Walking through Degrassi's halls once again was both embarrassing and triumphant for Esme. Embarrassing because she had to face a school full of people who knew some of the most intimate details of her mental health and her past thanks to that kid, Vijay, who had started a gossip blog over the summer and dished all of the facts and rumors he could find to an audience of way too many people with way too much time on their hands. Triumphant, though, because she got a second chance. She hit rock bottom, but she was bouncing back. The act alone of her walking through the front doors of the school was a bounce back, a step up, and a move in what seemed to be the right direction. Forward. Toward the rest of Esme's life, whatever crappy or wonderful things it may hold.
There were a few faces she recognized in the hallway as she searched for her new locker. Lola and Saad were leaned up against some lockers basically as close to kissing as two people can be without technically having their faces mashed up against one another. Esme took note of the interesting couple and wondered how that happened. Vijay had reported the two of them getting together and Esme had admittedly stalked Lola's instagram and had many, many pictures of Saad, who Esme still thought of as a bit of a weirdo, shoved down her throat. She also saw Shay, who was noticeably alone, and Esme wondered if the two of them had a chance at friendship or if the whole Tiny-Zig connection had sealed Esme's fate and caused Shay to be permanently poisoned against Esme. The last face she saw that she recognized in the hallway before she reached her new locker was the guidance counselor lady, Ms. Grell.
Esme and Ms. Grell exchanged a glance, and Esme did her best non-verbal attempt at saying "please just leave me alone for right now", but the message didn't come across. Ms. Grell approached Esme and spoke in a soft voice that Esme found kind of annoying, honestly. She understood that it was Grell's purpose to be approachable and soft in order to help people solve their problems or whatever, but Esme had dealt with enough therapists and counselors in her life to know that the people who will really help you change your life don't feel the need to be all soft and fake. They'll meet you where you are. But for the sake of being a decent person, she humored the interaction.
"Hi Esme, how was your summer?" Grell stepped lightly, not diving too deep.
"My summer was fine. I feel equipped to handle my senior year and I know I can better myself if I stay focused and on path." Esme recited a line that she had rehearsed if she was confronted with an interaction that she just didn't quite have the energy for.
Grell clearly could tell that the response wasn't genuine or spontaneous, but she let it go, giving Esme a sympathetic look. "I know you're probably tired of that question." She said, and Esme nodded. "Okay, well if you ever need someone to talk to, or if you just want to get out of class and take a breather, maybe eat some snacks... you know where my office is." The guidance counselor said, and promptly turned away and departed, leaving clicking noises on the linoleum floors due to the heels she was wearing.
Esme exhaled. That interaction had gone much better than she expected. All she had to do was make it through about six more hours. And then the rest of the school year. And then the rest of her life. No big deal.
Once Esme unloaded her excess stuff into her new locker and grabbed the books necessary for her first class, she headed down the hall with her head high. The first class of the day was almost a surefire breeze. Math with Mr. Armstrong. She'd breezed through this exact class the year before. That is, until she stopped showing up to class for a month straight. But before that, she was absolutely dominating that class, and the rest of her classes. Straight A's. She hoped that she wouldn't have any issues maintaining the same GPA and her recovery at the same time. She knew life wasn't going to be easy, but she was going to try her best to make it manageable.
Esme made eye contact with Mr. Armstrong as she walked through the doorway. She was the first to arrive, and it looked like Armstrong had something to say. "Esme, a moment?" He motioned for her to approach, and she got ready for whatever 'I'm not going to let you slip up' speech she was about to receive. She was sure it was only the first of many as she appeared in the classrooms of the same teachers she'd ditched class after class of. But Armstrong's expression wasn't hardened or frustrated. It was... sympathetic. "I know you're great at math. You're one of the smartest minds I've had in recent years." He started. "I wanted to ask you... Is there anything you could be pursuing during our class sessions that would serve you better? I'm happy to give you special privileges during this class session if you can prove that you're doing something productive and beneficial to you and/or other people. And of course, turn in your homework and take the exams. I can't let you do no math work. I've gotta have stuff for the record."
Esme was rendered nearly speechless by the offer. It made her wish she was passionate about something, like music or art or curing cancer or something. Because she searched her brain for something productive and helpful she could be doing during this class period, and her mind went pretty blank. There was nothing passionate on the tip of her tongue, which honestly shook her. She hadn't examined herself like this in a while. She looked to Armstrong, who was watching Esme and awaiting an answer. She felt the pressure building, and noticed a few students had begun shuffling into the classroom, so she put a bandaid on the situation. "Can I have a week to figure out exactly what I'd want to do?" She asked, trying to make it seem like she was just so overwhelmed with ideas and she couldn't figure out which one was the best, but she wasn't sure if her acting was very convincing. Armstrong nodded, and she quickly thanked him for the chance to do something other than sit through a class she could probably teach almost as effectively as Armstrong could. And with that, she headed to the seat she had sat in the year before instinctually. It brought her back for a minute, remembering how things were just one year earlier, but she shook it off. She had something to focus her mind on now. What was going to be her new passion?