Slick.

My Friends Call Me Slick- Part 2

Lunchtime

George and I sat in the common room, each having Pot Noodles from the microwave. I told him what happened with Maxi, he sat there and laughed, I pushed him off the chair; probably because I wanted to laugh at myself. When lunch was over I came home, got changed and went to my counselling  to see her and report on how I was finding writing a diary. I have to tell her all kinds of thing: School? - rubbish, Friends? - the same, still good and Girls? - gorgeous but I won't tell her what girls though, I'll keep her guessing.

I was late and rushing, I missed the bus. I had to sit in this tiny room when I got there. On the door it read "help you through waiting room" I rushed past that and was about to go into her office when this annoying woman or man told me to sit down. I knew there was nobody in there she does this every time I come for a session. Then the office phone rang and about a second later the receptionist or sectary (I'm not up to date with the whole lingo thing) spoke to me for only the second time of the day and said "Miss Launsheere will see you now" she could be on the apprentice because she just had that tone of voice of the girl that sits outside Allen Sugars office, it was dead on.

Getting to Know Me

So I walked into this cramped room, it was really small, minute it was even smaller than the waiting room. If I had to describe the colour of the paint on the walls I would have to say that old fashioned pinkish cream colour when you could only see it was pink if you were really looking. On both sides of the wall stood big book shelves (cheap and nasty, probably from IKEA) they took up most of the room and in the middle was Grin-Chin's desk, fake mahogany, creaked like an old man every time you lent on it. It was split into two sides: 1. the 'patient' - it just had a white plastic chair probably from some cheap shop as well and 2. Her side-now she had a big leather chair just like the one from James Bond all it was missing was a white cat. On her desk she had a computer with the screen facing her, a pot of pens one I might add was Winnie The Pooh and lots of picture frames. I've never seen what's on them though, it could be pictures of cat or for all I know she could have a whole family of little Chins (CREEPY!)

We sat down then we started talking.  As I figured she asked about school and I told her rubbish, she asked about friends and I told her good, the same as usual and then to complete the trio Mrs Williams asked me about girls, here I did something she wasn't expecting I wasn't even expecting it, I told her NOTHING! You see I got this little feeling down the back of neck where my hairs stood up that if I told her I liked Maxi she would flip out I mean maybe because they have the same surname that in my sick, twisted mined I thought they were related but I don't know what's done is done.     

Today my 10th session, she did something I wasn't expecting. She asked me to talk about Egypt! I was shocked, stunned horrified even. Who is she to tell me to talk about 'IT'. Too be honest I'd tried not to think about it. It had been filled away in a led case with a big iron padlock on it and the key had been lost among homework, girls, home life and any random thing that was in my brain. I started to explain what happened; I got to about "It was the fifth day of trip" and I just couldn't go on. It had taken me 10 minutes to get to there.  Grin-Chin was no help to me; she sat there taunting me with this expressionless face. After about 10 minutes of us looking blankly at each other she said "Did you love her? Is that why it's hard?" I mean what kind of a question is that?! By now I was about ready to crack. I just got up and left, for fear I may have hurt her (you think that violence is a big way of expressing myself but it's really not) I know I shouldn't want to hit her but why would I love her? She was thirty, and my teacher, I like girls my own age. I could have over reacted I guess. I think it got to me because Mrs Williams wasn't even I good person, let alone a councillor. She doesn't make any small talk, just straight to the point. If all she thinks is that a sixteen year old boy must love his teacher then she needs to stop watching her soaps and start reading some more. I guess it's a good thing that she can't read this or I think she'd blow a gasket.