Out of all my experiences in counseling, this was the shortest. Technically, I only have one other experience to compare it to (three years ago), so it's not like there was any competition. I'm not even sure if counseling is the right word to use, though. I only refer to it as such because that's how my parents introduced it to me. But when I got the card, it said "Senior Therapist." That's when I started to see it more as therapy than counseling.

  Regardless of what it was, I lied about going to it earlier than I did.

◄◄◄

  It was part of the new plan with That Queer Idiot; a new storyline, new characters, and, most importantly, new content. Of course, that brought upon a few lies.

  I've just got back from track practice when I decided I wanted to make a video to kick off the channel. What happened was that a seventh grader—Mark, I think—believed that I looked at Chloe's ass and wanted to know if it was true or not. Obviously, I said it wasn't. Then he told me that Madison screen-recorded the videos I'd deleted to make way for my new channel. At this point, I was afraid she was really going to frame me for her suicide or sue me for possible psychological damage to others (even now, I'm not sure if that's a criminal offense).

  Then he told me that Madison told Delilah how I was jealous of how close they were. I had that conversation with Madison a few weeks before she confronted me about the video. And... yeah, I told her about my jealousy. It wasn't, like, intense jealousy. It was a weird mix of confusion and jealousy, I think. Whatever it was, Madison told me Delilah would tear my head off if she found out or if I told her myself. That didn't help; I freaked out. It's one thing for someone to threaten to tear my head off, but it's another for a Scorpio threatening to do so (or saying that another Scorpio would, in this case).

  So, after practice, I made my first video. I talked mainly about how I was "going to therapy" and how my "therapist" "knew about the videos along with my parents." Then I showed the camera my journal. It was a basic blue copybook, but I wrote in it daily after the Madison disaster. I talked about how I wrote about my thoughts, other things people did I deemed as weird, and it was true. I still have the journal today, actually.

  Then I needed to set the record straight that I was asexual. I was kinda reluctant to admitting my asexuality because it isn't generally accepted and viewed as "valid" by some of the LGBTQ+ community. Despite this, I needed to tell people I didn't experience sexual attraction. This was mainly done to end the rumor that I stared at Chloe's ass.

  Whether or not it worked is beyond me; I'm hoping it did.

►►►

  This time in counseling was different than the others for another reason, too. That was because both my parents would be present during the session. This wasn't bad; I could've cared less. I didn't mind them knowing about things they didn't know. I mean, just as long as none of those things were about the videos. Amanda promised to be there, as well, but she never showed up. So I was on my own. I mean, I have to admit one thing: It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. The whole place, first off, got a renovation and looked somewhat more inviting than three years ago. My new counselor/therapist was better at her job than my last one. Now, that might be hard to really judge, but if I was able to be more open with this one, you know that she's good.

  After arriving, my parents and I had to sign a bunch of legal stuff. I'm bringing this up because last time we didn't have to all of this; we just sat in the waiting room for 30 minutes as analyzed the room for anyone who seemed to be in a worse state than me. Basically, I didn't want to go to counseling because the whole thing was a misunderstanding. Now it was my job to execute that idea flawlessly and be out of here within 15 minutes.

  The counselor/therapist eventually called all of us into her room. The room was significantly much smaller than I remembered. Not that I was starting to become claustrophobic or anything; it was just something I wasn't prepared for. I didn't want to begin hyperventilating and then suddenly feel claustrophobic all of the sudden.

  The session began differently this time, though. The counselor/therapist, Rachelle, went over some policies and legal stuff and there was some more paper signing. Then there was some confidentiality policy that got me intrigued but I honestly don't remember what it entailed at all. Then Rachelle asked me if I wanted my parents to stay or leave during the session. I think the confidentiality policy applied to something about this.

  "Just know," she said, "if you admit anything like doing drugs or alcohol, I will have to tell your parents that as it is within the policy that we can do that." So, there was a protocol. This is when I realized that my mom wasn't the one to blame because she told the principal that Madison had been... well, cutting herself (I've been slowly accepting it as reality); she just had to follow the protocol because she was a volunteer at the school.

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  "No, they can stay," I said with a subtle smile. I could tell my parents were somewhat relieved that they felt accomplished of a son who's willing to admit everything without privacy.

  Of course, I didn't tell them the videos.

  Rachelle smiled more obviously than me. "Alright, now let me see here," she looked at her PC, "it says here that you have been here before with Lisa, who isn't here anymore, and... Wow, it was around the same time as today. Spring fever, huh?"

  Everyone sorta chuckled. It was sorta eerie that it was around the same time as three years ago. The only reason I was here before was that this one chic was giving me a hard time at school and when my teacher saw that my grades were slipping, I told her that I'd previously thought of suicide.

