but you still want to talk?”
“That’s why I’m here. I mean, your boyfriend betraying you totally sucks and all, but last time you told me to come back with the truth. So, is this a proper counseling session or what?”
Devon sat back in her chair and cleared her throat. She had been ready to watch Cleo slam the door on her way out. She had been ready to watch the whole program and all her work disappear like the puff of phony smoke in a magic act. But here was Cleo actually wanting to talk. Maybe it was a magic act. A real one. “Okay, yeah, we can do that. What do you want to start with?”
“I normally wouldn’t be into all this shit, but once I started thinking about coming back in here, being honest with you, honest with myself, I kind of started seeing things differently.”
“How so?” Devon wanted to reach for her notebook; this was the time to start taking notes. But, no. Those needed to be left alone, especially now.
“It was at that Pop-up Party the other day.” Cleo flicked lint off her black jeans. “Everyone rushed off to go do something they couldn’t normally do. Skip homework, dance, eat dinner on the lawn, hook up in a classroom.…” she raised an eyebrow again at Devon. The smugness of Cleo was still there, and in this case, rightfully so. Devon kept her eyes down and nodded, hoping she’d just move on already with the story. “But I remember I sat down on my bed and I didn’t know what to do. Like, what was it I wanted to do now that I could do anything with this free time? And nothing came to mind.”
“What did you end up doing?”
“That’s the thing. Nothing. I sat there running through all the things I’ve done already in my life. I’ve been to the Louvre. I’ve met the Dalai Lama. I’ve skied the Alps, been in a hot air balloon over Holland during tulip season. I’ve gone sky diving, skinny-dipping in the Mediterranean under a full moon. I have a tattoo of my initials on my butt. I lost my virginity to a gorgeous surfer named Ocean in Hawaii after I swam with dolphins. And, I couldn’t come up with one stupid thing I wanted to do while sitting on my bed in my ten-by-ten dorm room.”
“Maybe everything pales in comparison to all that other stuff?”
“But, it’s always been that way. My whole life has been full of ‘you’re gonna love this,’ or ‘you have to do that,’ but no one ever asked what I really want to do. It’s like I’ve been living someone else’s bucket list. And now that I have the chance, I don’t know what’s on my own list.” Cleo tugged on a buckle on her boot.
“No one told you that you had to steal that nail polish, or you’re gonna love stealing nail polish, though, did they?” Devon emphasized Cleo’s own words, but her tone was soft.
“No, I guess not.”
“Stealing the nail polish was fun because it’s something you’re not supposed to do. Right?”
Cleo looked up. “Yeah, I guess.”
“And everything you’ve done before that is a supposed-to.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Cleo sat up straighter. So did Devon. Was she actually making progress?
“A smart man once told me that there are two kinds of people in this world. The supposed-tos and the not-supposed-tos, and you, my dear, are a not-supposed-to.”
“I am?”
“I mean, this is completely off-book, but hear me out.” Devon leaned in, excited. Screw Mr. Robins’s Pilot Training Guide. “You’ve done everything right, everything your parents wanted, everything the tour books say to do, the whole upper class society thing you’re supposed to do, and the