Perception

Chapter Two: Counseling
“Now, Carson, you know we believe you’re a good kid. Now, tell me, why did I come into my office today to hear that you’ve been pushing people down stairs?” The principal asked, not missing out on a chance to make me feel like a four year old.
“Mrs. Carlson, she was insulting Brian. She called him crazy.”
“So that gives you the right to attack her? Ms. Ellison, this is a school. Not an MMA ring. We do our best to create a safe environment. You have become very difficult to deal with.” she said.
I let my head turn away from her angrily. Keeping the tension from rising would be a good idea.
“I’ve heard about the rumors. I know what people call Brian. I know what people call you. But I don’t think either of you are anymore paranormal than any of the other teenagers of this world.” she said. “I want you to try to get rid of these anger issues though. I’ve spoken to your mother, too. She says you do tend to lash out. I want you to see our counselor everyday at lunch.”
“What? This is totally unfair! I have-”
“Friends? C’mon, Carson. You and I both know that’s not true. I hate to be rude and uncaring, but it’s true. You don’t. No one has willingly talked to you since second grade. I want you to see the counselor not because I want to ruin your life, but because I want to help you.”
I had nothing to say to such cruelty, so I got up and leave. I simply walked straight to my first class. Everyone seemed to know what had happened, and rumors were spreading like weeds. Jordan sat in the corner opposing mine, glaring whenever possible. A white bandage covering her left temple. Her expression hard and cold.
At lunch I walked into the counselor’s office with great reluctance. I walked into the room. It reeked of strong perfume and scented candles. A collision of lavenders and cherry blossoms and sugar cookies. Alone, the scents smelled nice. Altogether, though, they made me nauseous.
“Hello.” A woman stood up and smiled at me. “My name is Ashley.”
She looked about twenty-five, but seemed to have taste like an eighty year old woman.
“Hi.” I said reluctantly.
“You’re Carson Ellison, right?” she asked.
“Yes.” I answered.
“Okay good.” she walked over to a little station where a coffee maker and tea bags and hot water stood. “Do you like coffee?”
“Yeah.” I answered.
She motioned for me to come over. I did to find a table with all kinds of coffee accessories spilled out on it. I simply filled a Styrofoam cup and sat down in one of the bean bags.
“So,” she situated herself across from me. “What makes you so angry that you push people down stairs?”
She smiled like this was all perfectly fine and that it’s not that big a deal.
“Um...” I searched my head for a good lie. I couldn’t find one. Guess I’ll have to go with the truth. “People don’t understand that I’m different. They don’t get that I like to be excluded. I like being far far away from everyone. I like being alone. I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m abnormal. I just don’t like people. I like being alone. So, when people make me mad-because of lack of social skills,I suppose-I lash out.”
“Hmm...” She wrote something down on a notebook and sips her coffee. “Well, do you want friends? Or is it just you, yourself, and you?”
“More like the second one. Well...”
“What?”
“There’s only one person I’ve ever wanted to talk to. But I don’t think he wants to even look at me.”
“He?” She asked, clearly intrigued by this little fact.
I nodded, shyly.
“Who is it?”
I knew this was something I did not want to tell her about. But, this time, I had a good lie to use.
“Peter Knight.” I lied.
“Ah, Peter Knight. I’ve heard about him. Super star, Peter Knight. British, too. That makes all you girls go crazy, hm?” She smiled.
“Uh...yeah.” I said.
And I almost laughed. This was the most ridiculous lie ever. As if i would ever have the slightest interest in Peter Knight. Sure, he was on the football team, blond, blue eyed, British, guitarist, and the single most good looking boy Lincoln High I had ever seen, but he wasn’t the kind of person I would fall for. He was Mr. Popular, and I was Ms. Outcast. The fact that Ashley believed this was ludicrous. I blamed all the cliche` movies that Hollywood expected me to pay to watch.
“So,” she said. “Why don’t I see if I can get Peter to visit me while you’re here. Would you like that? Or do you want me to stay uninvolved.”
“Uh...” I thought for a second. “I don’t mind.”
I really didn’t. I did not care if Peter Knight had any attraction to me at all.
The bell rang.
“Well, I’ll be going now.” I said, gathering my things. I tossed the coffee in the trash on my way out. The scent of paper, printer ink, and old lady perfume filled my nostrils once again as I step out into the main office. I felt surprisingly better. Until I saw the person on the other side of the glass windows.
Green eyes pierced my heart.