Chapter 65: Chapter Four

Demetri

Damn, that girl was hard to read and hostile to boot. One minute I thought we were flirting, the next she looked like she'd rather cut off my balls than say another word to me.

I never claimed to be the smartest guy when it came to the opposite sex, but she seemed like she was into me, and then like flipping a switch, she turned indifferent.

I shrugged it off and went into Mrs. Murray's office.

“Demetri, you're early.” Mrs. Murray said sarcastically.

Okay, fine. So I was rarely early to anything. Crap, I bet I was late to my own birth. But in my defense, the whole job thing had me running on a different schedule.

I started getting up at seven, eating lunch at noon like most people in this world, and going to bed at a decent hour in order to keep myself from falling asleep once I had to start work.

I had only been on my new schedule for a few days, and already I was feeling a bit suicidal, like any minute the boredom would finally get to me, and I'd wake up to find myself actually crazy.

“Have a seat.” Mrs. Murray pointed to the usual couch. I laughed and sat on the floor as was my custom. Something about sitting on the couch made me uncomfortable.

If I sat on the couch, it meant I was actually in therapy.

If I sat on the floor, I could convince myself I was just at Nat's house hanging out.

I was always like that.

Lucky for me, Mrs. Murray didn't mind, as long as I stayed out of trouble and actually participated in our sessions.

I leaned my back against the couch and sighed, running my hand through my still wet hair.

“How has work been?” Mrs. Murray asked once she took a seat and grabbed her notepad.

“Well, let's see.” I cracked my knuckles and laughed.

“So it's going well then?”

“I haven't been arrested yet for public intoxication or selling drugs to little kids, so sure. It's going well.”

“Two sarcastic appointments in a row. How did I get so lucky?” Mrs. Murray mumbled behind her notepad. I don't think she meant for me to hear.

“What was that?” I cupped my ear. “You weren't just complaining about your favorite client, were you?”

Mrs. Murray rolled her eyes. I laughed at her expression. She knew me far better than even Alec these days. I told her everything.

“So, this taffy job… do you feel like it's keeping you out of trouble?”

I leaned forward. “That's a dumb question.”

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows lifted.

“Watch.” I cleared my throat. “Asking if it's keeping me out of trouble is like asking a kid if school keeps him from joining a gang.

“Or if joining the football team keeps you from doing drugs and having premarital sex. Staying out of trouble has nothing to do with keeping your hands from being idle.”

I cleared my throat.

Mrs. Murray scribbled a few things down. “Now I'm intrigued, Demetri. What does it have to do with?”

I shrugged. “Color me weird, but I don't think giving away condoms keeps kids from having sex.

“I also don't think parents who allow their kids to drink at home are keeping their kids from underage drinking. And keeping me busy doesn't keep me from doing stupid shit.”

“Then what does?”

I grinned. “It all comes down to my self-control and my desire to be a better person. Occupying my time with tons of busy work just irritates me.

“If I'm going to do something stupid, or if any kid's going to do something stupid, they'll just wait until they have time to do it. Like after football practice, or after their job.

“Anyway, to answer your previous question, the job makes me want to kill myself, and I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible.” I exhaled and popped my knuckles again.

Mrs. Murray's eyes widened.

I hadn't meant to say that much.

I blamed the fact that my head was constantly clear. I was getting more and more honest about my emotions.

The silence was deafening. I cleared my throat. “I'm just going to go make some popcorn if that's cool?”

Mrs. Murray nodded.

I pushed to my feet and nearly ran out of the tiny office into the kitchen.

In a few minutes I had popcorn and a soda. I glanced back at the office door and took a deep breath, hoping to God that she wouldn't make me talk any more about my feelings.

It was quiet when I walked in. Mrs. Murray sat, legs crossed, waiting for me. I plopped onto the floor and tossed some popcorn into my mouth.

“We have about fifteen minutes left of our session, Demetri.”

She always did this, mainly because the first time we had a session I would ask how much longer we had, like every five minutes. Now she just told me, so I wouldn't interrupt her.

“Okay.” I sipped the sugary soda. It was nothing like beer.

My obsession with Starbucks had also skyrocketed over the last year. It was the only way to keep the cravings at bay.

I would drink soda during the afternoon and evening, and in the mornings I had at least three cups of coffee. I added non-alcoholic Kahlúa creamer in order to get my fix.

