“I’ve been at this twenty-seven years and you’re the most consistent student I’ve ever seen.” Mr. Marsh, the counselor, spread Matt’s first-semester report cards on his desk. “Basic Algebra, 60.3 percent. Earth Science, 60.2. Business English, 61.1. Metal Shop, 60.5. US History, 60.7. It’s uncanny. How do you explain it?”
Matt shrugged.
“I’m serious, Matt. How do you manage to exert the absolute bare minimum effort required to pass? In every discipline we offer?” The silence was heavy and hung there for over a minute. “These are not rhetorical questions.”
Matt looked at the desk. “They’ll give me a diploma that looks just like everyone else’s.”
“Ahhh, not so fast.” Mr. Marsh pulled a paper from the top drawer of his desk. “Not so fast. That’s why I asked you to come see me. The school board passed a new rule last night. You hear about it?”
Matt shook his head. “I don’t get to as many meetings as I would like.”
“No problem. I have a copy of the minutes right here.” Mr. Marsh cleared his throat and read, “ ‘In an effort to ensure that all students are on a path to well-rounded citizenship after graduation, each senior will be required to join at least one extracurricular club during his or her final year of high school.’ ”
Matt scoffed.
“Well?” Mr. Marsh said.
“They can’t do that.”
“They can. They have.”
The door of Mr. Marsh’s office opened and Vice Principal Gill stuck his head into the room. He looked over Matt’s head to the counselor. “Did you tell him?”
Mr. Marsh nodded.
“And is he going to drop out?” Saying it just like that, like Matt wasn’t in the room.
“We’re getting there, Mr. Gill.” Mr. Marsh looked back at Matt. “This rule takes effect immediately, so you need to…” Mr. Gill remained in the doorway, watching. Mr. Marsh fixed him with a stare. “Is there anything else I can help you with right now? Or should I get back to the conversation I was having with this student?” Gill glared at Mr. Marsh but shut the door.
Mr. Marsh sighed. “Matt, Mr. Gill there thinks the only reason you show up at school at all is to have access to customers. Even if he can’t prove it.”
Matt said nothing.
“But at least you’re technically passing. And you’re right about one thing. If you join a club and keep those grades above sixty percent, you do indeed get a diploma, on official school paper and everything. Does that mean anything to you?”
Matt shrugged.
“I’m serious, Matt. I know it’s the biggest cliché in the counselor handbook, but where do you see yourself in five years? What are you going to have to do to get there?”
Thinking about the future was like staring into a dark cave. Matt remained silent.
Mr. Marsh sighed. “I checked out all the clubs. And I mean all of them. There’s only one that you’re qualified to join, especially at this late date. Helping Hands. It’s a community service club. They meet in room 212.”
Matt gave no indication that he’d heard.
“They meet every Tuesday, next meeting’s tomorrow. If you want to stay in school, start attending. And just between you and me, I’m sure Gill will be there to take attendance.”
“Can I go now?”
Mr. Marsh opened a green file folder on his desk. “That’s it, Matt? ‘Can I go now?’ That’s the best you got? I know there’s more in there than Mr. Sixty Percent.”
“Can I go now?”
Mr. Marsh exhaled slowly and scooped up Matt’s report cards. “Sure. Why not?”
Matt pushed himself out of the chair and reached for the doorknob.
“One last thing,” Mr. Marsh said, taking another piece of paper out of Matt’s file. “Is there someone at your place I can talk to? It says here you live with your grandmother. Maybe I’ll give her a call.”
Matt shook his head. “No need.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll be there. Tomorrow.”