Jamie Calder Jones (about_face) wrote in genome_project, @ 2010-04-19 16:29:00 |
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Current mood: | uncomfortable |
Entry tags: | april 2010 |
Who: Jamie and Chris
What: Session with the school shrink?
When: Monday, first lesson after lunch
Rated: pg-15 for possible swearing?
Jamie was sitting lower than he needed to in the chair. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, knocking against the leg of the table in front of him. Every time he tipped his foot to the side, it made a hollow thunking sound and the vibrations were shown in the bottle of water that was perched in the middle. It rippled but was confined to the plastic case that kept it trapped.
He didn’t want to be in here, but he understood and knew the reasoning behind his teachers sending him to the school shrink. He’d managed, so far, to avoid sitting in this office. He was just thankful it didn’t have motivational pictures and inspirational quotes plastering the wall like some kind of tacky wall paper.
Fingers running through his hair, styled upwards (and he didn’t care if Sam mocked him for it, doing his hair made him feel better) in a ‘do that was fairly distinct - it always stuck out above the other students’ heads anyway - Jamie huffed out a breath and waited. He’d been told to just let himself in to Mr Martin’s office, that the counselor would be along in a minute to see him, that he should just sit tight.
It was only a matter of time before he was pulled into this office. He’d had a fair few detentions, he hadn’t been doing his homework and as he’d grown up he’d changed, withdrawn and he knew it. He’d pulled away from everyone - including his family - and lost that sense of who he was. He lost his purpose too, or so everyone seemed to think.
Stretching his arms above his head, Jamie felt something in his lower back pop and for a moment, a sense of panic swept through him; what if that was the start of something changing? But when nothing else shifted and he felt a sense of release along his lower back he relaxed, it was just that, tension releasing.
He laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles, getting to his feet and walking over towards the bookcase in the corner of the room. It felt kind of oppressive, but only because Jamie really didn’t want to be there. If he was there because he needed to talk to someone, then maybe he’d find the whole place a lot more comforting. As it was, he just felt like he was having his failure laminated and that he was being smacked in the face with it. People - normal kids - didn’t visit the school shrink just because they couldn’t do their math homework, or their english homework. He was a particularly special brand of retard, clearly.
He thought he heard footsteps outside and he froze, fingers having snagged on a psychology book. He pushed it back into place and returned to the chair, slumping down into it like he might melt and dribble away if he tried hard enough. Where was Sam when he needed him?