Ash is a fashion model, not by choice but the desire of his projecting mother. People think he's too cocky for his own good, judging him based on what he posts online. But Ash hates the brush he's been painted with, along with the stereotypes of the...
recognition: (noun) 1. identification of someone or something or person from previous encounters or knowledge.
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"One hundred hours community service," my mum exhales as we exit the town court. She grabs onto my dad's shoulder and nods. "It could be worse, thank yourself lucky, Ash."
I glance down at my feet, the clunky tag bracelet clung to my ankle. "Yeah because I'm sure as hell going to be setting trends and making opportunities with this thing." I say sarcastically, shaking my leg.
My mum opens her mouth to speak but my dad gets there first. He sweeps between us and offers me a supportive smile. "Hey, tag isn't so bad. It could have been twelve weeks in prison, you got off lightly."
"I know," I nod in his direction.
"Right," he claps his hand onto my back. "Let's head down to the probation office and meet your probation officer, we don't want to keep them waiting. Need to set a good example that you're serious about this."
I follow them to the car and my mother drives us a few minutes down the road. We park outside a rundown building, of course this had to be it. Like the government wanted to spend their money on a meeting ground for previous offenders.
We sign in and wait to be called, my mother continues to glance around, her knee jolting in an annoying jitter. Why she feels nervous is beyond me... I'm the one who has to give back to the community and walk around with this fucking tagging machine.
"Ash Knight?" A woman pokes her head around the edge of the room, papers glued to her hand.
I stand and my parents instantly follow me. She smiles and holds out her hand, my eyes gravitate to her black suit with a white shirt. "Hi Ash, I'm Carol and I will be your probation officer for the duration of your community service. If you'll follow me."
My parents follow close behind me, Carol holds open a door which I presume is for her office. We take a seat as she sits opposite at her desk, shuffling with some papers before she speaks.
"Well," she flicks her eyes up to us and places her arms onto the desk. "It's nice to meet you guys. I've just been sent over all of your paperwork, Ash. Has your electronic tag been fitted?"
"Yes."
"Great. So there are a few things to discuss." She glances at me and then between my mum and dad. "First of all your court order is one hundred hours community service, this means during this time you will have to help with community restoration."
My mum leans forward and I wish that she doesn't speak, but of course she does. "So what exactly will Ash be doing, for his community service?"
Carol looks at my mum and nods. "The local community has recently invested in an abandoned manor in the centre of town. It hasn't been touched for years and it has been purchased so we can turn it into a meeting place for the people of this community. A place to hold events and fundraisers."
