Two Poor Kids

"Come on, sweetie you'll be fine." My mom assures me. Not that she even NEEDS to, I'm not nervous, I'm just mad she's making me go. I have rehab right after this, why is she stuffing so much shit into my schedule? I sigh and tighten my shoelace (outfit here), and walk out of the car without saying anything to her.

I walk into the office, immediately being uncomfortable. This is probably the type of place that is built for BEING comfortable, but I'm the total opposite of what people expect. I look around at the room. The usual redish brown walls, with a fish tank. I take a seat and tap my finger nails on the chair nervously. I can feel the anxiety starting. I look around, and notice three chairs down, a boy who looks actually stand-able is sitting there, just looking at me.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing sorry." He immediately looks away. I slowly look over at him. He has dyed black hair, an eyebrow piercing, and an Australian accent, which I just realized. He looks cool. He's wearing a snap back, a band tee, with a jean jacket over it, black skinny jeans, and black boots. Huh.

"Uhh, I don't want to be here." I whisper under my breath.

"Why not?" He asks. Okay, um, really good hearing then.

"It's stupid. I don't need someone to TELL me what's wrong with me. I already know."

"What's wrong with you?" He asks, adjusting his hat.

"Everything." I smirk.

"I'm Michael." He says, leaning over the seats to shake my hand. I accept it and smile.

"Ms. Claires?" A lady asks. I walk into her office, and sit on the WAY to cushion-y couch. "Hi, I'm Tina." She smiles. I nod. Well no duh lady. "So I'm going to start off by asking a few questions, uh, I know you're sixteen, have you ever had a boyfriend?" She asking. Seriously?

"Uhm. Yeah I have. One, it was pretty brief though."

"Who ended it?" Jeez lady come down.

"I did."

"Could you tell me why?"

"He wanted me to have sex with him. I didn't want to."

"Okay. Okay, uh, do you have any friends?"

"Um. Not really. I basically just roll with whoever wants to hang out." I shrug, all of a sudden realizing how fucking unhealthy that sounds. She takes a note on her note pad.

"Any addictions?"

"What do you mean."

"Like, drugs, alchohol, food, violence, stuff like that."

"Uh. Marijuana, and cutting. I also think I have this weird addiction to ruining good things that come into my life." I say, doing my very bad to not make eye contact.

"Okay." She whispers, staring at me, probably trying to be empathetic. I just find it creepy. "So, why do you say that, Erin?" She asks me, putting her pen down.

"I don't want to talk about it." I know that sounds lousy since I'm supposed to talk to her, but that part I'd rather not get into details with.

"Alright, well, are you a virgin?"

"Technically yeah."

"Technically?"

"I mean, I've done a lot. Like, a LOT, but I've never actually gone all the way." I shrug again. She talks to me for the next hour about a bunch of random stuff I didn't listen to, and then I get to finally leave.

When I walk out of the office, I look around expecting to see Michael, but he's no where to be found. I shrug and start walking outside, the hot sun blinding me. I hate summer. I look to my left and see the street, and to my right is a guy lighting a cigarette. Go right.

I put my hands in my leather jacket and listen to my heeled boots clap on the hard concrete, over to the guy. Oh, it's Michael!

"Hey." He smirks, lighting the cigarette.

"Can I have one?" I ask. He raises an eyebrow, concerned, "Oh my god, come on, please?" I ask, reaching my hand out.

"I dunno..." He looks around. I grab the box out of his hands and smoke one of the cigarettes. The smoke runs flawlessly through my lungs, and back out my mouth. I hand the box back to him.

"Wow, you're pretty good at that." He smiles. I shrug and sit on the hard concrete.

"I guess." I say as he sits down next to me. "I mean I should be, after doing it for almost three years."

"How old were you when you started?" He asks.

"I dunno, like fourteen?"

"Shit." He mumbles.

"Yep, I'm just full of shit." I laugh. "What were you doing in there anyway?" I ask.

"Oh, I have depression." He shrugs.

"That isn't that bad." I laugh, like, why was he even in there? He pulls up his jacket to reveal a million huge cuts.

"It is for me."

"Sorry." I mumble, smoking more now.

"I never got your name." He says, pulling his sleeve down, but for some reason, I wish he didn't.

"Erin." I answer.

"That's a pretty name." He says.

"Mm, what are you gonna call me doll face now?" We laugh.

After an hour of talking with Michael, I start walking home, since my mom refuses to drive me back from places. When I get home, I immediately go into my room, which is covered in black items, and black clothes. I take out my phone and text Michael with the number he gave me.

ME: hey who r u.
MICHAEL: so nice, it's michael.
ME: okay.
MICHAEL: do i not get a name?
ME: erin.
MICHAEL: okay, what's up?
ME: you wanna go somewhere?
MICHAEL: huh?
ME: i'm really bored.
MICHAEL: oh, well, i would, but i have this.. um thing.
ME: what's an um thing?
MICHAEL: something you'd make fun of.
ME: try me.
MICHAEL: i have to go to a function my mom put together and she's making me so..
ME: no. way.
MICHAEL: what?
ME: YOU'RE LIKE THE BOY VERSION OF ME.
MICHAEL: what?
ME: i have those stupid fancy functions all the damn time!
MICHAEL: do you live in Lizmoore community?
ME: uh huh. u?
MICHAEL: yeah. wow i didn't think a girl like you would live here.
ME: a girl like what?
MICHAEL: nothing.
Me: ?
MICHAEL: no it's fine. i gtg bye.

I turn off my phone and sit there on my bed. So... The cool person I meet... Lives in the same shitty neighborhood as me? Wow. That's amazing.

I can't wait until I have to see him at the function my mom is making me go to right now.

Notes