MR. GORE’S A TALL, THIN MAN with thick glasses and a Jheri curl hairstyle that the other students relentlessly make fun of. He’s my guidance counselor, and I don’t really like him, even though he smiles a lot, has a soft voice, and is always talking about looking out for my best interests.
He’s pulled me out of English class on the first day of school, which seems unnecessary and makes me feel anxious because I had to leave Boy21 behind, and Coach won’t like that.
Mr. Gore’s office is covered with bumper stickers—floor to ceiling. Each bumper sticker has the name of a college on it, which is sort of ironic, because not many of the students here will get to go.
“So,” Mr. Gore says when I sit down, “you thinking about your future at all?”
“Community college,” I say, because it’s all I can afford without a scholarship, and my SAT scores are pretty mediocre. Dad says you can go to community college for two years and then transfer, which saves a lot of money in the end. I’ll have to take out less in loans, which seems smart. And then I plan to follow Erin wherever she ends up playing basketball.
“You can do better,” Mr. Gore says. “But there will be time to discuss that later.” He leans forward in his chair. “So tell me about the new kid, Russ Washington.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe why Coach asked you to shepherd him around school, for starters.” Mr. Gore smiles and licks his lips. “Why do you suppose he picked you?”
I shrug.
“I know about Russ’s past, Finley. I’m in the inner circle, so to speak.”
He’s evaluating me, trying to see what I know, or maybe he’s trying to trick me into giving out information on Russ. I don’t like the look on his face. It’s almost like he enjoys messing with my mind.
“Tell me. Do you see any similarities between you and Russ?”
“We both play basketball,” I say, and then I wish I hadn’t because I don’t know if Mr. Gore knew that already.
“True,” he says, which makes me feel better, “but I’m thinking about something else. Something that maybe you need to talk about. Something you’ve kept bottled up for too long now.”
I know exactly what he means because he’s been trying to get me to talk about this subject ever since I was a freshman, and it’s really none of his business. He doesn’t understand what he’s messing with. Some things are definitely better left unsaid. Mr. Gore doesn’t live in this neighborhood, and it shows.
“I’m only trying to help you, Finley.”
“Coach told me not to leave Russ alone, so I have to get back to class.”
“You do everything Coach tells you to do without ever questioning his motives?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He’s my coach.”
“I’m worried about you, Finley. If you get to feeling like you’re in over your head, you can always talk to me. I want you to know that. I’m a good lifeguard.”
Lifeguard?
Take a look around, Mr. Gore. We’re not exactly at the town pool.
I’m starting to get annoyed, and it must show, because Mr. Gore writes me a pass and holds it up between his fore- and middle fingers.
“You’re free to go,” he says.
I bolt.