"Thanks," I tell her as she hands them to me. "I hope your essay turns up." She looks touched, like I mean it.

"I do, too. You know, Tori quit the squad. There's a position available."

I snort. "Like I'd ever let you captain me."

Her mouth drops open, but I don't give her the chance to say anything back. I walk away, get my things out of my locker and head home. I'm tired of being around people my age, so I skip the bus, make the short walk to the city's main street and hail a cab.

I can afford it now.

TWO

"V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!

"HIT `EM LOW AND HIT `EM HIGH!

"V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!

"LET'S GO, JACKALS! WIN OR DIE!

"V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!"

Grey says I'm not allowed to spend lunch period in the nurse's office anymore because no one will take me seriously should the time ever come that I actually can't breathe, so I go to the gym and sit in on cheerleading practice instead. It's a pretty low-key affair. The squad takes up the far side of the court and Chris, his buddies and his new puppy, Jake, play a game of twenty-one on the opposite end.

It's sort of like old times except I'm not on top of the pyramid anymore. It was a relief for everyone the day I quit the squad. Jessie had been gone for a while. On a number of occasions I'd miscalculated how many shots of vodka you could down without going to class completely wasted, and anyway, I hadn't been showing up for practice for ages, and seeing as I was captain and everything...

Becky made herself cry so it looked like she actually cared about my well-being, like she was only taking over captaining duties superreluctantly, but because her mascara wasn't waterproof she wound up looking so ridiculous I laughed in her face in front of the whole squad. What was supposed to be a superficially touching moment for the girls and me didn't end very well.

In fact, they hate me now.

I broke up with Chris pretty shortly after that.

"V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!"

Chris emerges champion of twenty-one and the boys start an impromptu mini-game, except for Jake, who doesn't know I know he's been watching me every chance he gets, these "subtle" glances out the corners of his eyes. He casually removes himself from the game and makes his way up the bleachers. Our impending encounter has already left me exhausted, but at least I look better today than I did Monday. Dress shoes on feet (they were under the bed), clean skirt and shirt. My hair's brushed and in a tight ponytail at the back of my head. I slept well last night.

He sits down beside me. "We got off on the wrong foot."

"Did we?" I inhale. "Ew. I hope you're going to shower before class."

"Or maybe there is no right foot with you."

Silence. Jake shifts, laughs nervously and runs a hand through his hair. People always get uncomfortable when I decide to shut up. You'd think it'd be the opposite, but no.

After a couple of minutes, he bravely soldiers on:

"Chris told me I had better things to do than talk to you, but I kind of wanted to do it anyway."

Oh, Chris. I owe him a thousand apologies, but I don't have the time and he doesn't want to hear them. Also, I'm not sorry.

"He said that because he's not over me," I explain.

"Oh." Jake nods. After a beat, his eyes get comically wide. "Oh."

"Yeah."

I stand and stretch and he does the same, shifting some more. I focus my attention on the cheerleaders. Becky is in her element now that she's captain. She wants to coach professionally someday and the reality is she could do far worse and not much better. She shouts the girls into a ragged formation. We're not going to win any awards this year. I'm gone, Tori's gone and Jessie won't be back for who knows how long.

"Anyway," Jake says. I turn back to him. "I just wanted to start over on a good note, that's all."

I have to put this poor guy out of his misery.

"Look, Jake, I'm not in the market for--" I almost say a boyfriend, which is true, but this is even truer: "People."

"The-that's presumptuous of you," he stutters because he hears the boyfriend of it anyway, like I knew he would. "I... I'm not--"

"Aren't you?" I study him. I'm really not that presumptuous, but I need to kill this conversation. "Why else would you want to talk to me?"

"I was giving you a chance to redeem yourself for being such a bitch on Monday," he says, turning red all over. What a saint. "I thought I'd be nice to you--"

"And get into my pants in the process, right?"

"HIT `EM LOW AND HIT `EM HIGH!"

He's completely gobsmacked. Maybe they don't talk so forward wherever he came from. And I've no doubt he's probably a nice guy who poses no immediate threat to my hymen--if I still had one--but I meant what I said. I'm not in the market for people.

I want to be alone.

