"It's day 10, Isla. I wish you would wake up. I've lost everything and you're the only person who understands."
Bradley Monse used to have everything. He was the star basketball player. He dated the most popular girl. He had good grades and friends...
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"Hey, Bradley." Dr Chris says beckoning me into the ripped brown couch opposite him. His ginger hair is ruffled and the glasses usually hanging on the edge of his nose for dear life have disappeared. He looks like he's going through a rough time.
"Hi." I reply, leaning my crutches on the side of the couch.
"So, wassup?" He asks.
A lame attempt at coolness. Something Dr Chris is never going to master. To be honest, I'm not currently mastering it either.
"Nothing."
"How was Support Group?" He smiles.
"Great! I met the wonderful Christopher." I say sarcastically.
Dr Chris sighs. "Well, you met my twin brother."
"Twin brother?" I can't help but show my confusion, I always suspected Dr Chris and Christopher were related, but twins?
"Yep." Dr Chris nods.
"What so your parents couldn't come up with two different names?" The edges of my lips twist upwards into a smile.
"Very funny." Dr Chris looks serious, but then suddenly breaks into a very uncool laugh. "But, sadly true."
I feel for him. Having an identical twin brother with the same name. Imagine what high school was like!
"But, how was Support Group?" He trails back to the prior topic.
"Great. I made some friends." I say, casually leaving out the fact that they're a shoplifter and previous druggie.
"That's awesome, Bradley." He pats me on the shoulder; it's an awkward exchange for both of us.
"Yeah. We even went to a party."
Why, Bradley? Why did you bring the party up? Moron.
"How was it?"
"Eventful." Is the only word that comes to mind.
Being a counsellor, Dr Chris decides to investigate further.
"Eventful?" He raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah, high school party. Eventful." I repeat.
"Why?" He asks. "You could say fun or cool, but you said eventful."
I say the first thing I can think of to get him off my back.
"I got a girlfriend." I blurt.
"OMG! Who?" Dr Chris asks in that 'I'm-so-proud' look.
"Molly," I look at Dr Chris' ever-scruffy desk. "Scruffy. Molly Scruffy." I say. "She's a pageant queen from Utah."
Don't laugh Bradley. Just don't. I'm doing everything in my power to not laugh.
