"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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"How are you feeling about this?" Dr Chris asks, while shifting in his chair.
"Horrible. I do not want to go on a school trip with Support Group and school." I reply.
Dr Chris begins scribbling profusely in his notebook.
"Are you ashamed, Bradley?" He asks, momentarily pausing to look up for a reaction.
I shouldn't be afraid. Getting help is no bad thing. But, in almost everyone's eyes at school, I'm Satan and Jared is the helpless victim of my 'reckless actions.' When you mix Support Group into the equation, everything gets hugely messed up. I'll become mentally-unstable Satan.
I nod, as an answer to Dr Chris. He slaps his notebook closed.
"When I was your age, Bradley." He begins, wiping a bead of sweat off his eyebrow.
Great. Another 'when I was your age' story.
"I got very wasted at a party. Apparently, I started dancing on tables and annoying people."
I snicker at the thought of Dr Chris dancing on tables.
"From then on, everyone at school began to hate me. So, I found new friends at the local Church. They were total goodies and geeks." He adjusts his glasses.
"I didn't want anyone at school knowing I hung out with them. But, someone got hold of a photo of me with them. It circulated around the school within a day." Dr Chris lets out an exasperated sigh at reliving his childhood memories.
"At first, I was so ashamed. I used to hideout in the toilet."
Reminds me of someone.
"But, then, I owned it. Someone reminded me that those school kids had been nothing but horrible to me. My true friends were those Church kids, no matter how good or geeky they were. And if I couldn't accept them as my friends, nobody else would." Dr Chris reopens his notebook, signalling that storytime is over.
Maybe, I should own it. Own my friends. Support Group. What do I have to lose anyway? My corner cubicle of the toilet?
"Well, Bradley, I have some more news." Dr Chris wipes his glasses on the hem of his shirt.
I look up at him.
"The hospital's been calling me." He places his glasses back on the edge of his nose. "They're looking for volunteers to help around with cleaning and paperwork."
Oh no. I know how this story ends.
"Guess what?" Dr Chris lights up the room with his smile, while my scowl substantially darkens it.
"What?" I say sarcastically, even though I know what.
"I signed you up to volunteer after school, before your trip!" He replies like it's a good thing.
