Thanks for the reviews, they made me decide to continue. And, in response to Exintaris' review-you find out what is wrong with Monica during the fic. I'm sorry, I should have made this clearer. Rachel and Monica are friends but not as good friends as they are made out to be in the series. I hope this clears things up a bit. Please keep reading and reviewing! Lilian xXx
Monica wasn't sure what was happening. When she went down to breakfast that day, everyone was nice to her, in an awkward way. As if she was dying, and they were trying to make her last days special. For a minute she panicked, wondering if they knew something that she didn't, but then consoled herself with the fact that she hadn't been to the doctors, or a hospital, in years. How would anyone know what was wrong with her? Her problems were psychological, not physical.
Even Ross was going out of his way to be kind to his sister, offering to get her some cereal. Shaking with shock, she nodded her head slightly, as he poured out the cornflakes and set them down in front of her, passing her some sugar too.
"What's going on?" she asked finally, a spoonful of soggy cereal in her mouth.
"Monica, don't speak with your mouth full," Judy said, but even that didn't seem angry, more a statement or a piece of advice.
She swallowed before repeating her question. "Why's everyone being so nice to me as well? What have I done?"
"Sweetie, we're always "nice" to you," Judy said, smiling at her daughter, but she frowned at Jack, and muttered "Tell her."
"Tell me what?" Monica looked to her father. "Dad! Tell me what?"
Jack looked helpless, but Judy nodded at him and he coughed before smiling sweetly at his daughter. "Honey... we're a little worried about you. You seem so sad lately, so angry all the time, and so quiet. Not our little Harmonica that we know and love."
Monica cringed. Little Harmonica. It reminded her of when she had been a little girl, so happy, so friendly. Those days were gone now.
"So, we think it might help if you go and talk to someone else about your problems. Someone who you don't know as well as us. It often helps to discuss things with someone else."
Monica looked up sharply. "What kind of someone else?" she asked suspiciously.
Jack looked at Judy, and she turned a sad, worried face to Monica. "A psychologist, honey."
---------
"Who are you phoning?"
Rachel looked up quickly to see her mother, who had appeared in the hallway. She didn't look pleased. "You've just been on the phone to Tom for over an hour. Would YOU like to pay the bills?"
"Mom," Rachel pleaded. "I just need to give Monica a quick ring. Please!"
Mrs Green didn't look very happy, but shrugged and left her daughter to ring her friend. Rachel frowned as she tried to remember Monica's number, and decided to look it up in the phone book.
When she had finally found the number and dialled it, it rang for ages, before a young man answered the phone. "Hello?" he said weakly.
"Ross? It's Rachel... Rachel Green. Is Monica there?"
There was a pause, before Ross said "Monica's... busy right now."
"Please Ross! It's urgent! You have to let me talk to her!" Rachel felt like crying. The one time she really needed someone to talk to, someone to cry to, no-one seemed to be there.
"I'm sorry Rachel," Ross said. "She's kinda distressed herself. I don't think she'll be much help." He rang off, and Rachel stared at the phone, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She replaced the receiver, only for it to ring straight away. Thinking it might be Monica, she answered and said "Hey!"
"Rachel... if you need to talk about anything, I'm here, ok?" she heard Ross say. "I know we don't know each other very well, but, well, I'm a good listener."
Rachel was quite taken aback. She stammered a thank you, and replaced the phone, staring at the wall opposite her in shock. Had Ross just offered to be of some help? Was Ross being... nice to her?
Tears started to fall. She really needed someone right now. Being a teenager had its downsides. Everyone expected so much of her-being head cheerleader, being one of the prettiest girls in school. Some people expected too much.
------
There was a knock on his door, but he ignored it, preferring to stare out of his bedroom window. Sleeping hadn't helped the situation. If he ignored it, maybe it would go away.
"Chandler? Can I come in?" asked his father. Chandler turned towards the door in shock. He didn't want to be near his dad. He didn't feel comfortable around him. He knew it was wrong but... he just couldn't face him at that moment.
"No," he replied curtly. "Go away."
"I won't go away Chandler," was the response. "We need to talk. I need to put things right with you."
"No you don't," Chandler said, jumping off the bed and pulling on a sweatshirt. He opened his bedroom door and glared at Charles. "Just go back to your gay friends, have gay sex, and leave mom and I to get on with our lives. I'm going out!" he said angrily, pushing past his dad and running down the stairs. He flew past his mother who was walking up them, and ignored the tears in her eyes. He didn't want to be sympathetic. All he cared about at that point was how he felt, not anyone else who was going through hell themselves.
