Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits, #1)(4)

“That sounds like a healthy way to grieve. What are your thoughts on this, Mr. Emerson?” Mrs. Collins gave great puppy dog eyes—a trait I had yet to master.

My father scrolled again through his BlackBerry, his body present but his mind already at work. “It costs money and I don’t see the point in fixing up a broken-down car when she has a car that works.”

“Then let me get a job,” I snapped. “And we can sell my car once I get Aires’ working.”

All eyes were on him and now his were on me. Without meaning to, I’d backed him into a corner. He wanted to say no, but that would bring down the wrath of the new therapist. After all, we had to be perfect in therapy. God forbid we take advantage of it and hash out some issues.

“Fine, but she has to pay for the car herself, and Echo knows my rules regarding employment. She has to find a flexible job that will not interfere with her schoolwork, the clubs we agreed upon or her grades. Now, are we done here?”

Mrs. Collins glanced at the clock. “Not quite. Echo, your social worker extended your therapy until graduation because of your teacher evaluations. Since the beginning of your junior year, each of your teachers has noted a distinct withdrawal from your participation in class and in your social interactions with your peers.” Her kind eyes bored into mine. “Everyone wants you to be happy, Echo, and I’d like you to give me the opportunity to help.”

I cocked an eyebrow. Like I had a choice about therapy, and as for my happiness—good freaking luck. “Sure.”

Ashley’s perky voice startled me. “She has a date for the Valentine’s Dance.”

Now my father and I took our turn speaking simultaneously. “I do?”—”She does?”

Ashley’s eyes darted nervously between me and my father. “Yes, remember, Echo? Last night we discussed the new guy you’re into and I told you that you shouldn’t dump your friends at school while you obsessed over some guy.”

I deliberated over which part disturbed me more: the imaginary boyfriend or that she claimed we’d had an actual conversation. While I was deciding, my father stood and put on his coat. “See, Mrs. Collins, Echo is fine. Just a little lovestruck. As much as I enjoy these sessions, Ashley’s appointment is in twenty minutes and I don’t want Echo to miss any more class.”

“Echo, are you really interested in making money to fix your brother’s car?” Mrs. Collins asked as she stood to escort my father and stepmother out.

I pulled at the gloves I wore to cover my skin. “More than you could possibly imagine.”

She smiled at me before walking out the door. “Then I’ve got a job for you. Wait here and we’ll discuss the details.”

The three of them huddled together on the far side of the main office, whispering to one another. My father wrapped his arm around Ashley’s waist and she leaned into him as they nodded at Mrs. Collins’s hushed words. The familiar pang of jealousy and anger ate at the lining of my gut. How could he love her when she’d destroyed so much?





NOAH


Fresh paint and the scent of drywall dust made me think of my father, not school. Yet that smell slapped me in the face when I walked into the newly remodeled front office. With books in hand, I sauntered toward the counter. “‘Sup, Mrs. Marcos.”

“Noah, why you late again, muchacho?” she said while stapling papers together.

The clock on the wall flipped to nine in the morning. “Hell, this is early.”

Mrs. Marcos stepped around her new cherry desk to meet me at the counter. She gave me crap when I came in late, but I still liked her. With her long brown hair, she reminded me of a Hispanic version of my mother.

“You missed your appointment with Mrs. Collins this morning. Not a good way to start the second term,” she whispered as she wrote my tardy slip. She tilted her head toward the three adults huddled together in the far corner of the room. I assumed the middle-aged blond woman whispering to the rich couple was the new guidance counselor.

I shrugged and let the right side of my mouth twitch up. “Oops.”

Mrs. Marcos slid the tardy slip to me and gave me her patented stern glare. She was the one person at this school who didn’t believe that me and my future were completely f*cked.

The middle-aged blonde called out, “Mr. Hutchins, I’m thrilled you remembered our appointment, even if you are late. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind taking a seat while I finish a few things.” She smiled at me like we were old friends and spoke so sweetly that for a moment, I almost smiled back. Instead, I nodded and took a seat on the line of chairs pushed against the office wall.

Mrs. Marcos laughed.

“What?”

“She’s not going to put up with your attitude. Maybe she’ll convince you to take school seriously.”

I rested my head against the painted cinder-block wall and shut my eyes, in need of a few more hours’ sleep. Short one person for closing, the restaurant hadn’t let me go until after midnight, and then Beth and Isaiah kept me up.

“Mrs. Marcos?” asked an angelic voice. “Can you please tell me the upcoming dates for the ACT and SAT?”

The phone rang. “Wait one sec,” said Mrs. Marcos. Then the ringing ceased.

A chair down the row from mine shifted and my mouth watered from the aroma of hot cinnamon rolls. I snuck a peek and noticed red, silky, curly hair. I knew her. Echo Emerson.