The Spare To The Throne

Chapter 51: Taste

"What you did was stupid," Mason states before sending a stone ripping through the pond.

I bend down, picking up some stones of my own. "I'm reminded everyday," I retort, tossing a stone into the water too. It doesn't skip though, just drops down with a plop. I purse my lips.

"Yeah, well good. This place is good for you,"

I turn around to peer at the outlandish brown building behind us. It's name is 'Youth Village,' and it glooms. "Is it?"

Mason peers around too. "Yes,"

I shake my head in disagreement before hurling another stone into the water. "It's gives me, ugh,"

"Ugh?" Mason reiterates.

"Yeah, like that's the vibe from this place. Bland and ugh," I stick my tongue out to emphasize my bleakness.

Mason shakes his head, chuckling lightly.

"You need this," he says seriously, his laughter is now long gone. "I want my old sister back,"

I peel my gaze away, grabbing a handful of more rocks. I'm gonna miss him, even though he'll come back tomorrow. He's gonna leave and I'm going to miss him again.

"I know," I reply. "You'll get her soon. She's just..." my voice trails off and in my peripheral I see Mason staring. "In the making." I nod, satisfied with that answer.

Youth Village- Counseling/Therapy Mental Health Service Center is currently my new home. My temporary stay away from mom, dad, and Mason. The program I'm enrolled in is only six weeks long but it feels eternal.

"I want Jambalaya tomorrow," I say aloud and await his response.

"Okay, but you have to start talking to your therapist," he says, prompting an exchange for his service. I suck in my teeth. It's no secret that I've been sitting in my daily sessions, hush mouthed. My therapist, Dr. Harlow just fires questions at me and I just sit there, blank faced. There's something unnerving about sitting in that chair and watching that woman talk to me as if she actually cares. I know she's being paid to do her job, and that's just the problem. She's being paid.

So how do I know that she's genuine in seeking my well being. Her paycheck won't change a bit whether or not I answer her. As a result, our sessions are filled with her own rambles and suddenly the roles are reversed. I'm the therapist for the next sixty minutes. An unsettling notion.

"Deal," I simper towards him. My hand sticks out to clasps his and it was finalized.

"You're doing it wrong by the way," he grabs a rock from my hand skipping it across the water effortlessly. I count nine skips. That's the longest so far. Ripples of different sizes ring behind. "You have to do it fast,"

I give it a try, lobbing the stone quick and hard. The rock skids, tearing the surface of the water in three skips.

"Good, again."

I repeat the action, this time gaining two extra skips. Mason throws his in and of course he out performs me. He sends me a sheepish grin.