"I just want to assure you, Eli, you're not here because you're in trouble." Counselor Blatt leaned back comfortably in her chair to try and make the boy sitting across from her feel more relaxed. Eli continued to sit hunched over in the padded chair that was available for the students, eyes staring down at his hands in his lap, seemingly doing everything in his power to avoid looking at her. He looked like a bundle of stress and anxiety, the way his brows were creased, and his mouth was twisted in a wretched frown. So Counselor Blatt smiled and asked him warmly, "Do you understand why they had you come speak to me?" Eli gave a small nod. Counselor Blatt pressed further, "Can you tell me why, please?"
Eli sighed. He really didn't feel like talking, but he mumbled back, "I-I disrupted Mr. Combs's class."
Keeping the assuring smile on her face, Counselor Blatt expounded further, "Mr. Combs says you suddenly broke down crying when he asked you to read an exert from your writing assignment to the class." Eli didn't respond. He just kept his eyes on his twiddling thumbs. Counselor Blatt detected the way his cheeks blushed in embarrassment, however. Poor thing was probably mortified. "Can you tell me what made you cry?" she asked.
Eli just sank more into his seat and gave a shrug of his shoulders. What was he supposed to say? He cried because he was a crybaby; a softie; a wuss; a weenie; a pansy; a sissy. He hated how sensitive he was. He just wished he could grow a thicker skin, like all the other boys. They didn't let dumb shit get to them like he did.
When it became clear he wasn't going to answer, Counselor Blatt tried leading him more. "Were you sad about something?" All she got in response was more silence, more eye avoidance. Adjusting her glasses, she told him, "I would very much like to help you if you're feeling bad, Eli, but for me to do that I really need you to try talking with me, okay?"
The boy sitting across from her nodded. "Yeah."
But still, he didn't answer her question. Counselor Blatt pressed her lips together for a moment and tried to think of a way to get Eli to open up. "I know it states on your health record that you have autism," she stated, saying the word softly, almost like it was some disease he'd caught, "but I also hear that you're maintaining a strong B in English, so it's clear you're a bright boy, Eli. And I know public speaking can be pretty scary. Were you scared?" Why did it sound like she was speaking to him like he was eight instead of fourteen, Eli wondered?
He shook his head to her question. "No," Eli answered verbally. He wasn't scared. That wasn't the word for it. The whole situation had just been too much, that was the only way he could describe it. And his face heated some more, thinking about how he was going to have to go back to the class the next day. He would have rather buried himself in a hole. He remembered the looks on the other kids' faces. A couple girls looked at him with pity. Some of the other boys laughed at him. Most others just looked away, uncomfortable, whispering to each other and pointing at him, wondering what the hell his problem was.
"Then why did you cry?" Counselor Blatt asked him again.
Eli chewed on his bottom lip. The whole week had sucked, worse than usual. Demetri was still out with the flu; so, with his only friend sick, Eli had no one to talk or sit with at school. On Monday, he'd started the day off badly when he left his Algebra homework at home again, which upset Ms. Watanabe. Someone stole his favorite Doctor Who pen, the one he'd gotten at the sci-fi con, in Ecology, he knew he hadn't misplaced it. Derrick pantsed him in the locker room after gym class, and Coach McGee didn't do anything about it.
Tuesday had been no better. A lot of the kids in World History were mad because Mr. Sanchez had announced that instead of the planned Christmas-themed party the next week before school let out for winter break, he had decided that it had to be a more inclusive, secular "Winter Holidays" party; and apparently the distinction must have been a big deal, for some reason. Brandon and Juan blamed him, Eli guessed because he was the only Jewish kid in class, even though he hadn't said anything about it to Mr. Sanchez; he didn't care either way about the stupid party. The two boys spent the whole period shooting spitballs in his hair.
Yesterday didn't let up either. A morning fire drill shot his nerves to pieces right off the bat. In Computer Science, Bryce kept messaging demeaning nicknames to him while they were supposed to be working on a project; he had two new ones: split-lip and rabbit-mouth. Kiki accused him of staring at her – he hadn't been, he'd just zoned out – and called him a weirdo. Kyler tripped him in the cafeteria, causing him to fall on top of his tray, where he got mashed potatoes and gravy all over his shirt, forcing him to wear his gym shirt the rest of the day; Kyler and his crew got a good chuckle out of that.
And now he'd just humiliated himself in Mr. Combs's English class. God, and it was only Thursday, he still had another day to go before this hell week was over with and he could get to relax in the sweet relief of the weekend. What would go wrong tomorrow? Maybe he could convince his parents to let him call out sick instead.
"Eli?" prodded Counselor Blatt.
They wouldn't leave him alone. All Eli wanted was for everyone to leave him alone. "People won't leave me alone," he admitted out loud to the counselor, vocalizing his thoughts. He finally looked up at her hesitantly, with a bit of hope in his eyes. "Can you make them?" he asked. She'd said she wanted to help him, and nothing in the world would have helped him more than if someone would finally get the other kids to stop.
Counselor Blatt's smile warmed again, glad she was finally able to get a reason out of the boy for his behavior. She'd had a suspicion that was what the whole thing had been about, since it was a fairly common problem at the school among the quiet kids, but she'd needed him to reach that conclusion himself and say it. "Sometimes other kids can say very cruel things," she said sympathetically. "I want you to understand that this school has a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to bullying."
"So you can make them stop?" asked Eli again, more forcefully.
Sensing at what Eli was hinting at, Counselor Blatt clarified, choosing her words carefully as she said, "If someone is bothering you, you should immediately tell a teacher, so proper actions will be taken." She watched the way the boy's shoulders slumped again, how his eyes fell back to his lap.
Eli should have known she'd be full of shit, too. She didn't mean what she said. Teachers were useless; counselors too, apparently. Did they think he was stupid? He'd already tried that, more than once. It didn't get the other kids to stop, and it definitely didn't save him from retaliation; he'd sported a black eye for a whole week one time as evidence to that fact, and after that he'd known never to name names again. It was all empty words. Nothing would make them stop.
Not wanting to lose his trust, Counselor Blatt tried another approach. "And while the school handles the problem, there are things you can do to make the teasing a little less hurtful for you. Why don't you try an exercise for me? Next time someone says something mean to you, think of a positive attribute about yourself." Eli didn't look back up at her. He just pinched his brows in doubt. "Try an example with me right now. Let's say someone just made fun of you for your, um, deformity. You would say to yourself, 'What they said was mean, but I know for a fact that I'm….'" She trailed off, giving Eli a chance to complete the sentence.
A freak, he wanted to say. But Eli remained quiet, keeping his eyes down, knowing he would get nothing of substance out of this forced counseling session. Just empty words, he thought to himself again.
Counselor Blatt's smile saddened at his silence. "You would say, 'But I know for a fact that I'm a very nice kid.'"