He slammed the front door as he went out and jogged down the steps. Looking back at the house quickly, he saw his mom staring out of her bedroom window. He turned back round and walked down the front path and into the main street. He needed to get away, think on his own, without being cooped up in his room.
The park. A perfect place. Checking there was no traffic around, he sprinted across the road and towards the green fields that lay out in front of him. Here, he could forget anything.
-----
The house seemed deathly quiet to Ross. He had suspected that Monica would run off again. And he let her go. He always did. He never comforted her, never told her everything was going to be alright. She was so lucky, he thought. She had it a lot easier than he did.
No one bullied her. If they did, he would know about it. Their parents didn't "expect" her to do well at school, get A grades in everything, and they didn't look at her sadly when she didn't get the top marks. Maybe they expected her to do well, because of Ross, but they didn't really mind if she didn't succeed. They let her do her own thing, praised her when it was needed, but didn't make her believe she had to get top marks to win their love and affection.
With him, it was different. If for whatever reason he did badly at school, they would be so disappointed in him, his mom would ask what had happened, and his dad would shake his head sadly in disbelief. He felt under pressure to do excellently in school from his parents so much, it was driving him insane.
And then it got worse. AT school he was laughed at, ridiculed, for being a "smart-ass." People thought bullying didn't happen when you got to his age. But it did. And it hurt even more when you knew it wasn't stupid school-kid bullying. These guys had it in for him bad. They hated the fact that all the teachers loved him, and he could get out of anything. If he stupidly forgot his homework one day, the teacher would smile and say something like "Don't worry Ross." But if anyone else forgot their homework... boy, would they get in trouble. Maybe this wasn't fair, but Ross never asked for unfair treatment, yet everyone blamed him. He got yelled at. He got his science awards, projects and books stolen. He got pushed from corners of rooms where it was difficult to tell who did it. And even in his eighteenth year, the word "geek" was still around. And it still hurt.
He only had one real friend. Chandler. But even he, recently, had been pre-occupied. He didn't want to listen to Ross' tales of woe. He had his own problems. And Ross respected that, but now it was worse. When Chandler wasn't around to stick up for him, because he was in the library, or absent, as he often was, the bullying intensified. And Ross let it get to him. Words hurt, sometimes more than physical abuse, and sometimes Ross really believed that his cleverness was dragging him down, losing him friends, and ruining his life. Sometimes Ross really believed that he truly was a "geek."
-----
She couldn't believe it. A psychologist? At first, she had mistaken it for a psychiatrist and had been appalled. Did they think she was mental?
But then they explained. A psychologist was a totally different thing. He or she was there to just listen, to help, to try to understand, and to make them feel better. There was nothing to be ashamed about. Many people went to psychologists just because they needed to talk to someone who might actually be able to help.
"But I don't want to go!" she whined. "I'm fine! Honest! I don't need any psychological help!"
Jack looked at his daughter sadly. "Honey, you're different now. You're never happy. You need to talk with someone. It's for the best."
Monica was stunned. Part of her was impressed and happy that her parents did care about her-they'd noticed she was unhappy. But part of her was annoyed. How dare they take her life into their own hands? It was none of their business. Let her worry about herself.
She'd left after breakfast to go to her favourite spot-the park. The swings in particular. She seemed to go there every day now. She could swing back and forth, and forget her problems, and concentrate on swinging gently in the breeze.
When she reached the swings the area was empty. Often it was full of children with their parents. She'd smile and nod to everyone, and sometimes even play with the children, who she had grown accoustomed to. The parents loved it when Monica was around-their children loved her too. But they never learnt her name, and always wondered if she was okay. Everyone knew her as the quiet, mysterious girl with long dark hair and a smile that, when it appeared, shone like the sun.
She sat on the now-empty swings, pushing her hair back behind the swing so it didn't get caught in the chain. The swing next to hers creaked slightly in the breeze, and she swung a little, feeling the weak sun shine on her. Sun in November was rare, and Monica loved the coolness when there was also a brightness shining in the sky. Heat did not agree with Monica, but she hated the rain too. She looked up into the sky, frowning at the dark clouds above her that threatened to spoil her day even more. When one thing happened, something ten times worse often happened soon after. It never rains, but it pours. But sometimes the day would brighten again, before night fell.
As she sat swinging, she felt a shadow over her, but she barely noticed until she heard a voice speak. She jumped, and turned, to see the face of who she presumed was a young man, smiling weakly at her.
"This swing taken?"
Chipping around, kick my brains round the floor
These are the days, It never rains but it pours
-------
Woo, second chapter done. I brought Rachel into it! Go me! I haven't decided if Phoebe and Joey will make an appearance-I very much doubt it, but we'll see. Please read and review. Lilian xXx.