Sky pushed open the doors of the auditorium, her heartbeat ticking in her throat like a trapped bird.
She tried to swallow down that bird, but it was stuck. Stupid, so fucking stupid— she'd been going to therapy for years, had attended all kinds of group sessions in the rehab, had gone to AA teens and all, and never had any problem with that, and yet—
It was different with your classmates. These were people she knew. Would she really want to show them her deepest, rawest scars? Would they keep quiet about stuff they learned here, or would it all come back to bite her in the ass?
Well, too fucking late to be getting second thoughts now.
Tom, who was sitting in a circle of chairs with half a dozen other kids, had already noticed her hovering by the doors and raised a hand in a greeting, making everyone turn and look, including the man who must have been the new counselor.
"Welcome!" The councelor called with a friendly smile. "Here for the grief group? You've come to the right place. Come, have a seat. We were just about to get started."
Sky gripped the straps of her backpack a bit tighter and walked down the stairs to join the group. She knew most of the kids present by sight, but almost none of them well enough to know their names. Except for Tom, none of Cody's close friends were there, but Sky recognized a couple of girls who'd been in the drama club with him. She'd seen those girls in the group that hung in front of Cody's locker almost daily, leaving new cards or pictures on the door, and she had no doubt they'd report back to Jess about everything that Sky said or did here. Her heart sank. Fucking awesome. Maybe I should just go—
But Tom was gesturing to an empty seat next to him, and Sky drew her eyes off those girls, forced herself to take the last steps, and slumped down in her seat. She let her backpack fall onto the floor next to her chair.
"You came," Tom said, leaning closer and offering her half a smile. "I already thought you weren't going to."
"Of course," Sky replied - even if her being here was far from of course. The uneasy rolling in her stomach was turning into nausea, and she tried to hide the nervous trembling of her hands by smoothing her black and white skirt over her thighs, trying to pull the hem closer to her bare knees. She felt exposed. She should have worn something else, jeans, sweatpants, one of Kat's old hoodies that felt like wearing a hug.
"Well, I'm glad you're here."
Sky gave up on her skirt and leaned closer to Tom, whispering so that the others wouldn't hear. "Look, I wanted to thank you. For whatever you said to Jess. The notes— I haven't gotten any since last week."
"Good," Tom replied. "If she starts that shit again, just let me know."
Sky gave him a small nod and was just about to ask him what he had in fact done to make Jess stop, but the counselor clapped his hands to get everyone's attention, and Sky swallowed the words. Later. They could talk about that some other time.
"Alright, let's get started then," the counselor said, glancing around the circle, meeting Sky's eyes briefly. He looked like he was a bit younger than Dad, maybe in his thirties, his hair was a wavy mess of chestnut brown curls and his smile seemed genuine enough. "We have a couple of new faces here, so let's start with a short introduction so that we can all get to know each other. I'm the new school counselor here at West Valley High, and even if the sign on my door says Mr. Willigan, I'd like for you all to just call me Paul."
Sky resisted the urge to roll her eyes but her lips pressed into a tight line. In her experience, the teachers who wanted the students to call them by their first name were the worst.
Tom must have noticed the face she made because he leaned in and whispered: "Just give him a chance. He's okay."
"Fine," Sky muttered, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.
"Welcome to the grief group," The councelor said. "I've gotten some questions about why I decided to start this group - if it was because of the tragedy that happened here before I started in this position, but the answer is no. I've run similar groups in all the schools where I've worked. You see, I've been where you are now. My best friend died when I was fifteen."
Sky's glance snapped up from her knees.
Oh.
"It was the summer after our freshman year. And I—" Mr. Willigan - Paul - continued, a shadow of the old sorrow stealing his smile away. "I got lost after she died. I would have needed support, but I received none, and I ended up in a lot of trouble in the following years. So— that's why we are here. Each one of you has gone through a loss. And I know that sometimes it feels like no one understands. But here we can all relate to one another. I hope this can be a safe space for everyone present - that here you can speak about what you're going through, and know that you are heard. That you are seen."
Sky blinked a couple of times. Okay. She hadn't been expecting that.
"What kind of trouble?" She asked, making the counselor turn his soft, brown eyes to her.
"Excuse me?"
"You said you ended up in a lot of trouble after… your friend died. What kind of trouble?"
Paul let out a laugh, but there was something sad in the sound. He hesitated a moment before replying to Sky's question.
"Trouble. Bad decision. Trying to numb the pain instead of dealing with it."
Sky looked down and didn't ask more, but she felt seen unlike in a long time. Drugs. He must have meant drugs. Sky's chest squeezed the air out of her lungs, and she tried to hide the emotion by picking on a thread at the hem of her skirt. Tom had been right - this guy was nothing like Blatt.
