I was inspired for this by my other story, and now I'm obsessed with this one too! :3
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or it's follow-up series, they belong to Rick Riordan and I make no profit off this fan-work.
…Chapter One - The Appointment…
"I don't need it!" Percy shouted across the room.
"Then go and prove that you don't" Paul said, following him as the 17 year old paced his classroom.
"Yeah, like that'll work." Percy looked at his step-father to see a cautious expression on his face. "What's that look for? I'm not crazy."
"No one's saying you're crazy Percy, it's just counselling."
"With a psychiatrist." Percy shot back.
"The school just thinks that you need someone to talk to, work through any issues-"
"I don't have issues!" Paul frowned, Percy took a few deep breaths and lowered his voice. "I don't have issues."
"Then tell the psychiatrist that." Percy chewed his lip. He didn't want to tell the psychiatrist anything.
This entire conversation had stemmed from a letter home, requesting that Percy see the school counseller due to 'recurring anger management issues'. Long story short; Percy punched some guy in the face for being a jerk and his entire school record was suddenly put under the microscope. This new school counseller. Mr Richards. Had been over every student file and apparently Percy was already on a list of students 'to keep an eye on'. Now he had to go for a counselling session with the guy. Today. He chose to just ignore it and say he'd forgotten but Paul had caught up with him 10 minutes ago and reminded him. He could no longer feign ignorance, so here he was, blatantly refusing to go.
"I don't need to tell him anything, because I don't need to go. Someone to talk to? What a total load of horsesh-"
"Percy!" Paul cut him off. The demigod bit his tongue against any more remarks. "you never know, with all the stuff that's gone on in your life, it might help." Percy shot him a look that was positively murderous before walking out and slamming the door behind him. The man sighed, dropping down into an empty chair.
Meanwhile, Percy stormed down the corridor. He did not need counselling. He spared an angry glance at a clock to see that he had to go and see him in only 20 minutes. He huffed and made his way to the guy's office, slumping down onto a chair in the waiting room. It was called a waiting room, but it wasn't much of one, just a dead end of corridor that had been cut off from the rest of the corridor by a door.
He fidgeted in the chair, tapping his fingers on the tatty wood of the arm rest. He was the only one there -as if he needed another reason to feel a bit like a reject- the constant ticking of the large clock on the wall was working up to annoyance, he looked at it and sighed angrily, still ten minutes to go. He certainly wasn't going in early.
It felt a bit like a dentist's office, but without the aggravating tapping of the receptionist on her keyboard or any noisy children. Just the annoying tick-tick of the clock. For a moment he considered hurling it out the window like a frisbe.
He sunk back into his own thoughts. Why was he here? He did not have anger management issues, hemanagedhis anger just fine, he managed it right into that kid's face. Lots of kids got into a fights much worse than just one punch. Was a good one though. Percy smirked a little. The lad was purposely trying to annoy him, he deserved it, he shouldn't have picked a fight he couldn't finish.
So he'd been a little stressed lately. He and Annabeth had broken up a few months ago. Right at the start of summer actually, she did a damn fine job of avoiding him all through camp. He only been back at school for a month and half. And he felt like his dyslexia was getting worse, he was on report for most of his classes. Paul was trying, he really was, he even printed off some of the study material in Greek, it wasn't quite ancient Greek, but it was a little better, even enrolled him in a class to learn modern Greek, needless to say he was excelling in it. It opened up a few academic choices for him.
Out of it all, the headaches were the worst thing to put up with, intense throbbing in his skull that no amount of painkillers would alleviate. He didn't leave the house without his sunglasses, the sunlight hurt his eyes, made the headaches worse. He kept the shades in his bedroom drawn constantly. Just laid on his bed most days, sleeping the time away.
But regardless, he was coping. He had ways of coping. Why did some trumped up psychiatrist think he could stick his nose in his life. It was quite frankly, none of his business.
A glance at the clock revealed that it was a minute past the hour. He mentally cussed and pushed himself out of the chair, sighing before he knocked the door.
…End of Chapter One…
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