CHAPTER 3
The slip came through the next morning in homeroom. I hadn't expected it to be this early. Jeez, what was wrong with these people? Did they think I had a couple of loose marbles and I was an urgent case? Probably yes.
It was a small slip of paper the size of my palm. The writing was neat and slightly slanting, the ink black and dense in some parts as if the author had made sure that it was readable. The writing gave an air of someone old and probably professional.
Great. Now an old loser who had nothing better to do than treat some kids mental illness was treating me.
Coz that's what it was. I looked it up on the internet at home, and it said a counsellor was somebody, usually a professional, who helps others with personal, social, or psychological problems. Then, I looked up what 'psychological' means and it came up with affecting or intended to affect the mind or mental processes.
See? They thought I was in need of mental treatment!
Name: Susannah Simon
Date: 10th October.
Time: 1.20pm – 2.30pm
Counsellor: Dr. Jesse De Silva
Room: Counselling office. Behind the Principles Office, turn left and you will find a small cottage like place. Please ring the 'counsellor' bell and not the 'Behaviour Support' bell.
10th of October . . . huh, that was today. The nutter gave me instructions to get there.
Yeah right. Like I was going.
Cee Cee whistled under her breath and whispered, "Dr. Jesse De Silva. Ooh, they say he's hot." She read the name repeatedly from over my shoulder.
"Yeah, hot in the head." I muttered, tapping my temple for extra effect. Kelly Prescott passed by, the smell of Chanel 5 (A/N: I have no idea how to spell It. sorry if it is wrong.) overpowering. My instincts told me to pull away from the smell before I was suffocated, but Kelly leaned forward, her jacket open, revealing tanned skin and a long gold necklace.
"Ooh, Simon has to see a counsellor. Sucker." She purred the last word and laughed, pulling away and walking out of the room into the hot courtyard. I hissed under my breath and squeezed my hands into fists, resisting the urge to knock her block off. Growling, I stood up and slammed the chair so hard back in its place that it rang against the table.
Adam laughed and took Cee Cee's hand, pulling her to their first lesson.
I looked back down at the slip of paper. Cee Cee had said he was 'hot'. What if it was true? And what if I fell for this guy big time?
Paul would kill me.
No, he would kill my counsellor, and then kill me and then bring me back to clean up the mess. Because Paul Slater could do that. He wasn't a mediator. He was a shifter, which meant he could go anywhere he wanted as long as he pictured that particular place and he'll be there, and it also meant that he could get ghosts working for him. He had Hell's Angel's working for him!
Sighing, I headed for my first lesson, clutching the piece of paper tightly in my hand.
Glancing at the slip and then back again, I spotted the bell spelling 'counsellor'. I pressed it and watched the small green light flash three times.
When Paul heard that I needed to see a counsellor, he laughed. A proper boyfriend wouldn't have laughed. He would have asked why I was going. But Paul wasn't a proper boyfriend. He was a life sucking scumbag. I can't even remember why I accepted to go out with him! Maybe I had fallen in love with him when I was an innocent teenager who didn't know what he was. He had trapped me in his spell, and I couldn't get rid of him now.
The door opened and a pretty girl smiled at me. Her badge read Haley Montrose.
"Er, hi? Um, I have an appointment with . . ." I held the slip of paper. She laughed and took my arm, pulling me in.
"You are here to see Jesse De Silva, yes? A great doctor. You are very lucky to have him." She sat me down on a soft armchair.
"Would you like anything to drink? Or eat?" she asked, smiling at me. Her blue eyes sparkled as if she really meant what she said about my doctor.
"Er, no thanks."
"OK. Dr. De Silva will call you in a minute. He has a patient and is running late." I nodded and she smiled again, heading for a small desk piled with papers. She picked up a pen and started to sign the papers, letting them fall gently into a box situated near her chair.
The place wasn't a cottage. Not even, close. It was a small white building, taking up the space behind the principles office – which wasn't much.
The place was . . . home like. A coffee table was near the door with magazines and leaflets. There was a wooden door a few meters away from the desk, from which I could hear the murmur of voices.
I jumped as I heard the phone rang.
"Dr. De Silva's office, how can I help you? . . . Oh, no sir. Jesse is with a patient right now, would you like to leave a message? Um, I don't know when he can get back at you. This is a busy week and- '' she was cut off as an angry voice shouted from the other end of the line.
