hummingbird
Meteorite
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2017
- Location
- Canada
There was something altogether weird about sitting in the office, even as a senior, it didn't matter where you stood legally, if you were a student you were a kid and that was how the teachers saw you, there were always one or two that put some effort into treating their students like adults but it was only for show, they were the authority in the classroom and had no problem letting anyone know it when they were provoked enough. Councilor Davies was bad for that, for trying to act like the students that sat in his office were adults, but the way he'd talk undid the whole illusion, he always tried so hard to sound calm, to keep his voice deep and soothing, and acted like he had all the answers to the mysteries of life, used armchair psychobabble buzzwords like validation, projection and defense mechanism.
He loved to put students under his microscope too, to over-analyze, judge, pigeonhole and diagnose everything they did, nervous about an upcoming exam? You're suffering from anxiety, here are a few exercises to help with that, bored in class? You've got ADHD, here are a few exercises to help with that, sad? Depression! And here are a few exercises to help with that. Rosie wondered what exercises he'd suggest to keep her from getting into a fight in the middle of a game and costing her team it's second loss that season, what he'd suggest that'd make Coach K's raging fury burn any less, if Councilor Davies would have some breathing exercises he'd tell her to do and supposedly save her from the firestorm she was going to walk into when she got home.
When he finally came out to fetch her he had a stone cold expression plastered on his pudgy face and was toweling his glistening brow off with paper towel.
"Well Miss Tavares--" he said and eyed the ice she was holding over the knuckles of her right hand, "You really blew it." he said and shook his head at her, threw the paper towel into the secretary's wastebasket and took in a deep breath.
"You're off the team." he said matter-of-factly and Rosie's brows shot up as a brick of disbelief fell through her, "And you're done with basketball with the Spartans."
"Wh--wait, cos-cos of that?" Rosie asked and couldn't stop tears from welling up in her eyes, angrily slapped them away and stood, "You can't do that!" she shouted desperately but his stern expression didn't soften.
"You savagely attacked a seventeen year old girl, what did you think was going to happen?" he asked and made himself emotionally inaccessible by crossing his arms over his chest, raised his chin, made her feel small, pathetic and helpless.
"I don't know--" Rosie said, her voice cracking, "That I'd be suspended for a few days or something?"
"You are suspended." he shot back, unphased by her gasping, pleading sobbing, "But you're not getting a holiday, you'll be serving your suspension here in school with Coach K." he said, pointing at the ground between them.
"Does he know about this? He can't, he'd never let--" she said quickly but Councilor Davies cut her short.
"He's been told." he said as if that was an end to it but Rosie wasn't having it, parted her lips to argue but he didn't let her, held up his hand, "And so has your worker." he said and Rosie felt sick, lost all the color in her face.
"Oh my God, why? What if he kicks me out?" she asked urgently but he only shrugged at her, said she should have thought about consequences like that before she lost her temper.
"You can't be serious!" she yelled, "They'll put me on the street!" she screamed and he held up his hands, told her to calm down.
"Hit the showers Rosie." he said coldly, "Before you make this worse for yourself." he said and stared her down for a moment before he took a few steps back and returned to his office.
Rosie ran her hands through her pixie short black hair and pulled, looked at all the faces of the faculty and a handful of students that had overheard everything and felt herself spinning, grabbed her ice and ran.
"Pix!" she heard Dylan, her boyfriend, yell after her when she came flying out of the office but didn't stop, ran to the ladies locker room where her things were and found the rest of her team long gone.
Given a moment of privacy she let the full extent of her grief hit, felt it wind her, make her gasp for air like she was drowning, made her knees weak and her legs tremble, forced her to sit down on the lengthy benches between the orange lockers and clutch at her heaving stomach. She didn't fight the sick feeling that returned and coughed up bile, spat it out onto the floor and rubbed her mucus saturated nose on her arm, snorted and made herself choke, the coughing spurt hurt and made her cry out, her voice sounded broken, like she had swallowed razor blades.