Keeping my fingers occupied, when all I wanted was a cigarette, also proved a problem. At nineteen, it wasn't like it was illegal, but smoking went hand in hand with drinking for me.

Nat had suggested licorice. It helped sometimes. Most of the time I just felt like beating my head against a wall.

“Demetri, did you hear me?”

“Hmm?” My head snapped up. I reached for more popcorn, but the bowl was empty. I really needed to start running or doing something so I didn't blow up from all the stress-eating.

Mrs. Murray set down her notepad. “I think we made a lot of progress today, Demetri.” She cleared her throat. “I also think you're right.”

“Pardon?” I sputtered.

“What you said about people making choices. I think you were spot on. Not only that, but it's a very wise thing for you to say at such a young age.”

“I'm nineteen,” I growled.

Her smile was patronizing. The type of smile you give a kid when they hold up their hand and say, “I'm five now!” I closed my eyes and rested my head against the cold leather couch.

“Yes, you are,” she agreed. “I think you'd be a good group leader too, Demetri.”

Was she high?

“Um, you know I'm kind of in a group, right? As in, my brother and I are in a group, and I'm the lead singer?” I was looking at her like she'd lost her mind.

“Got that.” She winked. “I mean a group leader in group therapy.”

I laughed. I couldn't help it. “I think I'm a little too messed up in the head to lead anyone right now.”

“Which is why you're perfect.” She stood and brushed her hands on her skirt.

“The rest of the group will relate to you, and I think you're ready for the next step.” She sighed and looked straight into my eyes. “Demetri, can I be honest with you?”

“Aren't you always?”

She gave me a hand up. I was towering over her as she slipped off her glasses and wiped them on her shirt.

“I don't think you're going to keep making progress until you start to heal, and I don't think you're going to start healing unless you deal with the grief you went through.

“I think you need to be around people who understand that grief. Maybe together you guys can work through stuff.

“Why the most dangerous?” I drew my eyebrows together and shoved my hands in my pockets.

Mrs. Murray returned her glasses to her face. “Because, you can lead people to success, or you can bring them down with you.”

“Kind of how Alec brought me down with the whole drugs and alcohol thing?”

She nodded and grimaced. “Yes. Though when you remind me of things like that, you make the mom side of me want to check up on him and Nat.”

“Nat's fine.” I rolled my eyes.

“Right.” She patted my arm and led me to the door. “Just think about it, okay?” She pushed a small, yellow paper into my hand. Did that mean I had to read it?

I stuffed it into my pocket. “Fine. Hey, is Nat home?”

Mrs. Murray tilted her head. “She didn't tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“One of the shows was canceled, so Nat flew down early to be with Alec.”

“Oh.” A stab of disappointment jammed my chest, irritating the hell out of me.

“Demetri?”

“Yeah?” I turned back around.

“You need to find some friends.”

Find? She made it sound like a Where's Waldo game. Crap. At this point I'd even settle for Waldo, but there were next to no normal people in this small town. Most of them partied anyway.

How did a person even make friends without partying? I laughed and shrugged her off. “Story of my life. I'll let you know how the search goes next time I'm out and about, singing my taffy song.”

“Okay.” She smiled warmly, and I left the house.

The warm summer air whipped my hair against my forehead. I pulled out my cell phone and sent a group text to Nat and Alec.

BOTH OF YOU SUCK. I HATE U. OH, AND I ALMOST CRIED IN MY COUNSELING SESSION. YOUR FAULT. BOTH OF U. P.S. I TRIED THREE FLAVORS OF TAFFY TODAY. SCORE!

I jumped into my car. Within seconds the phone buzzed. I looked down, and there was a picture of Alec and Nat both making sad faces, and below the picture it said, WE LUV U. STOP BEING A BABY.

MAYBE IF U EAT THE ALCOHOL-FLAVORED TAFFY, YOU'LL STOP BEING SUCH A GIRL. KIDDING. STAY CLEAN!

“Right.” I rubbed my eyes and started the engine, then remembered I lived next door. What the heck? Maybe I was losing my mind. The last place I wanted to be was home by myself.

Bob might get pissed, considering he's kind of like my babysitter, but still. I wanted to go. Out.

I put the car into drive and headed toward city center.