Review Section

MistyRiver17: I'm sorry that this is the last one. But, hey, I can only do so much with them.

Whisperedrainbow: I'm glad it was all you hoped for. And yay for me and having originality.

Sammy17: While I agree that my stories are good, I can't say they're the best. I've been reading It Took Us Forever To Get Here, and I must say that I am deeply enthralled with that one. The author's name escapes me at the moment, but that story's really amazing. But, thank you for pointing out that my characters have stayed correct. That means a lot.

S.O.N luva: Here's an update, so that you can read on.

Author's Notes

Enter the therapist. Yes, I have to be honest, I based her off of some one that was very important to me while I was going through some tough times.

This chapter is dedicated to my old theater teacher. Thank you. For everything.

Disclaimer: I own Dr. Courtney Thomas. I do not own any other characters. They belong to Tom Lynch, the creator of South Of Nowhere.

We're Finally Here

Chapter 2

By Persephone's Nautical Nun

I had somehow managed to convince Mom to let Ashley take me to therapy. Actually, I think the only reason she allowed me to go with her was because she was hoping I'd be fixed after the first session. I could already promise her that that wasn't going to happen. I would keep going for as long as I possibly could, because that meant being with Ashley.

So, here Ashley and I sit, hand in hand, in the overly bright waiting room. It was like they were trying to lighten the mood, because beyond that heavy door, sat your worst fears, waiting to be confronted.

The bored nurse behind the counter called my name without looking up from her magazine, and pointed to the heavy door with her pen. I turned to Ashley, who gave me an encouraging smile and nodded toward the door. With a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The room was the first thing I noticed. It wasn't at all like I imagined. Yeah, sure, there were bookshelves with lots of books, and picture frames filled with various degrees on the walls, but there were other things, too

On one wall, there was an interesting collage of Elvis Presley posters. But, the most out of place object had to be the Spongebob Squarepants poster behind the desk.

"Yeah, Spongbob doesn't really fit, does he? It was my daughter's doing."

My eyes snapped to the woman in front of me. She seemed young for a therapist. She had short brown hair, and wide, brown eyes. I liked her eyes best. They were unassuming.

She stood up and walked around her desk, offering her hand to me. "Hi, I'm Courtney Thomas." I shook her hand, and was pleased to find that she had a real handshake. Too many women nowadays don't have real handshakes. They just let their hand sit there, limply. I always hate those people. She gestured to the couch across from her desk and said, "Please, have a seat."

I sat down on the far end of the couch, my hands in my lap. Instead of sitting behind her desk like I thought she'd do, Dr. Thomas sat on the opposite end of the couch, drawing her legs up under her and resting her elbow on the back of the couch, facing me.

"So... Spencer Carlin. You seem normal enough. Why are you here?" she asked.

I already kind of liked this lady, but I didn't want to settle into anything comfortable with her, yet. "You know my name, surely you know why I'm here."

She sat thinking for a minute. I still hadn't looked her in the eye, but she wasn't pushing it. "Well, I know what your mother says. But, I'm not asking your mother, am I? I'm asking you."

This made me look at her. She has the faintest of smiles on her face. Suddenly a question that had nothing to do with the subject at hand popped into my mind. I almost didn't ask it, but then I decided that there wasn't a reason not to ask. "How old is your daughter?"

"She's nine," she answered simply. We sat there in silence for a few minutes before it registered with me that I hadn't yet answered her question.

But, instead of answering, another question popped into my head. "What did my mom say?"

She studied my face for a minute, trying to decide if she should tell me the truth or not, I'm sure. I guess she decided the truth was the best answer. "She told me that you were very sick. She said that you were letting your friends alter your personality. She said that the virtues she spent the past sixteen years instilling upon you have gone down the drain."

I kind of chuckled at this. I don't know why, but I did. "That's dramatic."

"Yes, well I thought so, too." She paused for a minute. "What do you think about all that?"

"I think the part to pay attention to in all of that rambling is the part where she said 'virtues that she's instilled upon me'. And then I think that my virtues haven't gone anywhere. I don't lie, cheat, steal. I'm a good person. What virtues are she talking about, then?"

She looked kind of impressed with me, then. "I think you pay attention to the right things, Spencer." Silence again. "Tell me about Ashley. Surely she's not the hooligan your mother claims she is."

"Mom doesn't even know her. She made her decision as soon as Glen came home with the rumor that she was gay."

"That didn't turn out to be a rumor, did it?"

"No," was all I could say.

"Well, Spencer," she said, checking her watch. "We are done for today. See you next week?"

I stood up and walked to the door, stopping before opening it. "Yes." I answered, before opening the door and stepping back into the falsly lit waiting room.