Rude

She stands in front of the mirror and looks at herself. Light blue dress and matching sandals against sun kissed skin, brown hair let loose except for two strands of hair pinned by a little bow. Anyone who looks at her sees her as this strong and confident girl. One that is athletic and smart. And she is. But at the same time, not really. She has too many problems to count. Before they can resurface from the corners of her mind, she shakes her head. She can't think of them; not when she has to pretend that she's okay so her mom and grandmother won't make her stay at that therapy thing. The brunette female straightens her posture and fixes her dress a bit, then joins her mom in the car.

Her mom reminds her of how long the session will be and that she should behave and some other things. She just nods, not really bothering to take it in. In a blink of an eye, she stands outside the therapist's door. Hand shakes, heart pounds a bit. Palms become sweaty and knees weak. But she tries hard not to feel nervous and takes a deep breath. Then turns the handle.

Eyes -prying and curious- go directly to her. They prick her skin and make the hairs at the back of her neck stand up. She's used to the attention, but wants to shield herself from this unwanted one. Wants to shield herself from this one because it makes her feel like she's the center of the critics' attentions. Like they are expecting for her to make a mistake to laugh at her. And it's stupid because she doesn't even know the three teens, and they don't know her.

Gilda stands and smiles. "Savannah," she says. "I wasn't expecting you today. I mean, I thought you would've liked to have this Monday to go out with friends."

"Mom wanted me to start today," she replies smoothly. Is glad her voice doesn't quiver.

The therapist nods. "Well, have a seat." She signals to the chairs and Savannah takes a seat next to a boy with freckles and glasses. "Everyone, this is Savannah and she'll be part of our group." There is a chorus of 'hellos' and she manages to smile. Gilda hands her a pen and a worksheet. She's confused, but accepts them and looks over the paper.

'Anger,' it's titled. The name makes her raise a brow. There are questions about what angers someone, ratings from one to ten. One obviously being the first.

"What is anger?" asks the woman.

A girl with black hair and bright red highlights opens her mouth to speak. "Anger is an intense emotion which can at times blind a person and make him or her to do rash things."

Gilda nods. "Correct, Briana," she praises. "We all experience anger and know what it is. Some of us better than others." There are a couple of nervous coughs. "And feeling angry is fine. It is part of being human. But the way we handle anger is what makes it wrong or not wrong. In your worksheet, you will answer the questions, alright?"

Gilda lets them think about it, and Savannah thinks. Never before had she thought about what makes her angry. But there is always a first time for everything, and for some odd reason, she already knows she will be thinking deeply about everything in each session.

Quickly, she scribbles down what makes her blood boil. Once she finishes, she reads it over and bites her lip. The things she has written down make her feel ashamed. Never had she realized how much her mom and dad make her feel. Guilt and slight anger mixed with sorrow flushes into her. Oh, God. She should have just let the paper blank and pretended that nothing makes her angry. Because realizing how angry she is at her parents makes her taste something bitter.

Discussion begins and each teen shares what makes him or her angry. Briana is angry at her boyfriend for being an asshole while Mike -the boy next to Savannah- is angry at his older brother for making social workers to come to their house continuously. Another boy -this one with golden hair and hazel eyes named Ron- says he is mad at his dad for being a "fucking cheating bastard" and making his mom cry. It's her turn now, and it makes her queasy to have to admit who is at fault for making her mad. She clears her throat and shifts in her seat. Looks at the paper and opens her mouth. But just as she's about to admit that her parents anger her, the door opens.

Briana chirps, "Good to see that you showed up."

Mike adds, "Seeing your face lightens my day."

And Ron finishes with, "Man, you look good."

Savannah blinks as everyone -including Gilda- laughs. She looks up and catches sight of neatly combed, dark brown hair, fair skin, well-built body, and piercing stormy blue eyes. Those eyes meet her own, and she feels... weird. Not a lovestruck weird, but something-else weird. Like something is off about him. She blames it quickly on the looks, because no one can be that handsome. Except if it's a Greek God, but still.

"Take a seat," Gilda tells him as she hands him a paper and a pen. The boy glances briefly at the paper and writes something down. Then he looks up at Gilda, as if saying 'what now?' "Savannah was just beginning to tell us what makes her angry."

The boy nods and looks at her. Great, another pair of eyes. She's even more nervous now that there are five people looking at her. But she'll pretend that they aren't there. She clears her throat and starts reading off of the paper. The other team members, when the other team scores, when her team loses. Her dad. When she misses a shot or an opportunity at the field. Her mom. When people give her a hard time after a lost game. When she gets a B on a test, when her grades drop a bit and when she has to depend on others for emotional support. Gilda and the others stare at her with clear surprise. It's clear that she should've just left the paper blank. Especially now since Gilda opens her mouth and starts sort of lecturing her. And that angers her a little.

"It's alright to make mistakes," begins Gilda. "No one is perfect. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. You just put unnecessary stress on your shoulders and it becomes sort of a problem because then you can't tolerate anything else. Just food for thought."

Savannah nods, lips pressed into a tight line and face stoic. The brunette female tries hard not to sigh or look at the clock that leans against the wall. Even if she is itching to do so. A voice interrupts her thoughts, makes her head snap in the direction it comes from. Stormy eyes against chocolate ones.

