Howard Screw You Van Gogh

1. Auflage 2023
ISBN: 979-8-3509-2711-5
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 296 Seiten

Reihe: Screw You Van Gogh

Screw You Van Gogh is the powerful story of two friends brought together by change and an unworldly connection neither one can explain. Together they navigate the terrifying impact of teenage mental health issues and, ultimately, the choice to live.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Howard, Jeff

Leseproben

Chapter 2 I think I’m supposed to be in a bad mood, thought Michael Burns as he walked toward school, but I’m not. Which was an odd thing because today was the first day back on the job after summer vacation. Burns was the school counselor at Roosevelt High School, where he had diligently served the students for the last five years. A popular joke amongst his colleagues was that the three best things about their jobs were June, July, and August. But going back isn’t so bad, he thought. Summers were great with laid-back, sunny days, soft sultry nights, and the freedom to enjoy them any way he wanted. But Burns could only kickback for so long. Without a direction or purpose, the novelty of idleness did not fit him. Burns sought consistency, and school put his life in order. He often parked his car a few blocks from school just for the walk down the tree-lined sidewalks to the front doors. It was a classic, early fall morning, the kind that cleared his mind for the day. The air was cool and brisk but foretold of a balmy, sunny afternoon. The leaves on the maple trees were just starting to show a tinge of color. Their leaves would soon be crimson, the oak leaves bronze, and the birch trees yellow. It was the kind of morning that got his day started in the right direction—an important thing for a high school counselor. Roosevelt High was an old building in a modern world. The school was built in 1934 in the midst of the Great Depression. Despite the fact that the people of Masonville were broke back then, they had invested what they had in the future of their children. They had prayed their offspring would not have to go through what they had. And they felt the best way to do that was to make their children smarter than themselves. So they built a school—a very nice one. When deciding what to call their school, they named it after the man who pulled America out of the depression dumpster. Its exterior was classic brick with massive curved windows and church-like steeples. The grounds had thick green lawns shaded by towering oak trees. Inside, the halls and stairwells were paved with stone cut from a quarry just out of town. The classrooms had high ceilings, dark wood trim on plastered walls, and ornate lighting fixtures. Student lockers lined the halls, and while they were small, they had housed the possessions of the town’s kids for four generations. Burns walked through the reception area to his office and unlocked the door. He loved his office. The walls were covered with dark hardwood paneling halfway up, and the rest was a calming pale green color. His wide desk was topped with matching polished wood. It was an environment he hoped inspired the students but maybe intimidated them just a bit. He sat down behind the desk and let the familiarity wash over him. “It’s like we never left this place,” a familiar voice came to him from outside his door “One moment you’re packing up stuff to take home in June, the next, you’re unloading the same stuff on your desk in September. But you never touched it all summer.” It was Janey Sullivan, Burns’ fellow counselor. He smiled. He had missed Janey and her witty sense of humor over the summer. But mostly, he had missed her advice; she was as good a school counselor as there ever was. Hundreds of teenagers had been steered the right direction through her compassionate, yet firm guidance. Burns had been taught that school counselors should be willing to get counseling themselves, and he had made frequent trips to Janey’s office over the years. Burns was convinced his world was better when she was in it. Janey walked into his office. She had a coffee mug in her hand that had COUNSELORS MAKE IT HAPPEN printed across the front, and she sat down across from him. She was a lovely woman. The older boys in school would flirt with Janey by asking if she had a younger sister. Now Janey was tanned and fit. Her blonde hair was almost white after being in the sun all summer. She wore hiking sandals and nylon outdoor pants, the kind with legs that would unzip into shorts. Her stylish cotton blouse was light blue and had short sleeves. Janey had never been married. Everyone suspected she had to get out of town if she wanted to find an available guy. It was the price she paid to stay in Masonville—a nice town, but not a scene for singles. Even though he was available and not too bad looking himself—or so he assumed—Burns had never asked for anything but a professional relationship with his colleague. He didn’t tell anyone, but he had more than a little crush on her. “So was your summer incredible?” she asked. “Not really,” replied Burns. “Went out west in July and did some sightseeing in Colorado and Utah. Other than that, just did a bunch of stuff I never have time to do during the school year. How about you?” “About the same. Went to visit my mom in Los Angeles in June, spent most weekends with friends, and then laid out on my deck the rest of the time and read some trashy novels. It was great, and now here we are.” “Yes, here we are,” he agreed. “Open the doors and let ’em in.” Janey gave a knowing smile and sipped from her cup. “So, do you know if we have many new students starting this fall?” “I know of one. She’s coming in this afternoon. A young lady moving from Omaha. The usual story: single mom, moving all the time, been to who knows how many schools and probably missing credits. I hate telling kids, ‘Welcome to Roosevelt, and guess what? You’re already behind in credits.’” “Poor kid. Instead of thinking about teenage stuff like dating, friends, and Friday nights, she wonders when she’ll eat next or what town she’ll wake up in the next morning. I don’t know how they do it.” “You know, I’ve thought about that this summer. I have an idea,” Burns said, suddenly more enthusiastic. “This whole anxiety-stress thing with kids is so out of hand. I want to do something that will encourage them to get past the stigma that if you go see your counselor, you must be weird. Give them something to do, maybe some sort of isokinetic thing on my desk they can play with while they calm down to talk—maybe even have a meaningful conversation.” “Oh, a fidget toy,” Janey said, “like a squeeze ball or a rubber tangle relaxer. Squeeze, squeeze, twist, twist until they’re ready to talk.” “You’re being sarcastic,” said Burns. “Really, Michael? I didn’t know.” “Yeah, right. Anyway, it will be better than a fidget toy. I’m going to have a good old-fashioned jigsaw puzzle on my desk. What person can resist an unfinished puzzle? And while the kids move the pieces around, we talk.” “It’ll make you counselor of the year,” Janey smirked. “But I gotta say, I like it. You pushing puzzle pieces around with a student, discussing grades, school, and the meaning of life is, well, inspiring.” Then a look of seriousness came over her. “But, Michael, you know what you put yourself through every year. Lots of times, you work harder than the kids. Sometimes they just don’t want an adult trying to figure them out.” Burns didn’t say anything, and Janey appeared to feel guilty as if she was raining on his parade. “But it does sound good,” she said quickly. “What will this puzzle be a picture of?” “I’m not sure, maybe a superhero,” he said. “Kids love superheroes. We could talk about the flawed lives of epic heroes, overcoming challenges, good versus evil, all kinds of adolescent issues.” “I think the puzzle should be of a kitten, something warm and fuzzy,” Janey quipped. “Or better yet, a teen celebrity who gives social media advice or tabloid wisdom. Then you can tell your kids to do just the opposite, and everything will be okay. I will be anxiously awaiting the results,” she said as she got up. “Gear up soldier, it’s a new year.” As Burns and Janey settled in their offices, they appeared to ponder the upcoming year. Each school year was its own—no two years were the same—each with its own ups and downs and joys and disappointments. Now, sitting at their desks, both had a feeling of uncertain anticipation, an unsettling sense that this...