Thanks for all the great reviews.  I hope I don't let you down with the chapter.  It took a while to get it together.  As usual, Josh and cohorts, I own nothing.  I bow down to your genius and am borrowing it over the summer….

            Dr. Acobas's office had not changed in the three, four months that Ryan had stopped coming.  He glanced around the room, taking in the artwork, wondering how he would explain this to Sandy, because eventually the Cohens would be billed for the session.  He wasn't even sure why he thought the doctor could help him...  But he knew shrinks were bound by confidentiality and that anything Ryan said had to stay in the office.  That was what he was counting on. 

            The more Ryan talked to Seth, the more he realized his brother needed help. Once when he was younger and Dawn had been particularly strung out, he had taken her to a rehab clinic, but that was only after she had reached rock bottom and she had nowhere else to go.  Dawn had stuck it out for a month, staying sober, until the next boyfriend came along with his own bad habits, which just rubbed off on Dawn again. Seth hadn't reached rock bottom, but Ryan was hoping to help him before that happened.

            The door opened and Dr. Acobas walked in.  He was about Sandy's age, with salt and pepper hair and he wore a sweater vest over a button down oxford shirt.  Despite his geeky appearance, Ryan knew this man could help him.

            "Hi, Ryan."

            Ryan started to stand as the doctor walked in, but Dr. Acobas waved at him to sit down.

            "Hey," Ryan said quietly.

            "Your dad called earlier this morning.  He said that he and Kirsten thought you should resume your sessions, but that you were resisting.  I think he wanted to know how far he should push you."

            Ryan shrugged.  He hadn't planned on talking about himself.  "Um, that's not why I came."

            Dr. Acobas lifted his brows.  "Oh?"

            "Anything I say in here, it's confidential.  Right?"

            "Yes."

            "Even if I'm talking about someone else."

            "We went over this last year.  Unless you're a danger to yourself or to someone else, everything you say will stay in here."

            Ryan swallowed.  "Good."  He looked down at his hands.  They were shaking.

            "Do your parents know you're here, Ryan?  Sandy seemed pretty certain that you would refuse to come."  Dr. Acobas leaned forward, resting his elbows on the top of his thighs.

            Ryan looked away from the doctor.  He decided not to answer the doctor's question.  It wouldn't lead to anything good.  "If someone you cared about was doing drugs, what would you do for him?"

            "Are you doing drugs, Ryan?"

            Ryan's eyes jerked up to look at the doctor.  "No."  He shook his head vehemently.  "No.  I wouldn't do that."

            Dr. Acobas nodded.  "You sound very adamant about that."

            "My mother died last year from a drug overdose."  Ryan shifted on the brown leather couch.  This was not how he imagined the session going.  "I wasn't talking about myself."

            "Okay," the therapist said.

Ryan heard the disbelief in Dr. Acobas's voice, but he decided to continue anyway.   "My — friend has started using drugs.  He won't admit it's a problem and I don't know how to get him to stop before the shit hits the fan."  The words started to flood out of him.

"Have you talked to your friend's parents?"

"They can't know."

"Why not?"

"They have too many other things going on?"

"And they don't realize that their," Dr. Acobas paused for a brief second, "child has started using drugs."

"Like I said, they have too much going on right now."

"You said your biological mother used drugs in the past."

Once again, Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  The office was cool, yet he felt the leather of the couch sticking to him and his shirt was too tight at the collar. 

"Yes.  She did."

"What did you do for her?"

"I couldn't do anything for her."

"You never tried to get her help?"

"She didn't want to help herself.  Every so often she'd try to quit, but then another boyfriend would come along…" Ryan let his voice trail off.

"Ryan, listen to what you're saying."

"I'm not letting —" he stopped, because he was a split second away from spilling Seth's name.  "I'm not letting my friend hit rock bottom."

"You might not have a choice."

"I won't do that again.  I won't watch someone I care about waste away with that crap."

"Can you take this person to a counselor?  If it's a school friend, perhaps someone in school could do something.  But Ryan, the best thing for you to do is to go to this person's family."

