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The School Counselor (Part 1)
Hiya! A cool idea popped into my head. Enjoy! ---------------------------------------------------------------- *Monday, April 7, California* (this is the Dangerous Era) It was the typical morning return to work after this year's Spring Break: High school children, with their young minds, attempting to impress fellow schoolmates by carelessly driving over the speed limit for the school parking lot and honking their horns, which happened to annoy me; children slowly recovering from the fun and schooless days gained during the break; and it was time for everyone in school to return to their work, in preparation for the last stretch of the school year before the ultimate break: Summer Break. "Goodbye, Spring Break," I groaned, already missing the pleasure of not having to awake at five in the morning for a relaxing week. "Hello, stress and work...ugh" I worked at Hilton Creek High School (made up high school) in Santa Barbara, California, as a guidance counselor. For many years I have associated and dealt with students with every level of issues, from whether they have relationship issues with friends and family members, to whether they have been abused, bullied, or even threatened to be killed. I have cried with children in some cases. Some stories of their touched me. But I also helped lives and helped students have actual conversations with parents, to help them release and expression the secrets that lay deep within. I had also dealt with children with disciplinary and anger issues. I began my returning day with a cup of coffee and a cranberry muffin, what my breakfast usually was. As I took a large bite of the muffin, my counseling aide, Marcus Summers, appeared at my office door witth a child, who was snatched by the arm. "Mr. Jackson, we have a problem," Marcus said firmly, as if he was aggrivated and angry with the child hung at his arm. "What is it, Marcus?" "Well, this morning, I caught this young lady engaging in a fight with two senior boys, and this is her fourth fight this year. We just came from the principal's office." I looked over to this young lady. She had this look on her face that I would never erase from my brain. She had a rebellious and belligerent face, yet her face had a natural innocence; her face was so naturally vulnerable, it was uncanny. This young girl was obviously hurting and her anger and violence was an apparent result. She was indeed a beautiful young lady, no older than seventeen, and her appearance astounded me. Her deep hazel diamonds for eyes gleamed at me beautifully, yet angrily, like a violent cat in heat. Sandy brown hair swept across her back like a beautiful caramel stream. Her beauty caused me to be speechless. "Um....Marcus, just leave her with me," I said, without taking once single glance at him; my eyes were wearily focused on this gorgeous girl. "Ok," he said, "but if she causes you any trouble, let me know. I'll straighten her out," he said, gripping her arm tighter, and giving her a deep evil glare. This girl was wearing a Blue hoodie that said "San Diego," on it, plain baby blue jeans with large holes torn into them, and navy blue flip-flops. "Please sit," I said kindly. She had done what I had demanded, and once she sat, she peered down at herself with a look of shame and regret for her unecessary violence. "So, why were you fighting, young lady?" The beautiful girl lifted up her head to glance at me, but again dropped her head down. She hesitated to tell. "Please tell me." She had tried to tell by opening her mouth, but so much shame climbed over her, the words turned into ice. "Well," she began, "I fought those two guys...because they talked about my parents...and I wasn't having it...so I threw the first punch...and we set it off..." Such a sweet soundly voice the young lady had. Sweet as strawberries being towered and toppled with sugar. It was hard to believe that the beautiful girl with the voice and appearance of innocence could ever be a part of this violence. "What were they saying about your parents?" "Well...they're not my real parents. I-I was adopted when I was six...and my parents are not the typical parents. You see, I was adopted by a gay couple, and in this school, gay people are looked down upon, so I tried to keep it a secret, but people eventually found out, and some people started to talk shit about them, and I beat their ass...I'm not tolerating that shit." "What's your name, young lady?" "Helena. Helena Michaels." "And what grade are you in?" "Eleventh." "Tell me about you and your parents," I said. I wanted to know more about this young lady, since I never knew her before. "Well, my biological mom was a singer at nightclubs and stuff, but she started to do drugs...and started to drink...and she was also depressed..so she killed herself when I was three..so I went with my dad...but he was a total asshole and I hated him. He would molest me and rape me...and threaten me...and he left the house filthy, and he would starve us..so one day police and CPS came to see the house, and they put my dad in jail and put me in foster care. Then my parents took me into their home and they fought for me to be their daughter since my father wanted me back...and I told them about my father and what he did to me...and they were so horrified, they didn't want me to go back with him, so they adopted me. They are the best people I had ever met, and I don't know what I would do without them," she started crying. She was crying out her anger, "I love them so much...and for somebody to talk shit about the people who made my life wonderful..." she started sobbing, "it pisses me off." My heart went out for this poor girl. I needed to help her.... To Be Continued...
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