Sudden pain pierced her heart. If only Mr. Willigan had been the counselor here when Cody got caught selling drugs. Surely, he would have handled the situation differently. He would have helped, instead of accusing, and— And Cody could still be alive.
"So, how about a small circle?" Paul asked, his glance sweeping around the circle. "We can all tell why we've come here today, what's on our mind - or if you don't want to say anything, that's fine too. No pressure. Who wants to start?"
For a couple of heartbeats, no one said anything, but then Tom raised a hand and Paul gave him an encouraging nod.
"Hi, my name is Tom," Tom said. "You all know why I'm here. Cody was my best friend. And— turns out that without him, everything sucks."
He turned his eyes to Sky as if expecting her to speak next. Sky felt her cheeks heating. She could feel Paul's eyes on her, and the weight of the gazes of those Drama Club girls, and all the stuff inside of her was like a mountain of crap, she had no idea how to even start going through it, but—
This isn't gonna do me any good if I don't talk.
"I'm Sky, and—" her voice came out weak. "In the past two years, I've lost three people I love. Cody was my… boyfriend." She felt how the Drama Club girls shifted in their seats at that word, but Sky kept talking, forcing the words out of her mouth. "And I'm here because ever since he died, I've been having nightmares."
"Me too," said Tom. "And some nights I can't sleep at all."
Sky glanced at him and took his hand, squeezing it hard.
"I've been having some fucked up dreams too," said a boy who sat next to the councelor, and Sky turned to look. She didn't remember that kid's name, but he looked familiar - he had beautiful, dark eyes, and his skin was the color of coffee with just a splash of milk. His long, black hair was braided tight along his scalp.
"My little brother died in a car crash six months ago," the boy said, and shrugged, turning his eyes to his colorful sneakers that were at least size 13. "And my name is Caleb, in case someone doesn't know me."
Sky's heart twisted painfully. To lose a brother— She could relate to that, even if Kat hadn't been her blood, they had been sisters in every meaning of the word.
"I'm sorry that your brother died," she said, meeting Caleb's eyes. "And for the nightmares."
The boy shrugged again. "Thanks."
Suddenly Sky realized why Caleb's face was so familiar. He had been going to math and science with her all year. When the school had started he'd had crutches, a cast on his leg— and not once had Sky asked if he was okay, if he needed help, what had happened— All this time that guy had been walking around with a hole in his chest, and she hadn't even known.
"What happens in your dreams?" she asked, keeping his stare.
"We're in the car. I'm driving, and— I can never stop it from happening. I never see the truck, before it's too late, and—" Caleb's voice came out a little raspy. "It sucks— Like, wasn't it enough to go through it once? Why do I need to keep seeing it again and again?"
"That's your brain trying to make sense of something very traumatic," Paul said, his voice soft and kind.
"It's PTSD," Sky muttered, picking at a thread on her skirt. "If you see it exactly like it happened, it's a PTSD symptom."
"True," Paul said, glancing from Caleb to Sky. "But we can't diagnose each other here, for that you need to see a professional. Nightmares can be a PTSD symptom, but they can also be just nightmares, your brain trying to process what happened. They are a normal part of a grieving process, and can be a part of survivor's guilt, which is so common—"
"Well, that sucks too," Sky's voice came out with a bite. "Survivor's guilt. I didn't ask to survive, you know. Everyone's telling me Cody should have shot me instead of himself. That I should be dead, not him. And they are right. I wish he would have. I wish he would have shot me, but he didn't— and it's not my fault, is it? Why do I have to see it over and over again? The way his head—"
Her throat closed up, stealing the rest of her sentence. Her hands were wet and hot with Cody's blood again, and she wiped them in her skirt but the blood wouldn't come off, it was always on her hands, an invisible film over her skin.
"I know," Paul said. "It's not fair—"
The sound of the door opening made him stop mid-sentence, and everyone turned to look as someone walked into the auditorium.
Sky's eyes widened.
There was a girl, walking down the stairs with smooth, confident steps. She flipped her blond locks behind the shoulder, looking like she was snatched right out of a fashion magazine. As she reached the circle of chairs, she let out a frustrated sigh and rolled her big blue eyes before taking a seat and crossing her long, slender denim-covered legs. She was wearing a pair of gorgeous high heels that Sky guessed had cost as much as someone else's house.
"You couldn't wait for me?" the girl sighed in an annoyed tone, running a hand through those flawless locks. "Jeez, I was only a couple of minutes late—"
"You're here now," Paul replied with a smile. "That's what matters. We were just getting started."
Sky couldn't stop staring, her jaw hanging open in a very unladylike manner. What the actual fuck—
The girl folded her hands in her lap, and with a voice that Sky had never heard from her lips before, she said: "Hi. My name is Yasmine, and my Mom died three years ago."