Don't Point Guns When You're Angry
the Session
Perry slouched; his dark clothes clashing with the red velvet of the chair. A man dressed too heavily for the abnormally humid weather sat attentively at the other side of the desk. The room was dark and the heavy oak door kept the hectic routines of the outside world out of the peaceful atmosphere. Dark blinds were sealed shut, but rays of sunlight still managed to seep through small spaces to reveal dancing dust particles in the air.
The man in the business suit has a strong, defiant nose which acted as a support for sturdy, thick-rimmed glasses. His friendly brown eyes look beady and sturn, and his complexion shows a past of acne scars. His tie is done up uncomfortably tight and his navy coloured suit is loose against his athletic built, yet not loose enough to look slopy. His dark hair is showing signs of balding as grey hairs begin to grow in.
Perry's black eyes were hidden behind strands of dirty black hair and his pale lips revealed a pouting smirk against a ghostly, smooth complexion. His messy outfit showed teenage rebellion; any passer-byer could have told you that- a leather jacket, roughed up red converse, chains, generally dark clothing. He crossed his arms and glared across the desk with attitude.
"Perry, how many times are we going to have to do this," the man asks sturnly.
"As many times as it takes to get you and your business partners off my back, Dean."
"Don't you understand? This is serious... You can end up in Juvenille Hall again."
"That doesn't scare me."
"Believe me Perry, nobody is fearless. I know that behind that attitude of yours, you're not so tough," Dean said with a smirk as if that was a priceless piece of information.
"Then in that case, maybe this time someone will actually get the chance to kill me in my sleep."
"Oh for Christ's sake! Grow up, I'm your attorney, not you're shrink."
"I know. Havn't you heard? I don't see her until Wednesday," Perry replied smartly with an overly dramatic hint of sarcasm.
"You know, your attitude makes it extremely difficult to co-operate with you. I'm trying, I really am. But I can't help you unless you help me. Perry, with the previous offenses this is serious . Smoking on school property? Fighting? Breaking and entering? You know better."
"You know, I never like school..."
"And you like juvy better?"
"Sure, being stabbed with plastic spoons and threatened in your sleep is fun," Perry stated sarcastically.
"Listen, I'm going to give you a break; pull some strings. I found some nice foster parents for you in California. They have money. Time. Time to straighten you out."
"What? You're joking. California? That's on the other side of the country!"
"Exactly," Dean said. "It's exactly what you need. You need to get out of New York. You have no legal guardian here and no friends-"
"I have friends here!"
"You call those hoodlums friends? They only want trouble; they aren't looking out for you. If you continue with where you're going, you're going to end up dead in an alley. You're a good kid. I'm giving you a chance- Don't screw it up."
Perry simply looked away and crossed his arms in a miserable pout. He didn't bother to say anything; he couldn't win with Dean. He listened patiently to Dean's plan and instructions and didn't bother to say anything other than the few groans and grumbles that escaped his mouth. To Perry, he could care less where he was. It wasn't going to make him get along with anyone any better. It wasn't going to give him a permenant home. Perry was a lone wolf. He decided he liked it that way. It made him feel safe. Secure. No one could hurt him if he didn't bother with them.
The man in the business suit has a strong, defiant nose which acted as a support for sturdy, thick-rimmed glasses. His friendly brown eyes look beady and sturn, and his complexion shows a past of acne scars. His tie is done up uncomfortably tight and his navy coloured suit is loose against his athletic built, yet not loose enough to look slopy. His dark hair is showing signs of balding as grey hairs begin to grow in.
Perry's black eyes were hidden behind strands of dirty black hair and his pale lips revealed a pouting smirk against a ghostly, smooth complexion. His messy outfit showed teenage rebellion; any passer-byer could have told you that- a leather jacket, roughed up red converse, chains, generally dark clothing. He crossed his arms and glared across the desk with attitude.
"Perry, how many times are we going to have to do this," the man asks sturnly.
"As many times as it takes to get you and your business partners off my back, Dean."
"Don't you understand? This is serious... You can end up in Juvenille Hall again."
"That doesn't scare me."
"Believe me Perry, nobody is fearless. I know that behind that attitude of yours, you're not so tough," Dean said with a smirk as if that was a priceless piece of information.
"Then in that case, maybe this time someone will actually get the chance to kill me in my sleep."
"Oh for Christ's sake! Grow up, I'm your attorney, not you're shrink."
"I know. Havn't you heard? I don't see her until Wednesday," Perry replied smartly with an overly dramatic hint of sarcasm.
"You know, your attitude makes it extremely difficult to co-operate with you. I'm trying, I really am. But I can't help you unless you help me. Perry, with the previous offenses this is serious . Smoking on school property? Fighting? Breaking and entering? You know better."
"You know, I never like school..."
"And you like juvy better?"
"Sure, being stabbed with plastic spoons and threatened in your sleep is fun," Perry stated sarcastically.
"Listen, I'm going to give you a break; pull some strings. I found some nice foster parents for you in California. They have money. Time. Time to straighten you out."
"What? You're joking. California? That's on the other side of the country!"
"Exactly," Dean said. "It's exactly what you need. You need to get out of New York. You have no legal guardian here and no friends-"
"I have friends here!"
"You call those hoodlums friends? They only want trouble; they aren't looking out for you. If you continue with where you're going, you're going to end up dead in an alley. You're a good kid. I'm giving you a chance- Don't screw it up."
Perry simply looked away and crossed his arms in a miserable pout. He didn't bother to say anything; he couldn't win with Dean. He listened patiently to Dean's plan and instructions and didn't bother to say anything other than the few groans and grumbles that escaped his mouth. To Perry, he could care less where he was. It wasn't going to make him get along with anyone any better. It wasn't going to give him a permenant home. Perry was a lone wolf. He decided he liked it that way. It made him feel safe. Secure. No one could hurt him if he didn't bother with them.