Chapter 3

Lanie

South Seattle High School was bigger than it was supposed to be.

At least that’s what I thought as I stood outside looking at it on my first day. Had it been so gargantuan when I had gone in for my interview?

I didn’t think so. Although, maybe the fact that I didn’t feel intimidated at all that other morning led to me being confident and getting the job.

This day, though, I was anything but sure. I felt like it was my own first day of high school as I navigated the swarm of students in the main hallway, none of who gave me so much as a second look. Right then, I was just another adult to them, someone whose name they thought they wouldn’t remember in five years.

I hoped to change that. South Seattle had over a thousand students, which meant there had to be hundreds of kids there who needed help in some way or another. Luckily, that’s what I was there for. Hopefully, by the time these teenagers left high school, they’d be at least a little more adjusted, thanks to me.

Really, I didn’t even care whether they ever remembered my name or not. I just wanted to have as much of a positive effect on them as I possibly could.

At the main office, I rapped on the open door. A middle-aged woman behind a desk glanced up, her half-hooded eyes looking bored with me already. A thread of anxiety wound its way through my heart, and I once again felt like the new kid—unsure and afraid no one would like me.

“Hi. I’m Lanie Jacobs. I’m the new counselor.” Despite my feelings, I smiled like it was the best day of my life.

She opened her mouth, but a male voice filled the room instead.

“Good morning, Miss Jacobs. How are you doing?”

It was Principal Stafford, sidling through a doorway on the other side of the office. He smiled at me, nodding as if in approval. “It’s so good to have you here.”

“I’m excited to be here.” I clasped my hands together and nervously squeezed—then quickly dropped them at my sides. The only thing worse than being anxious was everyone knowing you were.

Principal Stafford cleared his throat. “This is, uh, Joyce.” He motioned at the woman behind the desk and, as a second employee came in, her as well. “And Robin.”

Robin was younger than Joyce and seemed to be more pleasant since she at least gave me a wave and a smile.

Joyce and Robin. Joyce and Robin. I repeated the names in my head, sure I would only be able to remember half the names I’d learn that day but eager to try regardless.

“I’ll take you to your office.” He swung his arm in excitement, and I followed him back into the hall.

“Principal Stafford,” a boy sang out as we passed him by the bathrooms. He held his hand out for a fist bump, and the principal complied. The guy in charge of the school seemed kind of young for a principal, maybe a little more than ten years older than me, but he was very nice. If a softie like him could make it at South Seattle High School, that left a lot of hope for me.

“Here we are.”

He stopped at the very end of the hallway, past where the wings branched off. The office was small, but it was at the corner so had two windows. A filing cabinet, a desk with a computer that was at least ten years old, and three chairs were all it contained. Not one plant or poster.

“Feel free to decorate it as you see fit. With, uh, within reason, of course.”

“Of course,” I agreed.

The bell rang as we stood there, signaling the start of the first period.

“Student records are in the cabinet.” He pointed. “Once you use your ID to link to the school board’s site, you’ll be able to see all the kids’ current schedules. We don’t usually print that out unless it’s needed, it changes so much. Ah, let’s see. What else? School policies and tax forms are in that folder on the desk. Let me know if you need anything.”

Having been nodding the entire time he talked, I forced myself to stop. “I will. Thanks again.”

“You’ll like it here. Yes. I’m sure you will.”

“Principal Stafford, if you—”

“You can call me Tim if you like. All the teachers use first names here.”

“Right. Tim. Thank you. I was just wondering, why did the last counselor leave?”

I hadn’t thought to bring it up in the interview, but the school replacing staff a month into the semester was odd.

“Oh, she was, well, she had a lot going on. Stress and all. Wanted to make a career change. But don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Principal Stafford smiled. Standing side-by-side, I noticed he was only a few inches taller than me, which is saying something considering my lack of height had always been a source of irritation for me. I wondered how he kept the kids in line with such a small stature. Likely he connected with them on a friendly level, if what I saw in the hallway was evidence.

With another nod, he went, leaving me alone in my new office. I hovered in the doorway, taking everything in. The last counselor had quit because of stress. In no universe did that sound like a good thing.

Actually, it was pretty freaking ominous.

Had it been the kids that got to her? My heart thudded faster, and I bit the inside of my bottom lip. Oh god. What was I getting myself into here? Maybe I should have stayed in kindergarten after all.

Was it too late to go back there? They’d already replaced me, yes, but there were other schools.

“Calm down,” I whispered out loud. “You’re freaking out.”

Slow breath after slow breath, I took a seat at my new station. The chair wasn’t the best, but it had padding. And the desk, one of those long ones that a couple of people usually work at, came to just the right level. It was an environment that could definitely be worked with.

Flipping through the files on my desk, I made a mental note of what I needed to take care of that day and of what could wait. In the desk’s top drawer were a few files, all of them pretty sparse. Whoever had held the position before me must not have been there for very long. Either that or they didn’t like compiling notes.

