The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 103: Chapter 103 - College Panic

Roxie got called to the guidance office during second period.

The slip came folded in half, carried by a junior aide who looked too proud to be handing out bad news before lunch. Mr. Miles, Economics teacher, took it, read her name, then looked at Roxie over the top of his glasses.

”Someone’s in trouble,” Mr. Miles teased. All the students whipped their heads towards him. ”Jones.” The room turned quiet in that hungry way classrooms always did when someone got called out.

”Guidance office.” They groaned in disappointment, as if they had wanted her sent back to the principal’s office.

Roxie rolled her eyes and took the slip.

The hallway was almost empty. A custodian pushed a cart near the lockers. Somewhere down the hall, a teacher’s voice carried through an open classroom door. The rest of the school was trapped in second period, which made the building feel cleaner than it really was.

Roxie looked down at the slip again.

Guidance Office. Mrs. Hale.

Great.

She already knew this was about college.

That was the problem with avoiding things. They kept finding adult offices to sit in. This was definitely an invasion of privacy.

Mrs. Hale’s door was half open when Roxie arrived. She knocked anyway.

”Come in, Roxie.”

Mrs. Hale sat behind her desk with a folder open in front of her. Her glasses were low on her nose, and her computer screen had Roxie’s student record pulled up. There was a stack of college brochures near the window, all bright pictures of smiling students on grass Roxie was sure cost more than her whole living room furniture.

”Sit down.”

Roxie sat.

Mrs. Hale looked at the folder, then at her. ”I wanted to check on your college application progress.”

Roxie kept her face calm. ”Okay.”

Mrs. Hale waited.

Roxie waited back.

The silence stretched until Mrs. Hale sighed and tapped the paper in front of her.

”You have not requested recommendation letters yet.”

Roxie’s fingers tightened on the strap of her bag.

”I was going to.”

”When?”

Roxie had no answer.

Mrs. Hale looked at her over the glasses. ”Most teachers need at least two weeks. Some need more. Scholarship deadlines are coming up. Your transcript requests are incomplete. You have not finalized a school list, and I see no submitted recommendation requests from Coach Miller either.”

Roxie stared at the folder.

The words lined up in front of her like charges.

Recommendation letters.

Scholarship deadlines.

Transcript requests.

School list.

Coach Miller.

Everything sounded simple when adults said it. Like college was a hallway. Pick a door, fill out a form, walk through.

Roxie had barely looked at the doors.

College had been sitting somewhere behind everything else. Last in line.

Behind cheer.

Behind money.

Behind her mother asleep on the couch.

Behind work at the Corner Grill.

Behind Kendall trying to take her position one missed count at a time.

Behind Zac Prescott and his stupid future that apparently needed protection from her.

Mrs. Hale softened her voice. ”Roxie.”

Roxie looked up.

”You have the grades to apply. Your activities are strong. Cheer could help, especially if regionals go well. But you need paperwork. You need people speaking for you on paper.”

Roxie nodded. ”I know.”

”You are a senior. Waiting will cost you options.”

Options.

The word sat badly in her chest.

Roxie looked at the college brochures again. One had a girl in a university sweatshirt laughing with two friends near a fountain. Another showed a brick building and trees with orange leaves. The students in the pictures all looked like they knew where they were sleeping next year.

Roxie did not even know if the electricity bill was paid.

”Have you thought about where you want to go?” Mrs. Hale asked.

Roxie opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Mrs. Hale’s expression changed.

Roxie hated that.

She hated concern more than disappointment. Disappointment was clean. Concern wanted to sit beside her and touch her hand.

”I’m still deciding,” Roxie said.

”That is fair. But you need to start somewhere.”

Roxie looked down. ”I know.”

Mrs. Hale picked up a pen. ”Are you looking at in-state schools? Cheer programs? Private colleges? Community college as backup? Athletic scholarships?”

Roxie’s throat tightened. ”I’m waiting to see what happens with regionals,” Roxie said.

Mrs. Hale’s expression softened. ”Regionals can help, especially if coaches are watching. But you cannot build your whole plan around one event.”

”I know.”

”Then you need a school list.”

Roxie looked at the college brochures near the window.

The students on the covers all looked clean and sure. Sweatshirts. Grass. Brick buildings. Big smiles. They looked like they had already been accepted by the future and were only posing for proof.

Roxie looked away.

”I’m still deciding,” she said.

Mrs. Hale placed a recommendation request form in front of her. ”Then we start today. Three names by Friday. At least one teacher and one coach. Five schools, even if they are tentative.”

”Five?”

”Yes.”

Roxie stared at the blank lines.

Five schools.

She did not even know where she wanted to be next month.

Mrs. Hale slid a pen toward her. ”Start with names. Then schools. I have another student scheduled, so sit outside and work on this. I’ll check it before you return to class.”

Roxie took the form.

”Okay.”

She went to the waiting area and sat in the corner chair near the fake plant. The chair was stiff and low enough to make her feel like a child outside the principal’s office.

Recommendation Letter Request.

Student Name: Roxie Jones.

She wrote her name.

Teacher one.

Her pen hovered.

Coach Miller.

Teacher two.

Mr. Callahan, maybe.

He would probably write something painfully honest.

Then she reached the school list.

