Guess what, it's this story's birthday! It is officially one year old! Yay! Unfortunately, I don't have more chapters. I could blame that on college, classes, summer, breaks, family, monkey's uncles, commercials, tv shows, yada yada. I won't, though. Sorry, but I'm sure you'll forgive me for that. For now, enjoy this next chapter.
Disclaimer: Don't own this. Never owned this. I just own the idea. Don't steal it, don't be mean.
Persona non grata-Jade's POV- Lane's Office after school
"So, let me get this straight. You chased Sikowitz out of the school's gates and down two blocks, and then drug him back?" Beck snickered into the palm of his hand, trying to hide his laughter from Lane. After asking Tori to go to the movies with me, Lane had managed to pull me into his office, and I had swiftly grabbed Beck's arm and forced him to follow me. He had groaned when he sat down on the far side of the couch while I sat opposite of Lane's bamboo swing chair. My therapist was currently swaying side to side in said chair, and trying to give me his best disgruntled look.
"Yes, but if you had seen what he-" Lane stopped my explanation with a raised finger. He pinched the tips of his ears in what I could only assume was his way of easing some stress. He rubbed his forehead and leaned back in his chair, using the balls of his feet to rock it back and forth.
"Jade, the janitor found him, strapped to the ceiling with duct tape, and he was hog-tied! Do you know how much trouble you could get into if the janitor wasn't terrified that you would do the same to him?" He sighed and looked at me with pleading brown eyes. His concern was warranted, but unnecessary for someone of my stature. Zane had thankfully left good standing when he left the school system, and the West family name was prominent in the Los Angeles city life. Brian and I could live off the land if we wanted to, we just decided that life would be easier if we stayed with the abuse and took each beating in strides.
"I'm sure that Sikowitz understands now that I am not a student that he can simply mess with. I have not terrorized the janitor anytime lately. I haven't even cut up another of his trash cans since last semester, Lane. Can't you give me the benefit of the doubt? In fact, since you're my "therapist" aren't you supposed to give me that in the first place?" I scratched my chin and raised an eyebrow. He crossed his arms in response and I could see him stick his tongue in his cheek.
"How did you even manage to drag a two hundred and fifty pound man back two whole blocks, then duct tape him to the ceiling? That is unfathomable to me, you can't expect me to believe you didn't have help?" I smirked, he knew me all too well. In all truthfulness, I used to be Zane's partner in crime. Yes, I did just say that he left our name in the storybooks well, but he was a sneaky bastard in that he was the King of Trickery around the halls. Sikowitz should have known not to mess with the West family.
"Okay, Zane's been in town for the past couple of weeks. He may or may not have swung by to help torture an old teacher of his. We didn't permanently damage the old man, just decided to teach him a lesson that he seemingly forgets time after time. He's fine, correct?" I leaned back into the cushions, giving him my classic confident look. He cleared his throat and propped his elbows on his knees.
"Yes, but you should not be venting your anger in this fashion. I understand that you are taking your medication again? I also understand that this medication prevents you from properly showing any kind of emotions. Now, what I want you to do is to vent them in a more creative way that is less detrimental to others' health and safety." I waited for him to continue, and he did after he stood up from his spot. He picked up something on his desk, and I patiently tapped my fingers on my leg. "I bought this for you in hopes that I wouldn't need to give it to you and you would sort it out on your own. But, I see that I am running out of options. Keep this, and write in it. I want you to bring it to me at the end of each week. You can pick it up each Monday morning."
"What are you talking abo-" I started before he dropped a composition journal in my lap. The thin cover was smooth under my fingertips as I looked at the spotted design. I couldn't really see myself writing on the pure white surface crossed only by light blue lines. Disrupting the perfect blank sheets would be like marring my own façade with my disease. Gritting my teeth, I looked up at the man with a look of irritation and confusion. "How is destroying this new object supposed to help me get through this?"
"By writing out what happens, the events of the days, this may help consolidate a better form of treatment for you other than this drug that makes you feel empty and numb. Watching your life unfold beneath your fingertips, it might give you a better sense of control, and you may be able to regain that calm and cool exterior you have exhibited in the past." Seeing my skeptical expression, he twisted the pen in his hands. "Look, I know you aren't going to like it at first, but seeing as you toy with the fantasy of being a director someday. You've created your own scripts, even had a play acted out on a stage. I believe this will also help further your skills in that department. Allowing your life to freely live throughout this journal, you may reach that serendipity that you so crave."
