She Was the Quiet One. Michele Campbell

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      Bel was relieved that he was talking about official-sounding stuff. If she was lucky, she could sit here and enjoy listening to him and never have to say a word.

      “At Odell, we’re fortunate to have professionals for every function,” Mr. Donovan continued. “There are counseling services at the health center if you’re having emotional or mental health issues. You’ll be assigned a college counselor starting next year. My job is to advise you about academics, and more generally . . .”

      She got distracted by the color of his eyes. They were such an intense shade of aqua-blue that they almost seemed fake. Was it possible that he wore colored lenses? But they went beautifully with the long, sooty lashes, and the rich, dark color of his hair, so maybe they were real after all.

      “Bel, are you listening?”

      “Oh, I’m sorry. I apologize. I just—” She blushed furiously and shook her head.

      “No. You know what? It’s my fault, droning on like a page out of the handbook. No wonder you zoned out. Let’s start over. I’m Heath, and I’m your advisor, nice to meet you.”

      He reached across the table, and she realized he intended to shake her hand. Had he just given her permission to call him by his first name? Their eyes met, and she put her hand in his. The warmth of his grip jolted her.

      “And you are—?” he asked.

      “Isabel Enright. Bel. Call me Bel. I’m your, um, your student. Nice to meet you, too.”

      The exchange was so silly that she laughed, and felt less awkward after that. Maybe he wouldn’t prove impossible to talk to after all. She simply had to concentrate on what he said, not how he looked.

      Easier said than done.

      “Think of me as your guide to Odell,” Heath said, releasing her hand. “You come to me with a question or a problem, and it’s my job to help you. Maybe you have an academic issue, or a personal problem, or maybe you just don’t know which extracurricular activity to try. If I can help you, I will. If it’s out of my wheelhouse, I’ll find the right person for you to speak to. Odell can be so confusing at first, and the point of the advisor is to help you feel comfortable right away. Odell is your home now, and we’re your family, your school family, that is. I want you to know, Bel, that you have a support system in me. I’m here for you.”

      Such kind words would have reached her no matter who said them. But to have Mr. Donovan say them—wow. His sympathy hit her hard; it released something. She’d been holding her feelings in for weeks now. Acting like she didn’t care that her grandmother sent them away. Hanging out with a fast crowd because she’d fallen in with them at the beginning, acting the role of wild child to keep up, but having big doubts about it. Fighting with Rose—God, she hated to fight with her sister, but ever since they’d gotten here, things between them felt so wrong. Suddenly it was all too much. Bel’s lower lip started to quiver. She looked at Heath for one long, terrible second, and burst into tears.

      “Oh,” Heath said, flushing. “Jesus, I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry. I know you lost your mother. I should have been more careful. I was only trying to make you feel better, but I put my foot in it.”

      “No, it’s okay,” she whispered, but her shoulders were heaving, and she couldn’t stop crying.

      Heath handed her a napkin from the table, and she blotted at her eyes, her body wracked with sobs. He looked at her with such concern that Bel saw the tragedy of her plight reflected in his beautiful eyes, and the worst moments flooded back. Her mother’s face when she told them the diagnosis. Seeing her mother get thinner, lose her hair. The day her mother died. Hearing her grandmother tell them they had to go away to school. Being mean to Rose in the dining hall, feeling terrible about it, and having Rose refuse to speak to her afterward. Now she really couldn’t stop crying. Heath dragged his chair around the small table, until he sat beside her, an inch away.

      “Bel,” he said softly.

      She looked up at him, and she realized she wasn’t afraid of him anymore, or nervous around him. He felt like a friend.

      “I’m sorry,” she said, through tears. “I’m embarrassed to flake out on you like this. But my life is just—It’s so fucking dark.”

      He glanced around at the empty patio, then reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “You can tell me. Nobody’s here. You can say anything.”

      “Why did both my parents have to die?” she said. “Why me? Like, who does that happen to? First my dad when I was little. Then my mom. It’s so unfair.”

      “I agree. Very unfair.”

      “I’m being punished.”

      “That’s not true. How could it be? You’re a child. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

      “I’m ungrateful. That’s what Rose says. I ought to be glad our grandmother took us in, and sent us here, but I’m not. I’m angry.”

      “There’s nothing wrong with how you feel,” he said. “It’s completely normal.”

      “What I’m really saying is, I don’t like Odell. I actually kind of hate it.”

      “I understand. This place can grind you down. Make you feel like you’re not good enough. It did that to me, at first.”

      “Really?”

      “Yes. It took me a long time to prove myself here. To find my place.”

      “Wait. You went to school here?”

      “You didn’t know? I was actually very happy at Odell—not right away, but eventually. Right? I mean, I came back to teach, though sometimes I think I’m still trying to show them. Maybe that’s why I came back. I could tell you stories about what it was like, what I went through. I’ve been low, myself. I’ve been so low. You can’t imagine.”

      She looked up into his eyes, holding her breath, afraid he would stop confiding in her.

      “Tell me,” she whispered.

      “I shouldn’t. I can’t—well, maybe I’ll tell you another time. But believe me when I say that bad things have happened in my life. Here at Odell, and elsewhere. Things that almost pulled me under, that I thought I would never recover from. But I did. I got past it. And you can, too. You remind me of myself, you know.”

      “I do? How?”

      “Maybe I’m projecting. But the way you’re so quiet in class, and yet, I can tell how deeply you’re feeling things. You’re a dreamer. So am I.”

      “Yes. You see. You understand me.” Her eyes filled with tears again.

      “That gives me some insight into how to help you, Bel. You need something to dream about. A focus, something special to work toward. If you could find that, I think you could be successful here. I think you could even be happy. Will you try?”

      “I want to, Heath. I worry that I’m not up to it,” Bel said.

      There, she’d used his name. Was he going to rebuke her? But no, he took СКАЧАТЬ