Chapter 21
As Hope climbed into her drab Honda to drive home, she pictured Cheri’s perfect face, gorgeous, fit body, and designer clothes. She couldn’t fathom her status and wealth. Not to mention the fact that she apparently had her own company at the ripe old age of, what, twenty-something? I’m not the envious type but damn. Why can’t I have just one of those things?
She tried to keep the waterworks at bay but a flood of tears streamed down her face as she pulled into her driveway. She angrily wiped them away. What’s wrong with you? You’re overweight, your hair is crappy, and you don’t have a life outside of school and Coconuts. Her chest heaved as she sobbed. Slamming her fist on the steering wheel, she immediately felt ashamed.
As Hope locked her car, she lectured herself. Stop being a crybaby. You have your health, two amazing best friends, a great job, and wonderful students. Blowing out her breath, she said aloud to the garage, “Still, I wish something, anything exciting would happen in my life.”
As she padded into her bedroom, she remembered Alex’s prophecy as she climbed under the covers. Maybe I should be careful what I ask for. It could be good—or not. She shivered.
~ ~ ~
The next morning, Hope crossed another day off the calendar as she counted down the last few weeks of school. Soon an entire summer lay before her. As usual, she didn’t have any plans except to meet her girlfriends at Coconuts. Still, she was ready to sleep in, read books, watch movies, and enjoy a blissful summer vacation away from her counseling duties. Maybe she’d even start exercising. She chuckled. Or not.
Drumming her fingers on her desk, she waited for Britney, her favorite student, to arrive. Hope knew she shouldn’t have favorites but she did. She especially related to Britney since she had a neglectful mother, much like her late hippie parents. She stared up at the ceiling tiles. May they rest in peace.
Her eyes brimmed with tears as she reflected about Larry and Montana. Most days, she could bear the pain. Other days, the memories overcame her. After they were killed in a train wreck, Hope had clung to the few remaining possessions they left behind including a lime green macramé plant holder Montana, her late mother, had made before the accident. It hung in the corner of her office. Hope touched it lovingly every day.
“I hope you and Dad are together.” Tears pricked her eyes. The only good thing that came out of the tragedy was discovering she had a biological father, Paul. A busy attorney, Paul had given Hope up for adoption after his wife—her biological mother—had died shortly after giving birth. He later told Hope he had been overwhelmed and didn’t know how to care for a newborn.
She discovered her hippie parents had worked for Paul. Often, Hope’s conflicts with the late Larry and Montana were due to money and the fact they rarely worked. Hope wished she could take back the horrible argument she had had with them prior to their fatal accident. Alex and Suzy had often harped about how they took advantage of Hope and had insisted she show them tough love. She did, and they were killed. Guilt still overcame her.
Another tear snaked down her cheek. She dabbed it with a tissue. Pull yourself together before students arrive.
Lost in thoughts, Hope realized she hadn’t yet flipped on the light. Her drab, gray office was becoming darker by the second. She glanced out the window as raindrops pelted the glass. Thunder boomed in the distance. This would be a perfect day to stretch out on the couch with a good book. She sighed. Someday I’ll retire.
Then she laughed out loud. Who am I kidding? I’m decades away from retiring. Hope peered out the pane as the storm became more active. Students parked their cars and rushed inside Hilltop. She could always predict the kids who would run late. A few had umbrellas but most either dashed toward the front door or held books over their heads, obviously to keep from getting drenched.
As she studied the darkening sky, the nicely landscaped campus caught her eye. She hoped the heavy rain wouldn’t knock blooms off a Dogwood tree teeming with hundreds of white floral flowers. Near it, was an equally showy Redbud—its limbs covered in magenta blooms. Both trees were overshadowed by a towering Bradford Pear bursting with tiny white buds. It was as if the three trees were sparring in a prettiest tree competition.
While Hope admired nature’s beauty, the wind picked up, students’ papers flew in the air, and tree branches swayed. Hope jumped as one large branch broke off, nearly hitting a student’s car. Soon blooms from the Dogwood and white Bradford Pear littered the ground like snow.
She glanced at the clock. The weather had changed drastically within minutes. The sky had turned dark and menacing as sheets of rain literally turned sideways, assailing the windows. A few remaining female students screeched as they ran inside the building. Some slipped on the wet grass and fell. Others held jackets over their heads in an attempt to stay dry.
Hope touched her own frizzy hair thinking about how ridiculous it looked when she got caught in the rain. Her messy hair was bad enough on a beautiful, dry day. She continued gawking out the window and willing the students inside as the early morning storm unfolded. Her office door slammed shut and she jumped.
“Sorry I’m late, Miss Truman. It’s awful outside.” Britney plopped in a chair and spread several soaked papers across Hope’s desk. “Is this okay? I need to dry my homework.”
“Sure. That’s fine. Glad you’re okay.”
Britney was wide-eyed. Her clothes and hair were drenched. “That storm came out of nowhere. I barely made it inside before I got drenched. In the hallway, my books slid right out of my hands and my homework flew everywhere. That new janitor helped me pick up my papers. He’s cool.” Britney eyed her beloved counselor, obviously for a reaction.
Hope sharpened a pencil. “I didn’t know we had a new janitor. That was nice of him to help you. Listen, I’ve got a busy day ahead. Ready to get started on your college applications?” Hope patted a tall stack of papers at the edge of her now-wet and massively cluttered desk.
Britney nodded then took her backpack off and set it on the floor with a thud.
Hope’s eyes bulged. “What’s in there? A baby elephant?”
Britney laughed. “Miss Truman, I have to carry all of my books in my bag. It’s breaking my back.”
“Why don’t you just carry the morning books and switch them at lunch?”
“No time. You know we only have twenty-five minutes to eat, which includes getting to the cafeteria. Besides, my locker is in the basement and my class after lunch is on the third floor. I’d never make it before the bell.” She pushed her wet hair behind her ears. “I’ll just have to deal.”
The student leaned over and plucked a pen out of a holder. “I can’t wait to go to college, any college. I hope one of them accepts me.” Britney rolled her eyes. “I want to be on my own and away from my mother.”
Hope frowned. “Is she still dating a lot of different men?”
“What do you think?” Britney chewed on the end of her hair. “The application, Miss Truman?”
Hope pushed her nameplate out of the way and moved Britney’s wet papers to a tiny side table. She wiped off her damp desk with a tissue and splayed several typewritten pages in front of her student. “Here are applications to five nearby colleges. Three are community colleges. Go ahead and get started. I’ll help you when I return. This will take a while.”
Hope stood. “While you fill these out, I’m going to get some of Hilltop’s famous, disgusting coffee.”
Britney frowned as she thumbed through the numerous sheets of pages. “This is a lot of work, Miss Truman. I’m gonna need help.”
“I’ll help you, but remember, you’ll be on your own in college. Do the best you can.” Hope patted her student’s shoulder.
Britney studied the applications front and back. As the student wrote her name at the top, Hope noticed Britney’s handwriting swayed left instead of right.
Grinning, Britney said, “I’ll complete the easy sections first like my name, address, birthdate, years at Hilltop High School, my hobbies, and other stuff they always ask.”
“Good plan. Take your time. This is important. It’s your future. Just fill out one page at a time.”
Britney groaned. “No pressure, Miss Truman.”
“You’ve got this, Brit. Be right back.”