"Try not to get mad. You can do that by finding an anchor. It's hard. Especially when your heart is pumping adrenalin and hot anger into your veins, but it works," says the boy. She feels her brow arch as she slowly nods. "As for the academic thing, try hard not to stress. If you have your grades higher than a C, you can always be on the team of whatever sport-"

"Volleyball, tennis, water polo, basketball," she cuts without being able to help herself. Those are few sports she plays, but she doesn't dare tell more because she's already said too much.

He nods and continues, "You can always be on the volleyball, tennis, water polo and basketball teams. And you can always get a scholarship through sports."

Savannah knows this. Had checked the second she got into seventh grade. Not that she needed to check then since all her coaches had told her about the sport scholarships ever since she joined a sport. But, still. She did it just to make sure. And she doesn't bother NOT telling the guy this. It surprises her that she's telling him that she knows and explaining why she HAS to get good grades. That she has it as some sort of backup plan in case of getting injured and ruining her opportunity to get a sport scholarship. That she needs to be at the top of her game if she wants to be successful, because really. What good is a sport scholarship if she has no advanced classes? If she will just be the weapon and not the controller?

The boy nods, in understanding or just to humour her, she isn't sure. But there is something in his eyes that makes her think that he does understand her. And for some odd reason, she likes that. He smiles gently at her and then scans his paper briefly. He glances up at her, and it's like he's speaking directly at her. Like they are the only two people in the room; like they are friends and have known each other for a long time. She should feel awkward and slightly disturbed, but she doesn't. The rest of the session goes in a blur. She finds herself staring at a paper that asks reflective questions. Questions like: How will this be applied in your life? What did you feel/what did it remind you of? And things like that. Easy and simple yet slightly deep questions. She hands the paper back to Gilda, as well as the worksheet and pen. Everyone else does the same and leaves after saying bye to Gilda. Savannah follows their example.

She waits for her mom. Checks her phone and wonders if she should call. Decides not to. The brunette sighs and shifts her weight onto the other foot. Her eyes scan the road, but there are no signs of her mom. And an odd sense of panic bubbles in her chest. Flashbacks of her past make her vision blur and breathing to hitch. She shuts her eyes tight and bites her lip hard. Tries hard not to think about how life used to be. But it's kind of hard since there is a type of pressure on her chest. It makes her feel like she's suffocating; like she's drowning and there is no escape. It's temporary, won't last long. This has happened before, and she should be used to it. Yet it's not possible to get used to feeling desperate and helpless. No person in their right mind could ever get used to this type of suffering. And just when it seems like it's been going on for hours, it eases. Her breathing returns to normal, as does her pounding heart. Her whole body relaxes and she sighs.

"It is Savannah, right?" Says a voice. Her heart jumps and she automatically whirls around, ready to strike. The boy with the stormy eyes holds his hands up in mock surrender. She sighs and relaxes before standing up straight and fixing him a half hearted glare.

"Yeah," she replies.

He stretches his hand out to shake hers. Confused by this, she places her hand in his. Pulls back, though, the second electricity shoots up her arm. Goosebumps cover her arms, and she bites her lip. It's embarrassing,her reaction. So she quickly covers it up.

"Do you always do that? Do you always poise as the gentleman every time you meet a new girl?" She asks, a bit too hotly for her liking. But, whatever. She's saving her butt.

The boy's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he frowns a bit. "No," he murmurs, confusion laced in his voice. "I was just..." He shakes his head and clears his throat. It amuses her. "So, um, who are you waiting for?"

"My mom," the brunette female says. She looks down at the ground and slightly straightens her dress. "You?"

"I'm waiting for my friend," he tells her.

"Your friend drives?" Savannah asks. He looks young, like her age. No more than sixteen. But he is probably one of those lucky guys that looks like he never ages.

"Yeah. I'm not old enough to drive yet, so..." He shrugs and she nods. "He's a junior. Goes to Beacon Hills High with me."

Surprise is written all over her features. She doesn't bother hiding it. "You go to Beacon, too?" Never before has she seen him. And then she studies him closer and realization dawns on her. "Oh."

"Oh what?" He asks her.

"You're... him." She doesn't bother hiding the distaste in her tone.

"Him?" He repeats, still confused.

"Liam Dunbar," she says. She knows all about him. Read about him in the newspaper and saw him countless times at school, both in the field and in classes. He is that stupid guy with anger problems. The one that beat the gasoline out of the Prep High Lacrosse Coach's car. The guy that almost replaced Scott McCall as Team Captain. And the guy that was befriended by teenaged assassins. Yeah, she knows him and is now itching to get away. As far as she is concerned, he is trouble and danger on two legs.

"Wait, aren't you that girl Sam is dating?" Liam questions. That question makes her wince.

"Was," she mutters. Before he can say anything, she says, "I don't want to talk about it." And she doesn't. Sam is a really part of her life. Her first boyfriend and first love. But now he isn't, and that makes her gloomy and moody.

Liam nods and stays quiet. A few seconds trickle by, and she glances at her phone. Where the freaking Hell is her mom? Her mom should have picked her up by now. Savannah should be in her room, listening to music and texting her friends or practicing. And just when she is afraid that she will have to socialize a bit more, her mother appears. She can't help but sigh in relief. Quickly, she murmurs a 'bye' and leaves. It isn't until she Is at her house and In her room that she realuzes that she had been a bit rude. But, whatever.

The next day she sees him and cringes. Without thinking about it, she is even ruder. And if someone had told her that she and this boy she is rude to would become closer, she would have laughed.