“I’m fine.”

“Avery,” Dr. Pratz interrupts, scolding me, “you need to be at least semi-cooperative for this assignment, Miss Stanz. A real patient would be more cooperative.”

“Not a teenager,” I counter.

“You’re not a teenager. Speak in full sentences please. And yes, I will interrupt if either of you needs it.” He presses the button on his watch again. “Resume.”

I straighten in my chair a little. “I’m doing okay today.”

Emma looks at Dr. Pratz, but he doesn’t interject again. “It sounds like you’re a little tense. Is something bothering you?”

I shake my head and pick at my fingernails. “Nothing really. Just the normal end of semester stress and trying to juggle my time.”

“Oh, do you usually have trouble with that?”

“No.” I don’t want to talk in front of all these people, but I’m being graded. I add, “It’s just lately my time seems to get away from me. Add that to the end of semester assignments and I’m swamped. It’s nothing major. Summer will come and then I’ll have too much time. Time’s like that, right? We either have too much or too little. It’s never spot-on.” I smile at her.

Emma nods. “What are the major things that consume your time?”

“Work and school.”

“I understand that can be difficult. Where do you work?”

Crap. I straighten a little bit more and lie. “At a steakhouse.”

“Stop,” Dr. Pratz interrupts and steps between us. He turns to Emma. “Do you feel like you’re making progress?”

Emma squirms in her seat. “Yes, I think so.”

“Avery, since we only have a few minutes here, throw her a bone. Resume.” He steps back and the clock is ticking again.

Throw her a bone? How the hell do I do that? I try to think of something that she can run with that won’t make everyone get a glimpse into my mind. I chose something that seems harmless. “My friends are stressing me out. One is really stressing me out. He keeps saying he’ll change, but he doesn’t.” How’s that for a bone? I won’t say it’s Sean, but that should give her enough to work with for a few moments.

Dr. Pratz nods at me, pleased. Good.

Emma presses her lips together. Her forehead is creased with worry. “Ah, so it sounds like you don’t think that people can change?”

“People don’t change.”

“So you completely disregard change theory? You don’t believe a person can change when they set their mind to it?”

“No, and change theory is just that—a theory. People don’t change. Name one person who truly changed.” Emma opens her mouth, but says nothing. I prod her. “Come on. Anyone.”

“Stop.” Dr. Pratz says. He stands and steps between us. He says to Emma, “She commandeered the conversation. It’s your job to control it. Steer it back so that the questions follow the path you want to take or God knows where you’ll end up. Resume.”

Emma swallows hard. “Why does this friend need to change?”

Because he’s twisted and wants to make me cower in fear before he has sex with me. “To get over his past.”

“Did something traumatic happen to him?” I nod. “I understand. So tell me, how do you think a person gets over something traumatic from their past?” I falter. The smug look on my face drops. She sees it and dives in. “Did something happen to you? Do you feel like you can’t change? Do you feel trapped?”

My heart is pounding and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. I try not to show it, but it’s like everyone can sense she found something. I stare at her like I want to pound her head in when we’re in the parking lot later. I try to keep my voice light and my face expressionless, but it’s impossible. I’m too bitter, too resentful because of what happened. “Yes.”

“Did it change you?”

I nod. We learned that if a person decides that they want to change, that they can. Something has to change inside their mind before the change is complete. But that’s not what happened to me. I didn’t decide to become this way. I woke up one day and the change was forced on me. I glance at Dr. Pratz, hoping he’ll stop her, but he doesn’t. Emma asks, “Is that why you think people can’t change, because you can’t change back?”

Something twitches and it’s like she touched a match to my mind. The entire class is utterly still, watching me. I stare at her. Changing by choice is not possible. If it was, I wouldn’t be like this.

“People don’t change.” I manage. My throat is too tight, my voice is too strained.

“Do you want to change your life? Is it possible that you’re the one who has the problems accepting change and not your friend?”

I stiffen. I forget that I’m in front of a classroom filled with people for a second. My emotions are too raw. “No, it’s because some changes just don’t happen. Some changes can’t happen. Some people are too stuck, too broken. They can’t be fixed, so it doesn’t matter what you ask or how you frame it because the end result is always—”

Dr. Pratz cuts me off, “Time.” I realize that Emma got to me. I’m not even sure how she did it, but she did. Allowing people to pick at mental sore spots is insane. None of those places have healed. I feel stupid.