So I leave Jake on the bleachers.

After math, I'm due at the guidance office for my first of many sessions where I talk about my adventures on the straight and narrow and how I feel about it. Grey's in a cheerful mood when I sit across from her. Cheerful for Grey, anyway.

"I'm glad you showed up," she says. "Principal Henley and I had a bet on whether or not you'd skip and now I'm twenty dollars richer."

"She underestimates how much I want to graduate," I say.

"Well, I didn't." Grey smiles. "Let's get started. I want you to be open with me, Parker."

I take a deep breath. It smells suspiciously like bullshit in here.

"Open?" I repeat.

"Open. This is your space. Feel free to say anything. You have my word it won't leave the room. I want you to trust me. In learning to trust me, I learn to trust you, and from that trust we go forward. You get your life back and you graduate a person everyone can be proud of."

She looks over a piece of paper in front of her. I'm betting it's some kind of Parker Tally Sheet.

"You did well this week, mostly," she says.

It's funny--I think I'd actually rather be learning right now.

"I guess."

"You've done most of your homework. Good. Next week try for all of it, okay? Mrs. Jones informed me she's willing to be lenient about math since you've managed to get behind an entire unit, but that's not indefinite. I thought that was generous of her."

"Oh yes." I nod. "Very."

We get quiet. Grey's office is such a pit. There are no windows in here and some dumb ass thought fluorescent lights would be a great way to compensate. If anyone comes in here ready to die, they probably leave feeling that way, too.

"What are you thinking about, Parker?"

I'm thinking about Becky and Chris and how they've been making eyes at each other all day, and how in third period I realized by this time tomorrow both of us will have kissed him and how if they fall for each other, that means I'm replaceable. If I'm replaceable, if I step back and put something in the space where I was, I can probably get to be alone faster than I already am. Like, Becky and Chris get together and some new girl joins the squad and they forget about me. Next, I find someone who fucked up worse than I did, like some student prostitute who cuts herself, and that takes care of Henley and Grey and then--maybe I can convince my parents they need a puppy.

"I'm not thinking about anything."

"Fine." She purses her lips. "Let's get back to the week. There were a few glitches. The nurse's office. I don't know what that was about. And you were late for Mr. Norton's class on Monday. Mind telling me why?"

"I ran into the new kid. Jake something. He needed directions."

"Oh." She seems relieved. "So you weren't--"

"Don't worry, Ms. Grey. I wasn't drinking, smoking, toking or snorting in school. I keep the recreational drug use at home where it belongs."

"Parker," she warns.

I lean back and stare at the ceiling. The first time I was in this office was the last time I was drunk at school. I was slumped over in the very chair I'm sitting in now and Henley and Grey discussed my "situation" right in front of me, like there was no way I could follow what they were saying or remember any of it in the morning, but I did.

This is sad; this is so sad...

"So," she says.

"So."

"So...?"

She's superineffectual. I don't see the point of being a guidance counselor in high school if you can't have a gun. If you want a teenager to be open and especially if you want them to be honest, a gun to their head's probably the best bet. It doesn't matter, anyway. I decide to mess with her.

"Actually, I kind of liked getting back into the swing of things. Becky even offered me a position on the squad and that was so nice. Handing in my homework, talking to that Jake guy--it almost felt..." I insert a carefully calculated pause here. "Never mind; it's stupid."

"No, no." She leans forward eagerly. "You can trust me, Parker."

I stare at my hands.

"It almost felt like... before."

Grey loves it. She almost falls out of her chair; that's how convincing I am.

That's great, Parker; that's wonderful! See? We'll get you back yet! And then I clam up. No, it's stupid. You're wrong. It's stupid. Never mind. Because there's no qualifying exam to be a high school guidance counselor. All you have to do is watch a bunch of cheesy movies about troubled teens and take notes. This is how Grey expects the meeting to go down and I'm giving it to her because it might get me out of here faster or, at the very least, end this discussion.

"No, it's stupid," I repeat robotically.

"No, it isn't. It's not stupid. Never think it is."

I offer a cautious smile. "Thanks."

She creams herself.

The bell rings. I make a beeline for the door.

"Parker?" I don't turn, just wait.