"Well yes I understand. . . Of course, of course . . . yes, I will let him know . . . yes, OK. Thank you Mr. De Silva." She put the phone back in the cradle, and started working again.
The door opened and a boy of about my age came out, handing a slip to the secretary who signed it. The boy left calmly, but slammed the door behind him making sure that we knew he was NOT calm.
The counsellor came out, running his tanned hands through his black hair and handing a letter to his secretary, who blushed and laughed shyly.
He then turned the full power of his gaze on me and gestured to me to go inside.
I walked in and sat on one of the chairs in front of the big desk. A phone, papers, pens, pencils and other items were scattered around the desk. Only one spot was clear enough at the corner of the desk where a laptop was placed, a small green lighting blinking consistently. Sighing, I leant back in my chair and crossed my legs grumpily. My doctor walked in, a pile of papers in his arms that he then dropped on the floor by his chair. He sat in the seat on the other side of the desk and sorted through some papers, each one with my name on it.
"So, you are Susannah Simon. Do you know why you have been sent here?" he asked, his voice warm and soft, lulling my agitated nerves. I nodded and swallowed. He was inexcusably gorgeous. Black hair, dark eyes, his eye lashes were longer than mine, and I was already trying to take a peek of what was going on under that white shirt he was wearing.
"Er, Sister Lou Lou said you have to rid me of my sins and the evil that has possessed me." I said with a snort. Dr. De Silva laughed warmly and tapped the screen of his laptop knowingly.
"Of course, Miss. Simon. You see, hitting someone round the head with a four hundred hardback book with apparent no reason did make you seem a little . . . scary. But this isn't the first time, is it? You have kicked, punched, beat, tripped, stole, and humiliated these particular people a number of times before they contacted me to stop it. To stop you." He smiled at me and I glared out of the large window behind him.
"I did it with reason, sir. I do not go round and beat the crap out of someone with 'apparent no reason'! Do you see me in that role? Dopey totally provoked me with that party!" Dr. De Silva laughed at my fuming, leaning forward conspicuously.
"And were you provoked when you slammed Kelly Prescott's head into her locker?" I growled and my fists clenched.
"Look she's a cow and I HATE her, OK? If you have ever hated someone, then you'll know! Paul and I had gone to a party – I didn't wan tot go but didn't have a choice – and Kelly was there. She got off with him and then when we were in school she rubbed it in my face and started throwing little notes around the school, taping them on lockers and stuff. The notes said stuff like 'frigid with her own boyfriend' and 'Queen Slut with other guys, you know what I mean.' It was all very Mean Girls. I cornered her and couldn't help it. I didn't care that she got off with my boyfriend but the things she said were the things that drove me to hit her." Dr. De Silva frowned and wrote something on a pad of paper.
"Why wouldn't you care that your boyfriend got off with someone in front of your very eyes and with someone you loath so much?" he murmured.
"I don't love him and he can cheat on me how much he wants. I will never love him." I hissed. This session was really starting to get on my nerves.
"Then why are you with him? This doesn't make very much sense, Miss. Simon. I have learnt from experience that you should tell he or she what you really feel. Whether it is good or bad." He had an accent that made my insides melt with something I have never experienced before. He was very American- Latino. My best friend Gina back in Brooklyn would have planted a smacker on him right there and then.
"Huh, it's not that easy. I tried once and the only think that resulted was a bruised cheek bone and sprained wrist." I muttered, hoping he didn't hear.
Unfortunately he did.
"He beats you." It wasn't a question. He scribbled something else on the pad and grimaced as he typed something on his computer.
"Yes." I answered his not-a-question question.
"Did you tell anyone?" his voice was serious now, not that warm laughing voice he had welcomed me with.
"What's the point?" I hissed under my breath.
"I asked you a question and I will be grateful if I get an answer, Miss. Simon." The voice he used frightened me.
"No, I didn't. There is absolutely no point in telling anyone. He can bribe anyone I tell with huge amounts of money." I stood up and swept my bag off the floor. As I headed for the door, Dr. De Silva touched my arm.
"Miss. Simon, I am not trying to be nosy here, OK? I am just doing my job and I don't think that what this Paul person is doing is correct. I am trying to help you. Please sit down." His dark eyes were round and apologetic. I tried to think of a way of escaping that didn't involve him getting hurt.
At the end, I sat back down. And the questioning went back on.