Mrs. Rivers

With heavy feet, I walk into her office.

The environment is warm. Images of the forest, beach, and a sunset are framed on the wall. Along with a kitten and puppy. The walls are painted a soft cream color, and the brown couch matches her oak wood desk.

I take a seat on the couch while she sits at her desk. My hands fall onto the pleather of the sofa, and I wonder which side Haeden sat on. It’s cold, not at all warm like seats usually are after they’ve been occupied. Did he sit at all?

I can imagine him pacing the floor in front of me, walking from one side of the room to the other like a caged animal.

And why does he even see the school therapist? Probably for his drug addiction.

“I’m happy you came,” Mrs. Rivers says, drawing my attention to her. She has a notebook open on her desk, a pink pen besides it. I eye it, is that where she’ll be writing her notes about me? “I was wondering if you would show up. I would have had to assign you a detention if you didn’t.”

I frown. “So, if I