He wanted to cry out, I am family, but knew that would be giving too much away.

"Dr. Acobas," the secretary's voice came over the intercom.  "Your next patient has been waiting for ten minutes already."

"Thank you.  I'll be right there."

Ryan was already gathering his knapsack and swinging it over his shoulder.  His face drooped; he had been so sure Dr. Acobas could help him.  "Thanks for your help."  Ryan had his hand on the doorknob.

"Ryan, will you come back.  I feel like we only touched the surface."

He shrugged.

"We can delve into this further.  Think of solutions.  Figure out why this person started using in the first place."

Ryan realized the therapist still believed he was the one using.  "I don't know."

"Your parents want you to come."

"I know."  Ryan expelled a deep breath.  "I guess I could come back. Sandy probably won't get off my back until I do.  Just do me a favor, don't tell him I came today."

"I can't promise that.  There's a matter of billing."

"But he'll know I ditched school."

"Aha.  Well, he doesn't have to know when you came.  Just that you showed up, right."  The doctor winked.

If Ryan weren't so distressed out by his utter mistake in coming to the office, he would have laughed at the sweater-vest wearing doctor, winking at him, trying to act cool.  But he was too relieved to know that the doctor would just this once help keep his secret.  The last thing he needed was another lecture from either one of them, though if they found out there wasn't much more they could do than to continue to ground him.

"Make an appointment with the receptionist on your way out.  And schedule it for after school hours.  I won't keep lying to your parents.  We'll get to the bottom of it."

"I will.  Thank you."

Ryan left with a sinking feeling in his gut.  Twenty minutes later he parked Marissa's car at the edge of her old driveway and hiked up to his house.  He went around back and came through the pool, casting a longing look at the pool house he used to live in.  He thought he'd be coming into an empty kitchen, but Kirsten was leaning against the counter sipping a drink from a coffee mug.  She was clad in a chic pantsuit and her hair looked freshly cut with layers falling down her back.

"Hi," he said, slowly closing the backdoor.

A huge smile spread across Kirsten's face.  "Ryan.  You're home."  Her eyes searched the back door.  "Where's Seth?"

Ryan swallowed.  He glanced up at the clock and saw that Seth should have been home already.  He was five minutes late, which Kirsten had obviously not noticed.  "Um.  He had… litmag.  Yeah.  He had litmag."

"Okay," she said with a small chuckle.  "No soccer practice for you?"

"Oh.  No."  He hated lying to Kirsten.  "Practice was canceled.  The coach was out."

"Well, I guess that's good for me.  My father needs me in the office and have no one to leave the baby with."

"Oh," he said, finally putting down his books on a chair. "That's why you look so nice."

She laughed again.  "I guess you haven't seen me dressed too often since the baby was born."

He shook his head sheepishly.

"Well, the good news is I finally hired a nanny."

"Oh.  Really?  Does that mean you're going back to work?"

"Not right away, though I'm sure my dad will call me in every once in a while.  Once I'm comfortable with the new arrangement, I'll decide if I want to go back full time or part time."

Part time?  It had never occurred to Ryan that Kirsten would stay away from work as long as she had.  It definitely hadn't occurred to him that she wouldn't go back to work full-time. 

Kirsten put down her mug.  "I'll be home by dinner.  I can bring something home.  What do you want?"

"It's okay.  I can cook something."

"No.  I'll bring something home.  You'll have your hands full with the baby."

"Where is she?"  Ryan rummaged through the fridge, searching for something to eat.  He wasn't really hungry, but Kirsten would think it was strange if he didn't eat after school.  It was what he always did.

"In the nursery.  Taking a nap." 

            "Okay."  He took an orange out of the fridge and started to peel it.  Maybe she'd leave, before he actually had to eat it.  "When does she need to eat?"

            "She'll be hungry when she wakes up.  Her bottle is in the fridge.  Don't forget to warm it.  Diapers and wipes are in the nursery.  Okay," she said, picking herself up off the counter.  "I've got to get going.  My dad is waiting."

