Be Somewhere

“You see Lily, my friends are dicks and took what I said wrong,” Ricky tried to lie. When he raised his eyes to the mirror, he found that he didn't even find himself believable. He cleared his throat and tried again. “My friends are kind of perverts, you don't have to worry about them though, Danny's gay and Brad's bisexual, but he's into... I actually don't know what he's into but you don't have to worry... anyway the dream, yeah, no they took that wrong.” The mirror in the boys room mocked him again. He would have to wing it and pray that she believed him.

Meandering down the empty halls, he couldn't figure out where everyone was. The bell was supposed to be ringing about now, and students were supposed to be piling into the hall. He looked around into classrooms; every single one of them was empty. Ricky continued to wander aimlessly through the halls; unsure of whether or not he was supposed to be somewhere. He had skipped the block after lunch on purpose to practice his lies, but where was everyone?

“Ricky?”

The voice crawled up his spine and grated against his ear drums. Why was it that the school counselor always found him at the most inopportune moments? The counselor called to him again and he increased his walking pace.

“Ricky, I swear that if you don't stop right now I'm going to suspend you!” His feet froze to the floor as he waited for the older man to catch up. Ricky cringed under his harsh glare. He bit his lip and studied the floor. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he was in trouble.

“Why aren't you in assembly?” He looked up to meet the blue eyes that were trying to bore holes in him and smiled. So that's where they had gone; assembly. Ricky shoved his hands into his pockets and smirked at him; not saying a word. “You're refusal to talk to me isn't going to help you out in the long run, young man.” His smirk widened and grew into a stifled chuckle.

“And what good would speaking to you do me?”

The counselor tried to contain his gasp at the words that came from Ricky's mouth. He had made it a point to never speak in this school before. But Ricky had made it a priority to have the next two weeks be different from any other. They were his last, and they must be special.

“I think you need to step into my office.”

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Ricky glanced around at the many degrees and photos that were held in frames which littered the walls and desks. Ricky thought about the term child psychology. What was the point in specifying your degree if you're going to work in a middle school? The teenagers were just going to pain you and refuse to answer; or lie.

“Ricky, you spoke.”

Ricky rethought his outlook on child psychology; it wasn't that the psychologist was for children, it was that he had the mental capacity of a five year old girl.

“Observant.”

“You don't speak.”

“Now even you must know that that's impossible. I must speak; just because I don't do it in front of you doesn't mean that I don't speak.” Ricky watched with disinterest as the psychologist started to question him. He tuned the other person out with thoughts of his own.

Logically; why would a person who has a PhD in child psychology work at a middle school in a crappy town with a population of less than a thousand people? Logically; they wouldn't. He stared at the man again, trying to guess his salary based on his outfit. He was payed more than a teacher, but less than someone who worked in the local legal department.

A state officer.

Ricky began to shake in his seat. This man; this psychologist; this creature of darkness; was something that he had learned to fear. The room felt too hot for the cold sweat that was beginning to cling to every fiber of his being. His clothes stuck to him and he shifted awkwardly to avoid the discomfort. He started to chew on the inside of his cheek as he watched the seconds tick by.

A social worker; the state sent in a social worker.

He cringed at the memory of them; his hands being tugged on as his mother was shoved into a police car; her screams that she would get him. Anger welled up inside him and a bitter tear welled in the corner of his eye. It would be different this time; he promised himself; this time they had no proof. As he reminded himself of the bruises that lay on every inch of unexposed skin he also reminded himself that they could have proof, but he wasn't about to hand it over to them.

Ricky turned his eyes to face the social worker for the first time since entering the office. He felt as though he was surfacing from the water as he was finally able to understand what the man was saying.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Fuck you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know what you are, get away from me!”

He looked at Ricky sympathetically for a moment before replying: “I'm your school counselor Ricky; nothing more, nothing less.” Skepticism rolled off of Ricky's body in waves that permeated the room and made the air a little thicker. “What do you think I am?”

“You're a social worker, I'm not an idiot,” Ricky glared at him again, “You may be able to fool them. but you can't fool me. Dr. Marques.”