She heard a knock from outside and knew it was Dylan, screeched for him to go away and drew her legs up, smothered her mess of a face into them to try and hide her wailing but heard the knock again and hugged her legs so tight it hurt, prayed he'd get the hint and leave her alone; he had to know they were done, had to, she was done too, everything was, absolutely everything.
He loved to put students under his microscope too, to over-analyze, judge, pigeonhole and diagnose everything they did, nervous about an upcoming exam? You're suffering from anxiety, here are a few exercises to help with that, bored in class? You've got ADHD, here are a few exercises to help with that, sad? Depression! And here are a few exercises to help with that. Rosie wondered what exercises he'd suggest to keep her from getting into a fight in the middle of a game and costing her team it's second loss that season, what he'd suggest that'd make Coach K's raging fury burn any less, if Councilor Davies would have some breathing exercises he'd tell her to do and supposedly save her from the firestorm she was going to walk into when she got home.
When he finally came out to fetch her he had a stone cold expression plastered on his pudgy face and was toweling his glistening brow off with paper towel.
"Well Miss Tavares--" he said and eyed the ice she was holding over the knuckles of her right hand, "You really blew it." he said and shook his head at her, threw the paper towel into the secretary's wastebasket and took in a deep breath.
"You're off the team." he said matter-of-factly and Rosie's brows shot up as a brick of disbelief fell through her, "And you're done with basketball with the Spartans."
"Wh--wait, cos-cos of that?" Rosie asked and couldn't stop tears from welling up in her eyes, angrily slapped them away and stood, "You can't do that!" she shouted desperately but his stern expression didn't soften.
"You savagely attacked a seventeen year old girl, what did you think was going to happen?" he asked and made himself emotionally inaccessible by crossing his arms over his chest, raised his chin, made her feel small, pathetic and helpless.
"I don't know--" Rosie said, her voice cracking, "That I'd be suspended for a few days or something?"
"You are suspended." he shot back, unphased by her gasping, pleading sobbing, "But you're not getting a holiday, you'll be serving your suspension here in school with Coach K." he said, pointing at the ground between them.
"Does he know about this? He can't, he'd never let--" she said quickly but Councilor Davies cut her short.
"He's been told." he said as if that was an end to it but Rosie wasn't having it, parted her lips to argue but he didn't let her, held up his hand, "And so has your worker." he said and Rosie felt sick, lost all the color in her face.
"Oh my God, why? What if he kicks me out?" she asked urgently but he only shrugged at her, said she should have thought about consequences like that before she lost her temper.
"You can't be serious!" she yelled, "They'll put me on the street!" she screamed and he held up his hands, told her to calm down.
"Hit the showers Rosie." he said coldly, "Before you make this worse for yourself." he said and stared her down for a moment before he took a few steps back and returned to his office.
Rosie ran her hands through her pixie short black hair and pulled, looked at all the faces of the faculty and a handful of students that had overheard everything and felt herself spinning, grabbed her ice and ran.
"Pix!" she heard Dylan, her boyfriend, yell after her when she came flying out of the office but didn't stop, ran to the ladies locker room where her things were and found the rest of her team long gone.
Given a moment of privacy she let the full extent of her grief hit, felt it wind her, make her gasp for air like she was drowning, made her knees weak and her legs tremble, forced her to sit down on the lengthy benches between the orange lockers and clutch at her heaving stomach. She didn't fight the sick feeling that returned and coughed up bile, spat it out onto the floor and rubbed her mucus saturated nose on her arm, snorted and made herself choke, the coughing spurt hurt and made her cry out, her voice sounded broken, like she had swallowed razor blades.
She heard a knock from outside and knew it was Dylan, screeched for him to go away and drew her legs up, smothered her mess of a face into them to try and hide her wailing but heard the knock again and hugged her legs so tight it hurt, prayed he'd get the hint and leave her alone; he had to know they were done, had to, she was done too, everything was, absolutely everything.