She went in and sat behind her desk.

I took one of the two plush seats set up in the corner of her office. A large green plant sat on the table between them, and I reached out to touch it.

The plant was plastic.

She typed for a moment on her computer before turning the screen off.

I gestured to the plant. “It’s new.”

“Administration decided we need to be green and healthy and alive. So…” She made a face, positioning her chair so she faced me directly. She folded her hands over her lap. “There you go. That’s my contribution.”

“You should name him Gus.”

Her head fell forward an inch. “Name my plant?”

“Yes.”

“Gus?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She straightened her skirt, smoothing her hands over the edge. “I have a male plant named Gus. I feel like I should formally meet my own fake plant.”

I picked it up, holding it out to her. “Here you go.”

Her eyes went to mine. “Are you joking?”

Yes. I shrugged. “You’re a counselor. Isn’t doing crazy shit part of the job description?”

“Crazy shit?” She sucked in her breath, shaking her head. “Yes. This is it. I am back to work. Summer is over, and Bren Monroe is swearing in my office. It’s a normal Tuesday like all the other years. And yeah.” She glanced at her wrist. “That took two minutes. We’re back in our old roles.”

“You’re the one who has a fake plant.”

“Because I will kill a real one, and come on—I’m doing the best I can. I’m following the rules.”

“You got mad at me for saying ‘crazy shit.’ You made me talk to an empty chair last year. Three times,” I reminded her. “I had a fight with an empty chair. It was air, and I got pissed off.”

She smiled. “Well, the chair talked back. I heard it too.”

I started laughing. Then I stopped because I didn’t laugh—with her especially.

“You can laugh. Even Gus thought that was funny.” She gestured to the plant still in my hands.

“You should go on tour. Be a professional comedian. You could be famous.”

She didn’t even blink. “Lame attempt at getting me to quit my job. We’d still be doing this, even if I did hand in the towel.”

I lifted my shoulder. “It was a long shot.” I scratched behind my ear. “I know the whole premise is that I’m crazy and that’s why I get sent here, but I only feel nuts when I’m actually in this office. Life makes perfect sense to me outside of this square box.”

“Perfect sense?”

I nodded. I would back up what I said. She didn’t know about the firefly.

“You lost your mother when you were eight. Your brother was basically nonexistent in your life. And your dad, who had an intense anger problem, went to prison two years ago. I have already heard about two incidents you were a catalyst for—two potentially violent incidents—and the rumor around school is that there was a huge crew fight at Manny’s in Fallen Crest last night. No one had to tell me you were a part of that too. That’s three incidences in two days, Bren.”

She leaned back in her chair, waving her hand between us. “You and me, we’ve been doing this dance for a while. Two years, to be exact. You were mandated to come to sessions with me when your dad went in and you went to your brother’s custody, but we’d already met a few times after your mom died. You have stonewalled me at every turn. Isn’t it time you start talking? Three fights in two days. That’s a lot of pain to hold on to. You have to be exhausted.”

Not on a bad day.

Not on a good day.

I grinned at her. “It was one fight. The other two things didn’t happen.”

“That makes it better?”

“Yes,” I shot back.

“Okay.” She crossed one leg over the other. Leaning back and rolling her shoulders, she put on the counselor stare. She was now ready to try to read inside of me, pull out all my insides and make me examine them along with her.

Fuck that.

But I held my tongue as she said, “Round one.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“What were you talking about with Alex Ryerson in the parking lot this morning?”

“We were finalizing our friendship handshake.”

“You’re lying.”

I grinned. “Do you want a friendship handshake too? You can’t have the same one as Alex. He’ll get jealous.”

She rolled her eyes, and re-folded her hands on her lap. “Round two.”

We were playing Twenty Questions?

She narrowed her eyes. “You skipped the second half of your classes yesterday. Why?”

My grin faded, but I shrugged and leaned back in my chair. “I got sick.”

“It was the first day. It’s one of the easiest days of the year. What student skips the first day?” She rolled her eyes at her own question.

“I told you, I was sick.”

“You might as well be honest with me.”

I gritted my teeth. “I was sick.”

Her eyes fixed on me again. “You didn’t answer the other question. Here’s a new one. Are you still dating Drake Ryerson?”

That wasn’t her question. She knew that answer.

“What does my love life have to do with this? Drake’s in college.”

She tugged at her skirt. “So you’re not together?”

I didn’t answer. She didn’t need to know that stuff. She already knew too much.

She frowned, her head tilted to the side, but she let it go. “I’ve heard his cousin transferred here, and I also heard he’s taken an interest in you. Is that right?”

I leaned forward and deadpanned, “I’ve missed talking to you.” Not a flicker of emotion. I didn’t blink. “So much.”

She didn’t either. “I heard he was talking to your crew yesterday morning.” She watched me intently. “He looks a lot like Drake.”

“Drake’s prettier.” I didn’t look away. “The new guy helped me write a poem for you. It’s from all of us, my crew and him.”

“Do you like him?” She broke eye contact now, glancing down to her lap before looking back up.

I cocked my head to the side. “I titled the poem ‘The Badger Named Gus’.”

She paused, smiling faintly, and nodded. “Okay. That was funny. Round three.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “I know you live for this, so don’t even pretend you’re tired.”

I made a face. “Who’s pretending? I’m happy I’m not fighting with an empty chair. My life’s complete. I met Gus.”

“No kidding. I met Gus too. I had no clue who he was. I just thought he was a regular fake plant like all the others.”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Gus is a troubled fake plant. That’s why you bought him. You were drawn to him. Gus pulled you in.”

“Gus is a fucking manipulator then.” She glanced at the door, but no one was out there. “I’m not supposed to curse, but it’s Tuesday and Bren Monroe is here, so I’m taking advantage.”

“I’m going to tell on you.”

“And I’ll tell them you’re a fucking liar.” She smiled. “And yeah, I’ll say the F word because here’s a secret: We’re all adults. We all swear.”

“And yet you don’t want me to curse.”

“Because here’s another secret that most everyone knows except you: You’re not an adult!”

I felt slapped by that one.

“What’s going on here?” I gestured between us. “I thought we were joking—”

“You were being a smartass.”

“I thought we had this camaraderie—”

“You were making fun of my professionalism.”

“I thought we were getting past the surface walls and going to start braiding each other’s hair.”

“When I want a haircut, I’ll ask you.” Her eyes moved to my pocket. “I know where you keep your knife.”

That one shut me up. I wasn’t supposed to have it in my pocket. I always did, though.

She waited, but when I kept quiet, she tried again.

“Have we done the dance where you push me away, and I counter with my sarcastic wit because that’s the only common ground I can get with you? Can we cut through the bullshit now?”

I rubbed at my neck. “I don’t know. I’m still hurting from your comments.”