Chapter Four

I do not do physiologists. I do not do counseling. I do not do 'family strengthening.' I don't need to talk to some stranger with spectacles and a big nose to make 'my life whole.' No. It's called self help books. Though, I don't do those either.



"I'm Dr. Jones, you can call me Blair," she held out her hand, expected me to shake it, give her my name. I didn't. Withdrawing her hand, she sat down in a poofy armchair, smiled. She wore small, delicate glasses, and her nose is a little button thing placed between two blue eyes. I sat back on the tan couch, staring at Dr. Jones. "We are here to help resolve some problems you might have. I've heard that you aren't doing so well in school. Do you want to tell me about that?"



"No."



"Why not?" She asked as she scribbled a few notes down in her notebook.



I quickly edit the first response that came to mind, one which included a few of the words that got me a detention with Ms. Ven last week. "Because I don't want to," I replied, crossing my arms.



"Okay, is there something else you'd like to talk about?" She leaned forward.



"Did your parents name you after the movie the Blair Witch Project?"



"No, why would you say that?" She took some more notes.



"You remind me of one of the characters,"



"I've never seen it," she smiled sweetly. I clenched my fists quietly. "How do you feel about your brother?"



I held back the flow of emotions that bombarded my brain. "Excuse me Mrs. Jones, but is there a bathroom here?"



"Yes, out the door, it's on your right."



I thanked her, slipped out the heavy door, and turned left.