Up until I heard my name being called out, I was more than content sitting on the plush emerald green seat, quietly looking up at the ticking clock. Watching the two hands as they came and left, going clockwise as they should, and as the seconds turned into minutes and the minutes would have soon turned into hours.

Had I have been lucky.

Though seeing as though I am me, I am not lucky at all. This is not hard to tell once you know my life and know that Mrs. Howard was right on time today. As she always is. For every single session. With everyone. So it wasn't a surprise, I will admit as much. And the only reason I was left waiting in the first place was because I came in early today. Due to the fact that I didn't, sorry don't have anything else better to do than to wait for her to come in.

While watching the clock. Only looking away from the mentioned, as it continued to tick even as I averted my eyes from it when I heard the door open right at 7:30, on the dot, and my 'name'.

"So Samuel-" she began, causing me to cringe at the name that wasn't mine, as she took a seat right across from me on the other side of her wooden desk. Which she once said, when I asked at one of our earlier meetings, was there because it, alongside the wooden interior, added a homey sort of feeling to the room. Which was important to her since she wanted her students, or really patients, though she refuses to call them that, to feel more comfortable in her room and presence.

Since it's common knowledge, or really she says that it is, but I'm sure she actually just learned it in school, that people, like me, are less likely to share their feelings and talk about their problems with her if they feel uncomfortable.

However, if they're in a 'safe and comfortable' environment like this one that she tried so desperately to set up, then the discomfort would be gone and these sessions would go by like a breeze.

Though sadly, even a room made of wood that had wooden furniture, a faint lavender scent, and as much potted plants as she could possibly fit in without making it crowded, couldn't make me feel comfortable upon hearing her call me by that name.

A name I refuse to go by, though she doesn't seem to get it. Despite the fact that I have told her multiple times and on multiple occasions that I prefer to be called 'Sam' over 'Samuel'.

"Sam. Please" I correct her, once again. Though I don't know why I even try. Since just like everyone else, it doesn't seem to stick with her.

"Right, of course. So, Sam." She says, and I sigh. Mentally giving her five minutes before she forgets and starts calling me Samuel again.

Though it's not like she's so old that she'll forget it. Because she's not. She's just in her early to mid-forties. It's not hard to tell.

"How are your classes going?" She asks, pulling me out of my thoughts, and I know she's only asking that because of routine questioning.

"Not to be rude or anything, but you know exactly how my classes are going. It's the reason the principal so much insisted that we have this meeting" I explain, bluntly, since she doesn't really care. No one really cares about me. Well, besides Barry. And maybe Mrs. Smith. Yeah, Mrs. Smith too. It's safe to say that because she was always like a mother to me since Barry and I practically grew up together.

"Yes, right." She nods and picks up a piece of paper from on her desk, "Here it says there was a quarrel between you and another student in Mr. Mar-"

"Don't say his name" I exclaim, quickly stopping her before she continues. Sighing in relief because that was a close call.

"Sorry?" She asks, upon hearing me stop her. Obviously confused.

Though of course, she is. Maybe if she actually did her job right, then she'd know that I can't stand even hearing his name.

"Speak of the devil and he may appear." I shrug, simply, "He's like Voldemort. His name is a taboo."

Which gets a laugh out of the older lady. Obviously, it did. Harry Potter is a timeless classic.

I smile back at her. Though it's only a small smile.

"Well, besides he who must not be named." She jokes, "Who was the one giving you problems in the first place?"

'Thanks for reminding me.' I think, sarcastically, since I am no longer happy now. Which my face easily shows.

"Kyle" I respond and she sighs, "of course it was."

I roll my eyes at that reaction, not needing her to judge me like this. I deal with it enough with Barry as is.

"You have to stop letting what he says bother you so much" she tries and I scoff.

"Him and the rest of the world!" I exclaim, "I'm gay and I'm apparently not allowed to be gay in this fucking day and age"

"Sam, language" she warns and I roll my eyes one more time, "I'm not twelve."

"You're right." She says, fixing her glasses as she takes a deep breath in. Before looking at me once again and sighing. Clearly impatient.

"I know you're not twelve. You're seventeen years old with less than a month to your next birthday. Which means soon enough you'll be eighteen and this cannot continue!" She explains and I shrug, "I'll be fine".

Which is what she shakes her head at, "Not in jail, you won't."

"You're starting to sound just like Barry" I sigh.

"That's because Barry IS right, Sam!" She exclaims, then remembers she was supposed to be the one who remained level-headed in this meeting. It was her job anyway. Opening my mouth to respond I am cut off by the ringing sound of the school psychologist's phone, indicating that the alarm had gone off and our early ten minute morning session is over.

Standing up and picking up my backpack from the floor right next to me I turn to say "goodbye" to Mrs. Howard. Since I was taught to have human decency, unlike most other people out there.

And I'm not even saying that to be rude. It's one hundred percent genuine. Unlike the next guy.

Though she does say it right back to me, showing that she had grown up the same, as I start towards the door. Opening it a bit and starting to leave until I hear her say "but if you don't learn to keep to yourself then jail is exactly where you'll end up." right before the door shut behind me.