A few minutes later, the dryer buzzes, and I pull out my old jeans and new school shirts. There have been about a hundred times in the week, when my phone lights up with a text from Well or I wake up in my blue room or I swipe my student card in the vending machine to get a Twix, not because I’m starving, but just because I can, that I think about how different my life is now than it was in Tahoe. But even with all the new stuff and friends and family, I still would have chosen to go back to Mom. Now, after what Ginger just told me, I’m not so sure.

Friday morning is rainy and cold. The kind of cold that slinks down your jacket collar and settles into your skin. It’s been one week. One week of Chickering Academy and uniforms and algebra equations and English with Dan, where I have to call him Mr. Latimer, and theater with Mrs. Nicky, which, luckily for me, isn’t all like Monday’s class. There’s book work too. We’re in the history of vaudeville right now.

But today I have to meet with Andrea again. She wants to talk about the questionnaire. Dan leaves me at her door at seven fifteen. We have half an hour for her to talk at me and me to stare at the floor. I don’t want to know what my answers to her questions mean. If I don’t know, whatever it is can’t be true.

“Lou, come in! Come in!” Andrea chirps. With her hair down, it’s almost as long as mine. She’s wearing a denim dress and scuffed boots. Mom would approve. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Water?” she asks.

She doesn’t mention coffee. I wonder what age I have to be for it to be acceptable to be offered coffee? I miss Joe. But at least her office is warm, and there’s a candle lit. I sniff. Lavender. It’s supposed to be calming, but it’s not doing the trick. Whatever the answers to those questions were supposed to be, I marked them wrong. And this is how she’s going to break it to me. With tea and lavender.

“Lou, I’ve had a chance to look at the questionnaire you filled out for me on Monday.”

“I failed, right?”

“What? No, honey. This isn’t about passing or failing. And your teachers say you’ve been doing excellent work in class. We’re just gathering data. That’s all this is.”

“But…”

“No ‘but.’ This is an ‘and’ conversation. And, based on the questionnaire, it seems that certain situations trigger some anxiety in you. And that’s what we’re here to talk about.” She leans back in her chair, picks up her own cup of tea, and smiles. Like everything’s all good.