School one.

The line stayed empty.

The door to Mrs. Pixie’s office, the other guidance counselor, opened.

A boy groaned before Roxie saw him.

”I’m telling you, this is cruel,” Mason said as he stepped out. ”Why do colleges need essays? I have already lived the life. Why do I have to explain the life?”

Mrs. Pixie’s voice followed him from inside. ”Because admission officers are not mind readers, Mason.”

”They should train harder.”

”Mason.”

”I’m going.”

He turned, still muttering, and saw Roxie in the corner chair.

His face changed.

For a second, it lightened like he had found someone normal in the middle of a paperwork crime scene. Then he remembered.

His smile stalled.

Roxie raised a brow. ”What?”

Mason looked at the empty chairs, then at her form. ”Nothing.”

”Then keep walking.”

He should have.

He did not.

He sat in the chair beside her and dropped his folder on his lap.

Roxie stared at him. ”That wasn’t an invitation.”

”You raised your eyebrow.”

”That means leave.”

”I read it as sit.”

”You read badly.”

Mason leaned back. ”Mrs. Hale said that too.”

Roxie looked back at her form.

For once, Mason stayed quiet for almost twenty seconds.

Then he looked at the blank school list. ”You still don’t know where to go?”

Roxie thought about kicking him out but honestly, with his personality, it’d be easier to just answer him. ”Yeah.”

He nodded like they were now having a real conversation. ”Same.”

Roxie looked at him.

”What?” Mason said. ”I applied because my mom started using my full name every time she saw an unopened application. That’s basically a legal threat.”

”You have choices.”

”Some.” He looked at her form again. ”You thinking cheer?”

”I don’t know.”

”Regionals matter?”

Roxie’s fingers tightened around the pen. ”Everything matters.”

Mason nodded.

He did not make a joke after that.

That made him easier to tolerate.

”I need cheer to matter,” Roxie said, surprising herself.

Mason turned his head.

She kept her eyes on the paper. ”Regionals. State. Something. I need something that makes a school look twice.”

”They already would.”

Roxie gave him a look.

Mason raised both hands. ”Fine. I’m shutting up.”

”You never shut up.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. ”You want school names?”

”No.”

”State has a cheer program.”

”Mason.”

”VCU,” Mason said.

Roxie stared at the blank line. Richmond felt like another planet and still too close to home. Sure. Easy to dream.

”George Mason. Old Dominion. James Madison. Longwood,” He continued.

Roxie looked at him. ”You just had those ready?”

”Zac’s been getting mail from half of them.”

The name hit the air between them.

Roxie’s face changed before she could stop it.

Mason noticed.

His voice lowered. ”Sorry. Forgot you’re in a fight or something.”

She gave him a look. ”No, it’s fine.”

It was not fine. She doesn’t want to talk about him.

Mason tapped his pen against his folder once, then stopped. ”He has a lot of choices.”

Roxie stared at the form.

Of course Zac had choices.

Schools mailing him. Coaches watching him. A future lined up in envelopes and phone calls. People asking where he wanted to go like the world was waiting for his answer.

Roxie had blank lines.

Mason continued, slower now. ”But I don’t know. He might still drop everything and do what his dad wants.”

Roxie looked at him despite herself.

Mason shrugged. ”His parents are strict. Like, not normal strict. Prescott strict.”

”He told me.”

”Yeah?”

”Enough.”

Mason studied her face, then looked away. ”Maybe not enough.”

Roxie’s eyes narrowed. ”What does that mean?”

”It means Zac acts like he has a hundred options, but half the time he’s choosing between which version of his dad gets less pissed.”

Roxie said nothing.

Mason kept going. ”I’m not defending him.”

”Sounds like you are.”

”I’m explaining him.”

”There’s no difference.”

”There is when the guy is being an idiot for a reason.”

”He still gets to be an idiot.”

”Yeah.” Mason nodded. ”He does.”

That answer was harder to fight.

Roxie looked back at the form.

Her pen hovered over the first blank line.

Mason leaned close enough to see. ”Put VCU.”

”I said no.”

”You said you don’t know.”

”That means no.”

”That means blank. Hale hates blank.”

Roxie glared at him.

Mason pointed at the form. ”Put it down. Cross it out later if you want.”

Roxie hated that he was right.

She wrote:

VCU.

The three letters looked strange in her handwriting.

Mason’s face softened for half a second.

Then he ruined it by talking.

”Look at you. Future college menace.”

Roxie pointed the pen at him. ”Say that again and I’ll stab you.”

He nodded. ”Fair.”

Mrs. Hale’s office door opened.

”Mason, you’re not scheduled for today.”

”I am, with Mrs. Pixie. I swear I was helping.”

Roxie looked up. ”He was bothering me.”

Mrs. Hale looked at the form in Roxie’s lap.

Her eyebrows rose slightly when she saw one school written down.

”It’s a start,” she said.

Was it?

Mason stood and picked up his folder. ”I’ll leave before I become useful.”

”Too late,” Roxie said.

He paused beside her chair.

For once, he looked unsure.

Then he said, ”Zac’s an ass when he’s scared.”

Roxie looked up.

Mason held her gaze.

”He’s still an ass,” he added.

Then he walked away before she could answer.