The Fun In Funeral

Chapter I

Well, I don't know a lot about how this whole therapy thing works but I do know one thing, I don't want to be part of it. I know it's part of my release, I have to go to therapy and become a true member of society once more. Blah, blah, blah. Come on though. They don't really believe this will do anything for us?

There's something funny about all of this, especially when you're sat silently in a room with six others in the same boat as you. None of us know what the others have done, all we know is we got off lightly with it.

I have to admit, this group is not what I expected. Some of them look like they belong here. The rest just look like, well, they look like teenagers. Just your average, hates mum and dad, won't socialise, likes their console too much, teenager.

It's quite difficult to read the room. Some are looking sorry for themselves, some are just engrossed in absolutely nothing. The boy sat next to me has my attention though. I can't read him, not because he's closed off and subdued, oh no, it's because the kid is shaking like a coke head going cold turkey. His knee is bouncing so fast, I don't know how he's not got friction burns on his thighs. He's playing with his hands, pushing the sleeves of his burgundy hoodie up only to pull them back down and repeat the cycle. His eyes are darting around, focusing on everything and nothing. It's kind of fascinating.

"Hello everyone, sorry I'm late." I turn to the door, looking at the woman who's walked in. She's probably late thirties, early forties, dressed in a pants suit and her hair neatly up in a tight bun. She looks kind, but her eyes are too focused. She's not missing anything. "I'm Megan. I'll be your group therapist. If you ever have any questions or queries, you should all have my number or your parents do." She takes the empty chair across from me, and when we make eye contact, I hold her gaze. "Let's do a little ice breaker shall we? How about your names and why you're here." Oh yay. Let's crack open the shitty coffee machine that tastes of rust and call it a fucking party.

No one says anything. Who would? It's fucked up, standing up and admitting what you did. It's difficult. Especially when no one knows your reasoning. Everyone will be afraid to get judged.

"I'm Cara." I state, eyes dragging across each person. I need a reason to continue, and I get it when the boy next to me finally focuses his attention to me. "I'm here because I took a baseball bat to a dickheads skull." Megan sighs, shaking her head at me. She can sigh all she wants, it's the truth isn't it?

"That's not quite what I meant but I suppose it's something. Anyone else?" No one rushes to say anything so the boy next to me does. He crosses his arms, knee bouncing at odd moments like a twitch.

"I'm Archer. I beat someone till they blacked out." Fair fucks, I wasn't expecting that. He doesn't look like that kinda kid. He's ginger, but not like an in your face, vibrant ginger. It's a warm, brownish ginger. He beat someone up?

"Names Kallie, I got drunk too many times and people didn't like it so here I am." I can see Megan getting frustrated but she doesn't say anything. The girl who said it is pretty, covered in piercings and her hair is dyed split red and black.

"My names Jayden. I was caught with one too many bags of powder in my locker." The kid who offers the information is... different. I mean, everyone here is different. But this guy? He looks like a douche bag. You can tell he comes from money.

"Okay, let's keep this rhythm guys." Megan suggests. A boy the opposite side of the circle stands up. Something is off with him but I can't quite put my finger on what.

"I'm Marcus! I'm here for vandalism." He seems a bit too, I don't know really, happy? He seems okay. I'm not sure.

"Hi, I'm Tegan, I got done for fraud." Straight to the point. I'm bored by this point.

"I'm Jordan. I got done for Arson." Megan smiles. She looks around at us all. One by one, people shrink away from her gaze. I feel weird myself. We're all very different. Very different.

"Very good. I hear you're all at college together." Are we? Almost everyone looks confused. Surely not? It seems like none of them have seen each other before. I wouldn't know. I went to a different college for my first year. "Oh? You didn't know? Well, you're starting your second year together, so maybe you could all be friends?" Yeah, good luck with that. "How about, we just talk this week and next week we'll start on making sure you're all sticking to your probations?" That's fine by me. I cross my arms, slouching in my chair and tapping my foot on every second beat. My meds are wearing off. I need to take them but I'm not taking them in front of these guys. No way in hell. Seems like no one really wants to move.

I glance at the boy sat next to me, and he does the same, both of us meeting each others gaze. He swallows, pushing his sleeves up before scooting his chair across to sit closer to me. I watch as he leans over.

"Hey, I'm Archer." I raise an eyebrow. "I just wanted to say I get it. Hurting someone. You had a reason, and no one can judge you until they hear it." I don't speak. For a second, I think he might scoot away, but instead he just keeps looking at me.

"He deserved it. That's all that matters." He smirks. "What are you taking then?" Might as well make a friend before we get our bed times and lists of rules.

"Engineering, Rugby academy and Psychology." He responds. He's got a warm air about him. He's ginger, not vibrant ginger, more of a auburn colour. His eyes appeared brown when I first looked at him, but he's actually got green eyes with golden rings. I can see he's a rugby player, he's built for it. Wide shoulders, big hands, strong build. He has a light dusting of freckles over his pale skin.  "How about you?"

"Psychology, sociology and entrepreneurship." I reply. He makes me feel at ease, so I relax, turning my body to face him properly. Other conversations have started up elsewhere. "Do you have Tina?" He smiles, winking at me.

"C block." So we're in the same class then? That's something I suppose. Last year I didn't really have friends. I was at a different college but still. This year it would be nice to get some. "So..." I can't help but smile. This shits so awkward. He seems to brighten up when I do, smiling back to reveal a cute little dimple on his left cheek.

"So." I repeat, looking about at the others. That Marcus kid, there's something about him. He's got dyed purple hair, more piercings than anyone else, and he dresses very  punk, emo. Chains and safety pins and hand painted jacket and boots.

He notices me looking at him. He doesn't make a move to come over, but I notice something. He's the only guy here with no stubble. I know that's a leap, but, sometimes 2+2 does equal 4 yaknow? Not that I really care. If he's a he, then that's what I'll call him.

"I wanna keep an eye on him too. Something tells me he'll get a lot of shit." I can't help but agree with Archer. He's not going to survive this year with a big convict target on his back. He certainly wouldn't last in prison if he reacts to shit thrown his way.

"I think you're right."