Chapter 4
Hope wrinkled her nose as she sipped Hilltop High School’s acrid coffee. She waved to Britney who bounded steps two at a time, obviously in an attempt to race to class. In the hallway, Hope passed her colleague, Willow, the cool, new hippie art teacher. After chatting with Willow for a moment, she approached her own office.
When Hope stepped inside her door, one of the smartest students in school—most likely the valedictorian-to-be—was already seated in a gray vinyl chair in front of her desk. She sat across from him and reached into her drawer for ibuprofen.
“Hello, Will. This is a nice surprise. Hold on a sec. I’ve got a massive headache.”
The student fidgeted in his chair.
After she took the brown pills, she looked into his soft hazel eyes. “To what do I owe this unplanned visit?”
Will leaned forward, looked from side to side, and behind him. The star student scooted forward in his chair until his knees bumped her desk.
Hope’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you joining the CIA or something, Will? You’re so serious.”
Will didn’t crack a smile as he lowered his voice. “Miss Truman, I don’t want to go to college.”
Hope’s forehead creased, and not from her headache. “But you’re one of the brightest students we have. Actually, you’re one of the smartest we’ve ever had. What in the world do you want to do with your life that doesn’t require a college education?”
“Weld. Construction work. Work on cars. Anything except continually proving myself to my dad. I’m sick of living up to his standards. I want to be my own person.”
“Remind me what your dad does again?” Hope asked.
“He’s a judge. Before that he was an attorney and he teaches law classes at college.”
“A real slacker.”
The student laughed. “Exactly. He wants me to follow in his footsteps but I don’t want to study law. Dad wants me to go to his alma mater. He was a legacy student and went to the same college as his dad, my grandfather. He expects me to carry on the family tradition, pledge to the same fraternity, etcetera.” Will ran his fingers through his brown, wavy hair. “I don’t know how to get out of majoring in law. He’ll flip out if I break the family tradition. I need your help, Miss Truman.”
“You’ll probably be valedictorian of your class.” Hope’s chair creaked as she leaned back. “What do your parents think about this?”
“I haven’t told them.” Will shifted in his seat. “I thought you could-maybe-I don’t know, tell them for me.”
Hope leaned forward. “Will, listen to me. You’re a star. You have your whole life ahead of you. Maybe you should travel for a year and decide. Do you have the funds to do that?”
Will cocked his head. “What do you think?”
Hope eyed his expensive button-down shirt and leather backpack. Most of the students dressed in tees and worn jeans. Will stood out in more ways than one. She wondered if his dad—the judge—told him what to wear each day and immediately felt sorry for the wealthy, smart kid who just wanted to be his own person and find his own way.
“Why did you mention welding or cars?”
He shrugged. “They’re both vastly different from law.”
Hope smiled. “That’s for sure, but somehow, I don’t think that retort will fly with your dad. Just an assumption.”
Will rubbed his chin. “Are you kidding? He’ll probably disown me if I don’t follow his pre-planned path. What should I do, Miss Truman? I need your help.”
Hope made idle notes on a Hilltop High School note pad. “I can’t tell you what to do, but as the school counselor, I can advise you.”
The student leaned forward with both hands on his knees. “I’m listening.”
“Have you ever actually worked on a car or welded? Gotten grease on your hands?”
Will shrugged. “I changed the oil in my car a few times.”
“Then let’s go the car route.” She picked up her desk phone. “Are you busy the next couple of days after school?”
Will shook his head as she dialed. “I have a mechanic friend who is a whiz. He kept my parents’ dilapidated van running for years. Let me see if he’ll let you shadow him for a few days. Get your hands dirty. Really dirty.”
Will smiled. “Great.”
Hope explained the situation to her mechanic friend who said he’d be glad to have the extra help. She made the arrangements and Will left her office with the business address of the auto body shop written on a scrap of paper.
She smiled to herself. Something tells me he’ll be happy to study law after some hot, back-breaking work on several cars.