"Come on. You have to tell me at least what you love to do."
I glared at the women in front of me.
"I'm not telling you anything."
The lady scoffed and sat back in her leather chair.
"Well,Amber,you need to tell us sooner or later."
I shook my head.
"No thanks."
"Fine. Your time is up. You may go."
I walked out of her office and into the waiting room where my mom was.
"I'm ready to go home now." I huffed.
My mom got up and walked towards me. She checked us out and we walked to the car.
"So,did you get helped with anything?" She asked,obviously knowing I didn't.
"The usual."
She started the engine and started backing up to pull out of the lot.
"You know,you need to tell that therapist of yours what's wrong and maybe you won't be so ill all the time."
I rolled my eyes.
"I'm not ill."
Okay so maybe I am.
I've been seeing a therapist for a couple years now. Why? Because I have depression and anger management. My mom,after 3 years,got tired of it and decided to bring me back to therapy.
Yes I said back.
This is probably my third year going to therapy.
Because I hardly told them anything until they gave up.
"You know,you could at least make some friends." My mom said,snapping me out of my thoughts.
"I don't need friends." I mumbled,looking out of the window.
"Well don't you want another girl around? To paint nails and talk about boys with?"
I looked at her confused.
"Mom you know I don't paint nails. Or talk about boys. The only boys I ever talk about is probably from a band."
"Well that counts as a boy doesn't it?"
"Not if they don't know you exist."
.
.
.
The next morning.
My curtains flew open and the sun practically burned my eyes off.
"Ugh close the curtains." I groaned.
"Come on,Amber. You need to get up. You have an appointment."
I rolled my eyes and sat up.
"Again?"
"Yes."
"Well hopefully I will make a psychotic friend."
"I hope you make a friend- but not in a therapy. That's just weird."
"You're weird."
"Your mom is weird."
"You're my mom!"
"Oh yeah."
.
.
.
We sat in the waiting room as I played a couple games on my phone.
"Amber?"
I look up and face my mom.
"Hm?"
"Are you hungry?"
I scoffed.
"When am I not?"
She nodded in agreement,still facing her phone.
"While you're in there I'm going to order some pizza."
"So you're just going to randomly call a pizza place in a waiting room?"
My mom rolled her eyes.
"I'm going outside,dummy."
"That makes more sense."
.
.
.
"I've told you. I'm fine."
Miss Wilson placed her head in her hands. Then I knew she had an idea once she propped her head up and looked at the door.
"I have an idea."
"Course you do."
She got out of her chair and walked over to her shelf. She grabbed a file and placed it on the desk.
"I'm confused? This isn't my file."
"What?"
"My file. This isn't mine. Mine has like little doodles I made when I was seven."
She looked at the file and read the name.
"Oh I know. This is someone else's."
"Really?"
The therapist rolled her grey eyes.
"Look. I am going to set you up with this person."
I sat up and grabbed the file.
Joshua William Dun
"And who's this Joshua guy?"
"You need friends. And so does Josh."
Josh. Repeated in my head,mesmerizing the name.
"So he's a lonely loser like me?"
"I kinda hate to agree with that but yes. He doesn't have any friends like you. And I figured if you both become friends maybe you two can talk out your problems to each other."
I knitted my eyebrows together and looked through the file.
"How long will this take?"
"Until I say it's over."
I started to open the tiny slip where pictures of Joshua was- or Josh.
He had one full arm of tattoos. It looked kind of like a forest but only one tree.
He was pretty tall,slim,and had wild hair.
His hair reminded me of cotton candy because of how pink it is.
He seemed pretty sad,but had a small smile on his face.
"Is there anymore pictures of him?"
Wilson went to the files with J and got out a tiny book.
"Here's from when he first got here."
"How old is he?"
"When he first got here he was about nine or ten. But he's around your age now."
"No way he's eighteen."
"He is."
"When do I meet Josh?"
"Not too long."
