7 – Sigmund Freud

'Jubilee Hall, to the principal's office, please.'

The announcement echoed in her head as she waited in front of mrs. Mathis' office, her hand hovering in front of the door, ready to knock. What was she being accused of this time? Something was amiss, accusations only started around noon. It was barely 10am. Also, Mondays were always the slowest days for her and her friends – they were rarely up to no good that early in the week. What on earth could mrs. Mathis want?

She pushed the hair out of her face, straightened her shirt and skirt, drew in a deep breath, and knocked.

'Come in, miss Hall.'

The door opened without much effort. She remembered how hard she had to push on that blasted door until it opened, back when she was younger, in her early days of mischief. Before her growth spurt, she had been only slightly taller than the doorknob. Hobbit Hall, they used to call her.

'You wanted to see me, ma'am?' she asked politely.

The elderly woman didn't look up form the papers she was apparently signing.

'Yes, miss Hall. Sit down.'

Jubilee stared at the chair for a long moment. Principal Mathis never asked her to sit when she was accusing her of something. This was beginning to worry her.

Mrs. Mathis looked up from her papers, and Jubilee quickly crossed the distance to the chair and took a seat.

'Is...' she cleared her throat. 'Is there something wrong?'

'No, actually everything's fine.'

Mrs. Mathis sketched a smile, a rare gesture she made in front of any member of the Six Pack. It was usually a frown or a scowl.

'You have heard of Rutherford.'

It was a statement, not a question. Of course she had heard. The most expensive and exclusive boarding school in the country, filled with snobs and children of snobs, and...

'Yes, ma'am, I have.'

'They have a transfer opening for us.'

'A what?'

'Basically, miss Hall, they're letting us send a bright student there, for a better chance at getting into an Ivy League university.'

'This request came from you?'

'Yes.'

She nodded, feeling more confused by the second.

'And why are you telling me this? You want me to take the message to your nominated student, or...'

'No, miss Hall, this opening is for you.'

Jubilee simply stared.

'Ma'am, are you saying that...'

'Miss Hall, you are being offered the opportunity of going to Rutherford. What do you say?'

Her mind raced through all possible answers, and came up with the only decent one she could give.

'I say you have the wrong person.'

The principal's eyebrows shot up from behind the thick rims of her glasses. 'Oh?'

'I, well, I'm...'

'You're a rebel. Yes. However, let's face it, it's only because of your friends. If it weren't for them, you'd be the quietest student we have.'

She opened her mouth, and closed it again, not finding anything to say. Heat started rising in her cheeks – a rare feeling, given her permanent low body temperature – and she looked at the hands she had folded on her lap.

'Don't think it's not visible, Jubilee. There's more to you than pranks. You have potential. Every single professor has told me so – before or after complaining about your behaviour. It's time that your days as a wild child come to an end.'

She ducked her head a bit more, her hair falling over her face like a copper curtain, blocking her from the intransigent face of the principal. She was way out of her comfort zone. The principal's office was there for her getting reprimanded for doing this or that, for her parents or brother to have talks with mrs. Mathis about her behaviour, or for trying to wiggle herself and her five friends out of tricky situations. For that, and not for psychoanalysis.

'Mrs. Mathis, I...'

She paused again.

'Yes?'

The door burst open.

'She didn't do it!'

She turned to see Jacob and Martin standing in the doorway, chests heaving, most likely from having run to the principal's office.

'I am honestly touched by your wanting to get your friend out of trouble, boys,' spoke the principal, pushing her glasses up her nose. 'But I'm afraid that she's not being accused of anything in this meeting, so you're off-topic here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave us. Also, I will investigate what it is that you say that miss Hall didn't do. Good day.'

She shot the surprised boys a sympathetic glance and shrugged. They took a moment to compose themselves, then cleared their throats, bowed their heads, and backed out of the office. As soon as the door closed, she could hear them running down the hall, most likely to remove the effects of whatever it was that they did this time.

'So, miss Hall. Are you interested or not?'

She stared at the principal, then at the carpet, then at her shoes, then at the skirt her fists were clutching. She released the fabric and attempted unsuccessfully to smooth out the wrinkles.

'I...' she started hesitatingly. 'I...'

'I think it's the first time since I've met you that you're this scared, my dear.' she said, her voice a bit kinder.

She gave a nervous chuckle.

'Scared barely even begins to describe it, ma'am... I'm thinking about the implications here. I'd have to leave everything behind. My friends, my family, my skating... and I won't even be able to visit home very often. Rutherford is in West Virginia. The distance is too big, it's not worth flying or driving there and back for the weekends. In fact, I don't think I can even make it from there to here by car in a weekend. And I won't be able to skate there, the nearest rink is in DC, so I'll have to quit skating altogether...'

The room started spinning and she stopped mid-speech, clenching her jaw. Quitting skating... the words only hit her full-force when she said them out loud. How would her life be without skating? What would give her purpose? What would motivate her, if not her sport? She had only been off the ice for two days, and she was already going into withdrawals. What would she do, knowing that she wasn't going to skate again, at least not at the same level?

'It's a big move, ma'am,' she said, her eyes still downcast. 'And I'm not sure I'm ready.'

'You're as ready as you'll ever be.' said the elderly woman encouragingly. 'And you need it. Personally, I'm hoping you'll accept. I'd hate to give this to a student who isn't cut out for it, not like you. You have a week to decide.'

Jubilee drew in a deep breath, put on her best 'I'm-not-afraid' show face and nodded.

'A week.'