Free A Really Awesome Mess by Trish Cook

was, too.
    “So,” Tina said to start the group. “The first thing I want to say is that I don’t want you guys to look at this as a failure.”
    Nobody said anything, though you could read “yeah, right, lady” on pretty much everyone’s face.
    “I mean, okay, you guys did not earn the reward you were after, but look at what you did accomplish. Justin, did you think at this time last week that you’d go a whole week without losing
any
points?”
    I shrugged. “I guess not.”
    “Emmy, you’ve made tremendous progress this week.” As if on cue, Chip let out a belch that was almost certainly fueled by the beef taco he scooped off of Emmy’s tray when Mohammed knocked on the table.
    “ ‘Scuse me,” Chip said, and Emmy looked like she was ready to take him down.
    “And even Diana, who faced some challenges today, had her best week ever.” Tina smiled at Diana. Diana scowled back.
    Then Mohammed spoke. “I’m sorry, Tina, but it’s really hard for me to hear about how these rich privileged kids had such great weeks, and all I want to do is talk to my mom to see if my cousins are still
alive—
”
    “Now, I don’t think I can allow you to—” Tina began.
    “Will you put a fucking sock in it already?” Diana spat in Mohammed’s direction. He looked scarier than he ever had and glowered at her. If this were a cartoon, there would have been a lit fuse coming out of the top of his head. “I mean, get the hell over yourself. You’re always so goddamn self-righteous about howyou have important problems and the rest of us are just spoiled rich kids. But here’s the thing. You’re here. You are at Heartland Academy, which is not cheap. Tina, do you guys give scholarships to this hellhole?”
    “Well, you know, Heartland Academy strives to provide a really intense therapeutic—”
    And Emmy cackled. “That means no!” she laughed.
    “Right,” Diana continued. “So somebody is fronting a hell of a lot of money to put your grumpy ass in that seat. So that ‘I’m just a poor African thing’ is bullshit. I bet you there are people still in whatever toilet you come from who have to just live with the shit they saw and don’t get a high-priced therapeutic setting to work out their issues. Right? So who the hell are you to judge anybody?”
    I looked to Tina, who really ought to have put a stop to this. I was kind of afraid that Mohammed was going to kill Diana. But Tina just put on her “I’m a concerned, but disinterested party to this dispute” face, and we all stared at Mohammed.
    “How I am able to be here is none of your—”
    “Yeah, but see, it is our business,” Diana said. “Because you’re happy to throw your personal business in our faces as long as it makes you feel better than us. But now you want some privacy? Please.”
    Mohammed glowered some more. He clenched and unclenched his fists. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.Jenny not-too-subtly scooted her chair a few inches away from him. But Diana looked him right in his closed eyes, daring him to snap. It was like she actually wanted to throw down.
    Mohammed had four years, ten inches, and probably eighty pounds on Diana, and yet I really didn’t know who I would pick to win.
    “Ten bucks on Diana,” Emmy whispered to me.
    “You’re on,” I said. I had just bet on a seventeen-year-old boy to beat up a thirteen-year-old girl. I suspected this was probably wrong.
    Fortunately I didn’t have to face down the issue of feeling bad for winning ten bucks on an uneven fight or, you know, losing ten bucks, because this was where Tina stepped in. “Diana, we’ve all got a right to keep some things private. Nobody has any obligation to disclose their financials to you. And you,” she said, gesturing at Mohammed, “I am so proud of you. I can see how angry you are right now, and I just—you have made so much progress since you got here, and I just want you to know that I see that and honor it.”
    Tina’s eyes were moist.