Dr. Pratz continues, “Emma, very good, but you should never go through someone’s mind randomly pressing buttons to see what happens. When you encounter a sore spot like the one you just found, it could be anything from a day-old ego bruise, to a decades-old abuse scar. If you press a button that’s still raw, it turns into a landmine. You’ll lose control of the session and your client.

“That’s enough for today. Class dismissed.” Dr. Pratz turns to Emma and me, “Please grab your things and follow me back to the counseling center.”

Emma protests, “I have a class after this.”

“Then go, I’ll show you another time. Avery, come with me.” Dr. Pratz is out the door before I have my books. I chase after him. He’s so damn tall that it takes forever to catch up. When I fall in step with him, he looks over at me. “I can see it, you know.”

I already know what he means. He knows I’m messed up. There’s no guessing for guys like him. It’s communicated without saying a word. “I know.”

“Do you want help?”

I stare straight ahead and clutch my books to my chest. “No one can help me.”

“Mmmm. A word of caution then—ghosts will haunt us unless we confront them. Until then, they have a way of invading every aspect of our lives and ripping it apart at the seams.”

“Like a poltergeist.”

“Exactly.” We approach a door and he pulls it open, allowing me to walk inside first. It’s the school’s counseling center.

This is where I want to do my graduate work. If I continue to work for Black, I can start this summer. I’m excited and nervous to be here. I want to help people, but I need so much help myself. It really makes me wonder if I can do it. For a while, I thought all that pain would make me better at this job, but now I’m not so sure. Sometimes pain just hurts.

Dr. Pratz walks to the front desk, grabs his messages, and I follow him back to his office. “Sit.”

I’m not sure what he wants, but I take a seat. “Avery, I know you want to be admitted to the grad school next year. It’s a very rigorous program and I honestly have concerns about you being able to carry the course load.”

This is news to me. Panic sparks to life in the pit of my stomach. “I can do it. I know I can. I maintained my GPA for undergrad. I had a bump, but I recovered.”

He presses his palms together and looks at me for a moment. His dark eyes show nothing but concern, but it still makes my stomach dip. “You’re right. Earlier this year, your grades were lacking. They improved, but I feel like you have some issues distracting you from your course work. Is it something you want to talk about?” I shake my head and give him an awkward smile. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. I want to see you excel, Avery.”

“I’ve found a way to begin grad school this summer. I can take a lighter course load, but attend year round, if you think that I should. Dr. Pratz, I really need this. I’ve worked so hard to get here. I promise that I’ll give it my undivided attention.”

“Avery, I like the idea of you spreading out your course load over the summer. Maybe that would allow you to lighten your work schedule. Your graduate scholarship is still being determined. The next few months are important. Attending this summer might be a very good option for you. One of the things you need to learn is to set reasonable expectations for yourself. If you constantly stretch yourself thinner and thinner, you’ll snap.”

“Yes sir.”

We chat for a few more moments, and by the time I leave his office, I realize that my future plans may be beyond my reach. I need to ask Miss Black for fewer appointments and more money.

CHAPTER 7

The weather has turned frigid. Big thick flakes are falling from the sky as I trek across campus. When I finally get back to the room, Amber is cursing, getting ready for her night class. She tugs a sweater over her head and glares at me. “I hate the snow.”

“Then move to Florida.” Amber scowls and hurries out the door.

I sit on my bed for a moment. When I was younger snow made me so excited, so happy. As soon as there was enough snow covering the ground, I do the same thing every single time—built a snowman. I wonder if it’s crazy, if I should do things like that anymore. I walk across the room to the window and look outside. It’s still snowing. A smile slowly spreads across my face. Screw it. I don’t care if people think I’m crazy. I’m going.

Taking my book bag, I dump out the contents on my bed before heading over to my dresser. I grab what I need and make my way down to my car. I still can’t believe Sean repaired it for me. I grin at the old girl and pat the hood like she’s a horse. “I would have missed you.”