            "Is he still pissed at me?"

            "Yes."

            "Tell him I'm sorry."

            "Tell him yourself."

            "Oh.  Okay."

            "You can't avoid him forever."  She plucked her car keys from the counter and picked up her purse.  "What you did — it was wrong on many levels, but it probably cost him a lucrative business deal.  And you're still not willing to talk about it."

            "Sandy told me this morning that he wants me to see Dr. Acobas."

            "I know."

            "I told him I wouldn't do it, but if you both really want me to, I'll go back."

            "Good.  Maybe we can deal with this and everything else that's been going on around here."

            She leaned forward and kissed the top of his head.  "Have a good afternoon." She felt Ryan recoil slightly and tried not to look hurt, even though she knew he'd never totally be comfortable with spontaneous affection from any of the adults in her life.  She waved and walked through the doors.

            As soon as he was alone, Ryan threw the orange he was holding into the trash and picked up the phone.  He knew Sandy and Kirsten trusted him to abide by the rules of his punishment, but he needed to talk to Marissa.

            "How'd it go?" she asked.

            "Awful.  The guy now thinks I'm on drugs."

            "What?  Oh no, Ryan. That can't be.  Why?"

            "The old friend bit."

            "Oh."

            "Yeah.  So he didn't help."

            "No.  But I've been roped back into therapy again."

            "I'm sorry, Ryan."

            "Your car is parked out front."

            "I'll pick it up later.  Summer said she could drop me off at around seven."

            "Do you know where Seth is?"

            "No.  He's not home?"

            Ryan shook his head and then realized Marissa couldn't see him.  "No.  I told Kirsten he had litmag, and she bought it.  But I don't think he's been at a meeting since we started school this year."

            "Litmag doesn't even meet today.  He's probably out with Mitch or Summer."

            "But he's grounded.  And he didn't know that Kirsten had a meeting.  Why would risk getting in trouble when he only has a week left?"  But deep down, Ryan knew the answer to that.  It was the drugs.  Seth didn't care about consequences anymore.

            "Maybe because he knew you'd cover for him."

            "They can't know, Marissa."

            "Why not?"

            "It would kill them."

            "Sandy and Kirsten are really strong people."

            Ryan heard the baby crying.  "I've got to go. I'm babysitting."  He was glad, because he didn't want to pursue the conversation.  He hung up the phone and sprinted up the stairs to the nursery and picked up his sister.  As he soothed her cries, Ryan's mind kept jumping back to Seth. 

            "Mr. Cohen, it's Dr. Acobas."

            "Oh.  Hello," Sandy said, shoving aside a sheaf of legal papers that he really wasn't interested in studying.  "Is everything okay?  I haven't had time to talk to Ryan again."

            "I'm calling about Ryan.  He dropped by my office today."

            "He did?"  Sandy rubbed his thick brows.  "When?  He's home babysititng?"

            "That's not important.  I just thought you should know."

            "But this morning he was absolutely against going back."

            "I can't divulge what was discussed," the therapist explained.  "But he agreed to continue coming."

            "That's good," said Sandy.  He was confused, not sure what was going on.

            "Ryan knows that I'm talking to you."

            "He ditched school to go see you, didn't he?"

            "I have no knowledge of that," said the doctor.

            Sandy laughed.  If the school doesn't call, he thought, I'll leave it alone.  "Thank you, Dr. Acobas.  This is definitely out of left field, but I'm glad Ryan is turning to someone for help."

            "Yes.  I'm glad too."  The therapist paused briefly and then against his better judgment he blurted out, "I have no conclusive evidence, but according to—" and then he stopped.  "I'm sorry.  I was about to breech Ryan's trust and that would just work against us."

            Sandy's stomach clutched.  "Is Ryan okay?  Is he in danger?"

            "At this point, I'd say he's okay.  I have a patient waiting for me.  We'll set up some family sessions too.  I think it would help."

