It Could Be You

Chapter 11

By: StalkerDex

(Author's Note: Here's another chapter! I've been quite busy between a fifty hour work week and I'm moving as well…hope it's worth the wait, even if it's short.)

"How are you feeling?" Mr. Mackey asked, cautiously eyeing the young man before him. He had trudged into his office on his own, dirty, eyes glazed over with dark circles beneath them. He looked tired and, perhaps, grief ridden. He wasn't okay.

"I didn't go home last night," he stated as he took a drag of the cigarette he'd lit himself. It was about ten A.M., he hadn't bothered to go to his first few classes.

"Mmmkay, and where is that? Do you mean the Marsh's?"

Normally, Craig would've smirked, scoffed and had himself a field day with that comment; it was the perfect set up to create an uncomfortable environment for the quirky school counselor. However, he wasn't in that sort of mood. Instead, he allowed the stale, thick air between them to remain tense and stand offish. This was therapeutic warfare; he wasn't about to lose.

"Yeah…I didn't go back to them," he responded flatly, his eyes dull and despondent.

Mr. Mackey nodded, his thumbs twiddling quietly with one another as he struggled to figure out the unstable adolescent before him.

"Where did you sleep?" he questioned, deciding to take a step-by-step approach.

"In my truck."

The counselor nodded once more before sighing and leaning back in his seat. Perhaps a more casual disposition would open Craig up. He was pleased to see his blue eyes focus on him, the noise of his adjustment catching his attention.

"Mmmkay, and where was your truck?" he urged, knowing damn well something significant had happened to him last night.

Craig leaned back in his chair a bit, seeming to mock the counselor's new demeanor. He chose to ignore it, knowing Craig was trying to provoke him. He caught a slight twinge in his lip, showing his dissatisfaction at the lack of response. Perhaps he was getting under his skin; this would be good.

"I parked it in the driveway of my parents house."

Mr. Mackey swallowed. He was getting somewhere.

"Did you go inside?"

Craig was pleased to see the counselor intrigued by his response. He wasn't lying though. That wasn't part of the game.

"No."

The counselor put his elbow on the arm of his chair and pressed his finger to his forehead, staring at the teenager before him. He wanted to continue prodding, but he also wanted Craig to acknowledge the fact that he wanted to divulge. He stared ahead at him expectantly, causing Craig to suck down another healthy drag of his cigarette before leaning forward. His crystal blue eyes burned with intensity as he stared Mr. Mackey down, his voice harsh as he spoke.

"Don't you want to know what I did there?"

The counselor nodded, remaining cool and calm…mirroring Craig's usual attitude. He could tell it was driving the kid nuts, though he too remained somewhat stable.

"I jerked off…right in the driveway. I fucked myself until I came and fell asleep."

Craig leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, staring at his counselor expectantly. Much to his distaste, there wasn't much of a response.

"Why did you do that?" was all he decided to say.

Craig furrowed his brow, growing further displeased with the situation. Mr. Mackey had figured him out.

"Because…I haven't been laid in a while. The girl I want won't fuck me," he said, frustration starting to become apparent in his tone.

"Mmmkay, and why is that?"

Craig shifted his weight a bit, almost becoming uncomfortable. Mr. Mackey watched, quietly observing as his demeanor switched from arrogant to cautious and guarded.

"Because…uh…it wouldn't be a good idea."

Mr. Mackey rubbed his finger across his brow before sighing once more and leaning forward, his elbows safely returned to his desk. Craig swallowed hard as he mulled over what he'd done. He'd texted Wendy, shortly after his meet with Clyde, and told her he didn't want to hook up at Stark's Pond, from which point he proceeded to his parents to wallow.

"Who is she, Craig?"

Craig's crystal blue eyes, some life returning to them, began to waver.

"Wendy Testaburger. I think the rest is pretty fuckin' obvious," he said quietly, his gaze falling down to the cigarette in his hand.

Mr. Mackey eyed him for a moment before clearing his throat, "well…what do you feel? Do you feel like you could do something like that to Stan?"

Craig's eyes continued to waver, a small layer of moisture becoming apparent. He leaned back, curled his legs to his chest and sniffled a bit before looking towards the counselor.