  Previously. I wasn't thinking of doing it then when I told her or later. It was just in the past. I was perfectly fine, otherwise. Besides, the chic was having a rough time with her parents' divorce—I only learned it was a divorce a year later—and her actions were seemingly justified. If anything, I just got in the way.

  "Well," Rachelle said, looking away from the PC, "let's start at the beginning."

  Alright, all I have to do is leave out the videos. They don't need to know. They were already deleted, I apologized, it's done.

◄◄◄

  Amanda and I stayed up late talking about how the session was going to go. I didn't need her to tell me what to do; I would've messed it up anyway.

  "Do you think I should mention the videos?" I asked her.

  "Mention the videos and then... what? Have your parents watch over your shoulder on everything you do till you graduate high school? Jesus, sometimes you can be really funny."

  "Amanda, I'm serious."

  She narrowed her eyes at me. Then sighed as she slouched on the couch. I'd been pacing back and forth around the room, waiting to hear something from her.

  "Okay, I won't mention the videos," I said after an unintentional silence, "but I need to tell them something!"

  "Enzo, it's not that hard," Amanda said with an attitude. "Just do what you did with your mom and everyone at school."

  "Tell them that...?"

  "The story, Enzo."

  "Oh! Right, the story. I should say that the story I wrote was based on Madison?"

  "Exactly. See, you've got it," Amanda smiled at what very little I actually did.

  "But the videos—"

  "The videos were just a phase, Enzo," Amanda cut me off, now getting up from the couch to look me in the eye. "Admit it: You're lonely, miserable, and just want to have a girlfriend."

  No comment. It was true.

  "And you played with fire by making that video knowing there was a huge risk that someone unstable would find—"

  I stifled a laugh. "Okay, I'm sorry, but if I remember correctly, you were the one that came up with the idea."

  Amanda rolled her eyes. "Yes, blame it on anyone but yourself. Yeah, see where that gets you."

  "But you—"

  "I asked you a question, you answered it and you willingly made that video because you were desperate."

  "Well, I had to make that video, I was behind schedule," I replied, a little more desperately than intended.

  "Were you behind schedule—"

  "Yes!" I said, wide-eyed.

  "—or is there another reason why you started the channel?"

  Silence. I wiped my eyes. It was getting late. I needed some fucking sleep. I always start acting like Kells when I'm up at night: angry, drunk, and believing in conspiracy theories that are really stupid.

  "I'll talk to you when you stop lying to yourself," Amanda said in an almost-whisper.

  Amanda was definitely different. But why?

►►►

  I started speaking. I told the Rachelle about Madison, how the story was "based on her." My mom filled in the missing key points. My dad stayed quiet throughout most of the session. Rachelle was rather pleased with how well I maintained myself. I always hated that part of me. The part that acts older than it should. I'm only 14, and I'm thinking like a high school senior while not focusing on how to get better at eighth-grade social studies or science.

  Rachelle honestly thought I was already a freshman in high school. Boy, I wish I was. I'd be out of class that was hormone-driven and, for the most part, liberal. No, I didn't have a problem with liberals, per se; I just don't like the extreme ones. Some of their policies aren't in my favor, too, but as long as they aren't burning down colleges or trying to deport Ben Shapiro, Steve Crowder, or Milo Yiannopolous, then I was fine with them. Plus, both my parents were Republican—so was Kells, though he was more radical; another reason why he wasn't very popular and the butt of a lot of jokes.

  I have to say, though, there were a few things that were interesting during the session. I told Rachelle that I didn't really talk to anyone outside of school and my house was fairly quiet, so I got lonely. She asked me if my actions—relating to my story—were linked to loneliness, saying that people do such things because they're lonely. I said yes, taking a mental note to mention it in a video.

  She also related most of my feelings to those of a teenage girl. I couldn't help but smile; it was that or laugh. I guess either would've been fine, now that I think about. Although I'm not sure if my parents thought I was gay from then on out. Regardless, Rachelle just explained that everything just went back to puberty, changing hormones, all the boring shit I forgot about but realized to be true. I even linked it to Madison's behavior. Sure, I talked about her anonymously and her anger was justified, but if she weren't on mood swings, everything could've ended somewhat more rationally.

  That is, I hope it would've.

  With that, Rachelle concluded that I didn't need to come back to counseling/therapy. I was actually kinda bummed to hear that, especially since Rachelle was pretty cool and was less stern than Lisa. Even so, Rachelle still gave me and my parents her card in case anything comes up. Even today, I still have her card in my pocket as some sort of hope that things will get better for me.

  I just needed to have patience.