            Sandy hung up the phone and stared at the wall, not really focusing on any particular spot, until his secretary came in and told him that a client was waiting on the phone.

            Seth fell into the beanbag, a joint dangling from between his fingers.  It was his second one since he ad arrived at his friend's place, but his third one for the day.  Mitch was sitting on his bed, dividing his newest stash of marijuana and rolling them into joints.  Every few minutes he would pluck the joint from Seth's fingers and take a drag, before returning it to his friend.

            "He was a madman this morning," Seth continued.  He'd been ranting all afternoon about Ryan's morning tirade.  "He practically threw my alarm clock across the wall.  And the 'rents say nothing."

            "Do you really want your parents to interfere?" Mitch asked, briefly looking up from his task.

            Seth shrugged his shoulders.  "Nah. I guess not."

            "You know, Seth.  I've never met anyone who can get as high as you, and still stay so tense."

            Seth giggled.  "Do I sound tense to you?"

            Mitch raised his brows.  "Uh.  Yeah."

            "I was just bitching to bitch. It was a good story.  But if you don't want me to regale you with my wonderful wit, then there are a lot of fun things we could do."

            "Like what?"

            "Have a spray paint handy?"

            "No more correcting grammatically incorrect graffiti."

            "Nope.  I was thinking of correcting grammatically incorrect street signs."

            Mitch laughed, shaking his head.  "The paint is on the floor of my closet."

            Seth jumped up from his beanbag and yanked open the closet door.  He rummaged through the junk accumulated on the floor until he triumphantly pulled out two cans.

            "So when do we go?"

            "Don't you have to show your face at home first?"

            Seth looked at the clock.  "Probably a good idea, though I'm sure Ryan thought up of a reason why I had to stay in school."

            "You better be careful about depending on him too much.  If he's pissed at you, he'll tell your mom you have detention."

            Seth laughed.  "If he's pissed."  He inhaled deeply and sucked on the smoke from the joint.  He had been lightheaded for a while now, but now he was feeling a buzz in his head.  "You done with those joints yet?"

            "Almost."

            "Next time you'll have to teach me the art of rolling a joint."

            "Definitely, because next time you buy, I aint doing it for you."

            "Once I roll my own, I aint sharing," Seth said, sitting back down in the beanbag.  He hadn't realized how much he had smoked, because there was practically nothing left of his joint.

            "Friends always share."

            "My Kindergarten teacher failed me in sharing.  Never did master —"

            "Mitchell." Mr. Weider swung open the door without knocking into the room, calling his son. Seth froze with the joint halfway to his mouth, but Mitch barely glanced at his father as he continued to roll the marijuana with the paper.  Mr. Weider halted mid-step and surveyed the scene in front of him.  "Mitchell, can I please have a word with you in the other room."

            Mitch stood, but didn't seem perturbed by his father's request.  Seth could feel beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.  He swallowed hard a few times, trying to keep the bile down.  He took one last puff, hoping the marijuana would give him strength and then extinguished the joint, before tucking it in one of the many pockets of his backpack.  There wasn't much left, but he didn't want to waste any of it.

            "What were you thinking?"  Mr. Weider's voice rose over the din of the air conditioner.  "Is that why his brother tried to smash your face in, because you're giving him drugs?  Are you nuts?  Are you trying to intentionally jeopardize my business deal?"

            Seth inched closer to the door, so he could hear better, though if they continued at the current decibel level, he would have not problem following the conversation.

            "Hey, I didn't shove the marijuana down his throat.  He wanted to smoke."

            "I'm sure you helped him along.  This is why your mother didn't want you around, because you're always messing things up.  Well, if I lose this deal with Caleb Nichol, you're going right back to New York.  I don't give a damn if your mother wants you there or not.  I don't care if you lose your credits and don't graduate on time."

            "What am I supposed to do, take the kid to rehab?"

            "Just pray his family doesn't find out your role in his drug problem."

            "Whatever, dad."

            Seth quickly sat back down in his chair before Mitch came back into the room.