Opening the folder marked “Urgent,” I found a picture of a beautiful blond girl with sharp, green eyes. It was a school portrait, and even though the teenager was posed in the stereotypical way, head cocked, shoulder to the front, defiance lived in her eyes.

A firecracker, for sure.

Trailing my finger down the page, I found her stats. Raven Marx. Seventeen. A senior at South Seattle. Had some disruptions the previous year, including skipping classes and talking back to teachers. The last few weeks, though, things had gone further south. She’d taken to cussing in class and threatening other students with harm.

Moving past Raven’s file, I read the few other ones in the folder. Just judging from the family information on the other pages, I got a sense of why the kids were likely having troubles. One boy’s father was in prison, and another’s parents were going through divorce.

There was more information on all the kids, but I left the detailed reading for another time and moseyed my way down the hall. There were coworkers to meet.

Too soon, the teacher’s lounge was in front of me. With sweaty palms, I opened the door and went in. Two women not much older than me stood talking in the little kitchen area, and a man with salt-and-pepper hair hunched over a big folder in a chair by the window.

The man didn’t so much as look up, but the women glanced my way, and I realized one of them was Robin from the office.

“She’s just hopeless,” the other woman was saying. “Raven’s never going to change because she doesn’t have to.”

My ears practically twitched. A tidbit on a student! With my social anxiety dissipating, I made my way over to them.

“Robin, right?” I offered my hand to the other woman. “I’m Lanie Jacobs, the new counselor.”

“Destiny Rodriquez.” She shook my hand and smiled at me. “I teach music.”

“I couldn’t help but overhear. Were you talking about Raven Marx?”

“Ugh.” Robin made a face. “The one and only.”

“I just glanced at her file. I saw she’s been having some trouble recently.”

Destiny sighed. “Trouble would be a light way of putting it.” She took a swig of whatever was in her mug. “I need to get ready for second period. Nice meeting you, Lanie.”

I gave her a little wave and turned back to Robin. “Raven is sent to the office a lot?”

“Yep,” she tartly replied, turning around to fill her ceramic mug with coffee from the nearby pot. “She’s pretty close to getting expelled, most likely.”

“Hm.” I frowned. “Do you have any idea why she’s acting out? I didn’t see anything in her file about—”

Robin swallowed a hot sip and shook her head. “You’re not going to find anything special in there. The girl is a spoiled brat. Plain and simple.”

My stomach twisted at the unfair term. Calling a person a brat was an easy way of glossing over an issue. No one acts out for no reason. Even if a kid is used to always getting what they want, they still deserve help. Spoiling creates bigger issues that affect a person for the rest of their lives.

“Thank you.” I smiled politely, feeling it was time to retreat. “I should get back to work. See you around.”

Halfway back to my office, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. Stealing a look around to make sure the hall was empty, I pulled the phone out and accepted Erica’s call.

“Hey,” I whispered.

“How is the first day?” Erica squealed.

Reaching my door, I slipped into the safety of the office where I could talk in peace. Taking a personal call at school would probably not bode well for my success there.

“Good.” I slipped into my seat. “Already have a few kids on my radar.”

“Is that good or bad?”

I chuckled. “We’ll see. I was just in the teacher lounge, and one of the women in the office told me about this girl, Raven Marx. Called her a brat. God, I hate that word.”

“Raven Marx?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That name sounds familiar.”

“From where?” I laughed again as I powered up the computer. Time to see if the last counselor left any useful tidbits of information on the desktop. “Since when do you hang out with high school kids?”

“No,” she said seriously.“I have heard it from somewhere. Marx. Where’ve I heard that name?” In Erica’s background, people chattered and phones rang. Her office was always buzzing with activity. I’d visited it a few times, and my head had nearly exploded from the energy. Kindergarten was one thing, but the advertising branch of an accounting firm was another. As the baller head of the department, though, Erica took the craziness all in stride.

“The only Marx I’ve heard of is Andrew Marx,” she said. “You know who he is?”

“Uh-uh.” I scrolled through the documents on the computer, finding some pictures from a school play the year before and lots of files regarding the district’s behavior policies.

“Is that a no?” She went on, not waiting for an answer.“Andrew Marx is the CEO of Marx Investments. It’s the top investment firm in the US. Has been for years.”

“Oh. Cool.”

I couldn’t have cared less.

“But I doubt that’s his daughter at your school. He probably sends his kid to private schools.”

“Yeah. Could be a distant relative,” I mumbled, still perusing the computer’s files.

“Okay. I gotta go. Text me later.”

“Kay. Bye.”

We hung up, and I concluded there was nothing that useful on the computer. Nibbling on my lip, I pulled Raven’s picture out again. Something about it just wouldn’t leave me alone.

It was that intense gaze. That had to be it. Raven Marx looked like a fighter, the kind of girl who would only act up if she had a good reason. Really, that needed rephrasing. She seemed like the kind of girl who would only act up if she had a bad reason—if something was really wrong in her life.

I needed to find that reason out.