First person is so easy, pswa

I walk into the counselor's office. She stares at my mom and I together, smiles, says hello, asks our last name (it's the third time the school has switched counselors on us) and pulls out the 4-year plan I wrote as a freshman.

"Let's see... so you want to be a writer and a jewelry designer."

Um, no. "She want's to be a broadcaster now," my mom adds, as if my silence just said something.

"Making jewelry is just a hobby," I say, now that I have permission. Haven't made jewelry in a year. Too expensive.

"Alright," the counselor says cheerfully, crossing out jewelry and writing "broadcasting". She looks up my grades and a small "Oh" escapes from her lips. She finally turns to me. "Yeah, you're doing really well."

Sometimes I actually do wish people would connect my intelligent-if-nothing-else brother to me. It would save time and envious glares. They wouldn't give me them if they knew how long I studied.

"Actually, we were wondering if we could change her schedule..." my mom brings up.

"Sixth period," I specify. The unresolved problem. The keyboard clicks as she find the available options.

She looks at me. "You still need a P.E. credit. Regular P.E. is full, but you could take weights..."

Right. You're referring to stick-arms over here lifting 20 lbs? Sorry.

"There aren't many options..." the counselor continues. "You signed up for 'future teachers' with your old counselor."

"Ooh, what's that?" my mom asks, suddenly excited.

"It's, um, where you help with the life skills kids." Even the counselor has a difficult time describing it in a positive light. I like helping people more than taking weights, so I'd signed up when I heard I had a schedule conflict.

"Oh," is my mom's all-inclusive answer. Completely neutral. "What else?"

Options. Right. More, please.

"Well, there's beginning dance..."

I blink. I'd signed up for that last year and changed after one day. Slowly, I answer; "I didn't stay with it last year because I didn't want to cause a problem for the teacher. I take face to face criticism badly... wouldn't want to be all weepy." Oh, and I'd be a Junior. In an all freshman class.

The counselor scrolls down some more. "Well..."

No. Don't say anything, mom. I'm not gonna be weepy. I went through that all through elementary school.

The counselor smiles. "You could take drama, but it wouldn't count for P.E., obviously."

"That sounds good," I answer carefully, aware that I don't have permission. To me, it's logical. Drama. Television. More stuff on my resume.

"Alright, let's try that," my mom concedes.
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*insert internal sigh of relief*
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Now, why couldn't I have done that with my novel...? *stares at revisions*