The sins of her father could ruin her entire life...
Sang Sorenson is an 18 year old high school senior at Ashley Waters school. Her mother is dead, her sister has gone no-contact, leaving her with an absent father.
She's determined to get through s...
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"Sang," Mrs Jones calls, and I pause as the rest of the class heads out the room. I wipe my hands against my skirt as they're sweaty. When the door slams shut after the last person, she smiles at me warmly. "Mr Anderson would like you to meet him now. Your maths teacher has been informed."
"Mr Anderson?" I ask quietly. I'm not sure who he is.
"The guidance tutor," she replies, giving me a pink slip. "He's helping with college applications..." She trails off at my confused look, and sighs as she rummages through her desk drawer. A small 'aha' escapes her lips, as she shows me a sheet of paper. "Here, look. You signed up a few weeks ago."
"Oh, yes," I say, nodding.
I don't want her to think I'm weird... but I definitely didn't sign up for this. I've never seen that sheet before in my life—which is strange since my attendance is perfect and I always pay attention in class. I don't argue, because the extra help would be good. I'm at a loss in how to approach this next step, and if he's willing to help me, who am I to say no thanks? I thank Mrs Jones as I leave the room, and I walk as fast as I can over to the office. I hope that my conversation with Mrs Jones hasn't made me too late, and that Mr Anderson will forgive me.
I enter the office, quietly walking over to the desk. There's a student sitting glaring at me, and I'm guessing he's somehow already in trouble. There has been one class so far—homeroom—so what has he done to be sent here? My steps are silent; something that has been so ingrained in me that even though she's gone, and the abuse has stopped, my body still hasn't acknowledged the change in situation.
"Hello, sweetheart," the receptionist says, not looking up from her computer. "What can I do for you?" Her fingers are flying across the keyboard, without her even looking down at them. I'm capable of using a computer, but my skills aren't as advanced as this lady's.
"Hi. I've got a meeting with Mr Anderson," I reply, showing her my pink slip. Her eyes are still trained on the computer though, so she misses the action.
"Ahh, lovely. Do you have a slip?" she asks, and when I nod, and hand it over, she doesn't even read it before motioning to the corner. "If you walk around there, he's the first door on the left. Nobody is in right now so you can head straight inside."
"Thank you," I murmur, ducking my head on my walk past the other student and making my way to the door marked 'Mr Anderson'. I knock, lightly, because it's open, but I feel uncomfortable walking inside. The man looks up and smiles.
He's older, maybe in his early 50s, with black hair that's starting to grey. He's wearing a suit, but the jacket's off and the tie is undone. The relaxed attire whilst still being professional is to put us at ease, and now that I know that, my heart responds accordingly... by beating so fast and hard, that I can hear the echoing. He's deliberately orchestrated his office, and himself, to give off a tranquil vibe. How am I meant to feel calm right now?