"But you'll be reading this?" I asked, weary that he would be reading my deepest, darkest secrets like yesterday's newspaper. I bit down on my tongue holding back a smart ass retort that would only prove to get me into trouble.
"Only to determine what kind of treatment would better suit your needs. This journal will not be seen by anybody else, including you, Oliver." He glared at my pseudo-ex who promptly shrugged and gave an innocent smile.
"I'm simply here for moral support…And I was dragged in by my elbow. This is of no choice of mine, sir." He held up his hands in surrender and promptly got up to walk to the door. "Is this all you wanted to talk about today, Lane?"
"I guess that was all, but do you understand what I am asking you to do, Jade?" Lane pointed the cap of the pen in my direction. I picked up the journal and stood to look him in the eye.
"I understand completely, Lane. I guess you'll want this next week, seeing as I have yet to actually entertain this idea?" All I got was an eye roll and an affirmative nod in reply. Taking the journal with me, I left the room with Beck in tow.
"Jade, you were late picking me up. Zane had to drop by the school; do you know how embarrassing that is?" Brian growled at me from his spot at the kitchen table. He was currently working on some homework, whatever subject it was, I wanted nothing to do with it. I smirked at him, knowing exactly why he was upset. Zane had a particular car that did not exactly scream the "West" family name proudly. His taste in vehicles is a little eccentric to say the least.
"What do you have against my Rabbit, Brian? She has worked like a charm for the past twenty years, and she is adorable!" Zane clapped him on the shoulders and gave him a rough squeeze. Brian slapped his hands away and tried to concentrate on his homework. "Her neon green paint scheme, my hand painted racing stripes, the intricate swirl patterns on her two doors. You can't help but feel the charm ooze off of her. Not my fault you guys didn't grow up with a passion for the classic cars."
"She's not a classic, she's an old bucket of bolts that has yet to fall apart." Brian snorted and shook his head before scribbling some more notes down. Zane feigned hurt, placing a hand over his heart in an attempt to really make himself appear more obnoxious than normal.
"That stung, little brother. Must you think so little of my beauty? She has been faithful to me for the past six years that I have driven her. I love her with all my heart, and I understand if you prefer Jade's pretty little Camaro over my put together Rabbit. Let me tell you though, she will save your life in a heartbeat. I don't know how Jade's car would fare in that event." He sneered at me and I shrugged.
"Dad gave her to me because he felt bad for giving me a black eye. I'll take what I can get, Z." Sweeping my hand through my hair and pushing it back, I sipped at the black coffee in my other hand. The bitter liquid calmed my nerves as I thought of ways to keep Dad from finding out that I was going behind his back. "Zane, you doing anything this weekend?"
"Uh, probably going to the county fair. I hear they have fresh fruit this time around. You want to come with me?" He raised an eyebrow and scratched the scruff on his chin. He was letting it grow out, mainly into a goatee due to my insistence that it would catch ladies' eyes.
"Yeah, I need a cover for a date with someone that Dad probably wouldn't approve of." I twiddled my thumbs after setting my cup on the kitchen counter. He gave me a knowing look and patted me on the shoulder.
"Ah, sure. You and your sweetheart can tag along, and I'll make up some sob story about how I wanted to hang out with you more, and you didn't want to do it alone so you are dragging along a good friend of yours. Sound good enough?" I nodded sheepishly, figuring he didn't need any more explanation than that.
"Sounds good to me, when are you two planning on heading out tomorrow?" Dad walked in with a smile on his face. He turned to look at both of us, quirking an eyebrow. "Come on, tell your old man. I'd like to go with you. I've missed the fair for too many years. It would be a nice reprieve from the business life."
"Uh, we'll leave at nine, Dad. Jade, you should go talk to your pal and see if they're okay with that." Zane nervously glanced between us in an attempt to seem nonchalant. He failed miserably of course, but I walked out all the same. Pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes, I cursed my luck before grabbing my phone out of my back pocket and send Tori a quick text.
"Well, I've gotten stuck in the wrong cabbage patch…"
Well, chapter 17, that's it. Yeah, it's filler, but it's somewhat important filler. Key term: somewhat. You'll just have to wait and see what happens next, hm? Don't hate the writer, hate the book! Wait, that didn't come out right…