New Girl - By Paige Harbison Page 0,35
still raised, and who still filed wordlessly.
I walked into the room Dana was filling with negativity.
“Have a seat.”
I sat.
“Very well,” Dr. Morgan began. “Is there some kind of conflict between the two of you?”
“Nope,” Dana said, simply.
“What is the problem?” Dr. Morgan looked to me.
“I…I don’t know.”
“There’s no problem.”
Dr. Morgan looked very seriously at her for a moment and then spoke.
“Miss Veers, I know this is an unspeakably hard time for you—” She stopped as Dana let out a derisive snort. She breathed and then started again. “As I say, I know it’s difficult. But you cannot be angry because Becca’s side of your room has been filled by a new student.”
Dana didn’t speak.
“I encourage you both to talk about what’s bothering you, so that you can work through it.”
Both of us? How was it not obvious that I had done nothing wrong?
I glanced at Dana, who was looking deadly. I stayed silent. Dr. Morgan waited at first, and then pulled out a date book.
“Dana, are you available at around four tomorrow afternoon?”
I looked at her. There was something in her expression besides fury. She looked worried. Nervous. A pang of pity struck me unexpectedly.
“Yes, four is fine.”
Dr. Morgan scribbled in her book and Dana walked out without looking at me. The door shut quietly, but a sound rang through me as if she’d slammed it.
Dr. Morgan cleared her throat and looked at me. “How have things been since your arrival?”
“Um…fine.”
“Really?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Really.”
She waited for me to change my mind or go on. When I didn’t, she cleared her throat.
“You know, it’s a good idea to talk about how you’re feeling to someone like me, especially when you’re in a new place and don’t know many people.”
I hesitated. Nothing that was bothering me could come out sounding anything less than selfish and self-pitying.
I smiled and shrugged. “I’m good, I like it here.”
She waited again, as she had when Dana had lied, and then carried on.
“Well, then, on to other business.” She placed her glasses on her nose and looked down at a manila folder that must be mine. “You’ve been accepted to a few colleges already, I see?”
“Yes, Florida State University and Boston University.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Two very different places. May I ask why you applied to each?”
“Boston is where my parents went. They met there and everything.” I thought of the photo album filled with pictures from their four years there. It was what I imagined when I thought of college. It was so…I don’t know, academic feeling. They had millions of pictures in front of big old buildings or in small, awful dorm rooms with big windows that looked out on a place filled with history. I imagined a grassy quad filled with studying students in scarves and BU sweatshirts, good-looking guys throwing perfectly spiraled footballs, and a slightly chilly wind carrying fallen leaves across the sidewalks that lead to brick dorms filled with first experiences.
Not that I’d thought about it very much.
“And why FSU?” Dr. Morgan asked, shaking me from my thoughts.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just always planned to go there. It’s where all of my friends are going and it’s near home.”
Then there were the thoughts that came to mind when I thought of going there. Palm trees and smooth, modern buildings. Hugely popular bands performing in the stadium. Still being able to tan in October.
It had always been the plan. But when I thought of it, it just felt like it would be too easy.
My friends and I would stay in our habits at school. I wouldn’t make a whole other group of friends. I’d go home a lot. I’d have fun, but wouldn’t try anything new. I had horrible images of myself graduating and sticking around, never seeing anything new. Never taking a risk.
“Which are you leaning toward, either one?”
“I’ve been planning on going to FSU.”
“And what major are you considering currently?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She looked at me as if waiting for me to decide on one. When I gave a pitiful smile, she said, “All right, that’s fine. Most people don’t know at this stage anyway. You’ve got plenty of time.”
“I wanted to talk to you, or whoever, about maybe a scholarship. I don’t know if I have the grades or…I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to ask about it.”
“Well, the problem there is that scholarships are easiest to come by when you do have a major in mind.” She squinted and then bent over to