"You know something…that's the part that scares me."

His gaze was piercing as the counselor felt himself growing uncomfortable. Still, he waited patiently for the rest.

"I could…and, if she gives me the chance, I will."

Mr. Mackey eyed him for a moment, taking note of how profound that statement was for the teen before him. He was learning something about himself, and furthermore, acknowledging it.

"When did you realize this?" he asked, knowing all too well Craig had a reputation for burning bridges when it came to sex.

Craig blew out a puff of air from his lips, causing a slight purring sound, "I dunno…I guess seeing Clyde yesterday got me thinking…"

"You spoke with Clyde?" the counselor interrupted, a little surprised. He was aware they hadn't spoken in quite some time.

Craig's blue eyes were fixated on him, realizing he was starting to divulge. He thought for a moment about pulling back and growing defiant but, after it had passed, he thought better of it. It wouldn't kill him to talk about some shit.

"Uh, yeah…yeah, I did. I went by his house…asked him to come to the funeral this weekend."

Mr. Mackey sat himself up, a somewhat pleased expression on his face.

"Well, that's good Craig. I'm glad to hear you're reaching out and asking for help, mmmkay…that's real progress."

For a second, he felt anger rush through him. How presumptuous of him to think he needed anyone's assistance! Who the Hell did he think he was? And furthermore, why the fuck would he care? Sure, he was the counselor and it was his job to care…but did he really? He sat, mouth open and dumbfounded for several seconds before the heat of anger flushed itself out, replaced by a bit of amusement. He raised his eyebrows, shook his head and let out a small laugh.

"Yeah…okay, sure. I guess it is," he sighed, realizing his defeat. There was no argument to be made.

Mr. Mackey smiled at him before continuing to prod.

"Well, did he say he would go?"

Craig smiled to himself, putting his hand to his head, "yeah…yeah he said he would."

The counselor continued to smile before regaining his composure. His work definitely wasn't finished, though he was pleased with the milestone he'd reached. Craig was beginning the healing process; acknowledging there were neglected issues in his personal life. It was all very promising.

"And this got you thinking about the appropriateness of your situation with Wendy, I'm guessing?" he continued, deciding it was in Craig's interest to further examine the situation.

Craig shrugged before leaning forward and putting his cigarette out in a small ashtray on Mr. Mackey's desk. He'd bought it just for his sessions with Craig.

"Yeah. I guess I just…well…" his face showed an enormous amount of strain as he tried to piece it together, "…I guess I just thought it would be better to stay away from her, that's all."

The counselor nodded, carefully putting the puzzle together. Still…there was something nagging at him.

"But you're still worried, aren't you?" he urged.

Craig eyed him for a second before letting out a sigh, "what if…what if I'm in love with her? Would that change anything? I mean, what if it wasn't just fucking I was interested in? What if I couldn't get her off of my mind? What if I thought absolutely everything about her was perfect? What if I thought I could make her happier than Stan? And…even worse…what if…" he paused, his eyes wavering once more, "…what if she felt the same?"

Mr. Mackey swallowed hard, knowing damn well he wasn't really being hypothetical. This kid had real feelings for Wendy. It wasn't physical bullshit, and it was fairly obvious despite his efforts to be discreet.

"Well, Craig," he began cautiously, not entirely sure what the right move would be. Just because he was a counselor didn't mean he had all of the answers, "What do you think you should do?"

Craig tapped his hand on the arm of his chair, visibly aggravated.

"You want to know what I think?"

Mr. Mackey nodded at him, indicating his desire to hear his thoughts.

"I think I can't get through this life without at least asking her how she feels."

He was worried he might say that. The counselor swallowed, unsure of what to say. Craig stared at him for several seconds before letting out a sigh and standing up. They eyed each other for a moment before Craig smirked at him and waved his hand carelessly.

"Don't worry, whatever I decide to do it's not your fault. I'm a basket case…quit trying to fix me," he offered before tapping the desk and walking out of the office, leaving the counselor worried and, admittedly, confused.

Perhaps he was right; maybe he couldn't be fixed.