Gucci in Juvie

Chapter 7

"I know you, the look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.'

-Once Upon A Dream, Lana Del Rey

This friendship was off to a great start, I could tell.

During the one hour after our handshake, I had already smacked Nathan 4 times (twice on the head, once on the arm and once........somewhere else) and he had already messed up my hair and very nearly poked my eye out with a crayon.

'What are we even doing?' I asked.

Nathan gave me an exasperated glance. 'I don't know if this is how all friendships start, but for some reason, I think we're doing it wrong.'

'No kidding.'  I huffed and shuffled slightly away from Nathan.

The problem with us was that we were pretty violent. Nathan had no qualms about hitting a girl (equality for all....?) and I certainly would not hold back if I got the chance to injure Nathan in some way, which just made this budding friendship....go bust.

Just then, a bell rang really loudly to signal the end of our current session and I quickly shoved my hands over my ears, wincing at the high-pitched sound.

'Don't worry, you get used to it after a while.' Nathan assured me as we stood up.

'That's the nicest thing you've said to me since we shook hands.' I blinked at him. 'And it wasn't even that nice.'

'Yeah, well, I try.' Nathan shrugged modestly and gave me a coy glance from underneath his eyelashes.

I laughed and then stopped myself because my laugh always sounded like I was a chain smoker in a past life, who had been smoking for 10 years straight and had also eaten a handful of gravel for lunch everyday. 

But it was funny. Nathan being coy = Nathan looking creepy.

'So what are we doing now?'

'Um...' Nathan glanced at the crumpled schedule in his hand. 'Getting Acquainted.'

I watched his brow furrow. 'That's weird, I've never seen that on my schedule.'

'Maybe it's because I'm new or something like that.'

'Yeah, probably.' Nathan pointed over to a room with the session's name written on the door. 'There.'

We headed over, our shoulders brushing more than they should have. I noticed a certain flush taking over the pale colour of Nathan's neck and I struggled to keep my cheeks from turning pink.

Seriously? Was a touch of the shoulders all it took to make us blush? Like little fifth-graders having a crush on each other. 

Except we weren't fifth graders.

And we didn't have a crush on each other.

Not even a teeny-weeny one.

No.

When we reached the door, Nathan turned the knob and pushed inwards. The door swung open.

Inside, there sat a small man with a bald head and a twirled moustache on a menacing looking office chair. There were a few potted plants in the corner, with the stems at different heights to create a layered effect. In front of the man was a coffee table and a wooden chair on each end of the table. Behind him was a dark cabinet with a glass door, which enabled me to see the files and pieces of paper stacked haphazardly inside.

A window on one of the walls had black curtains in front of it, which were drawn together but not entirely, leaving a strip of light to shine through and reflect on the bald man's head, which that became brighter than the light of a thousand suns.