A ROOM WITH TEN CHAIRS IN A CIRCLE — it was in the psychiatric counselling room, with many young teenaged girls mingling about — except for two, sang-froid, butch striplings in synthetic jackets, wished to be left alone from the others in the group.

Both the churlish thirteen-year-olds were seated on the chairs, laughing out loudly jocular while looking at the most-watched video on the planet, on YouTube, on a tablet.

Roxy Gillman, a White tribade, wearing black biker leather jacket with some facial piercing — she was with a Mulatto buddy who kept short blond dreadlocks — who also wore a similar biker jacket and went by the nickname Y.T.

They were repeating a viral video over and over — laughing like crazy to the funniest video on the planet — which was less of three more million hits, to reach a billion viewers — on the YouTube portal.

The video showed President Walter Rosewood's funeral in the rain — with six sickly, male military, pallbearers carrying the casket. One of them slipped and the rest of them dropped the casket which rolled onto the grass.

Both girls were waggish and guffawed again — and Roxy responded that she read some meme in Google+, that the late Walter Rosewood was the second-worst president in the US history, coming after the one known as the 'American Idiot.' Both the boisterous teenagers laughed aloud again.

They toned down to titters when the door opened — their psychiatrist Dr Norah Connors of University Harding Hospital entered the room — with Roberta — and the nine-year-old was then introduced to some other girls present.

Roxy Gillman whispered, after having a hunch that she had seen Roberta from somewhere before — and Y.T. made a lowbrow remark, that she was Roxy's long lost sister, whom her mother conceived for the money, by doing surrogate jobs for her crack habit.

Roxy finally recalled who the girl was, and verbalized to YT's face in a lower tone...

"Wait a minute, she was on TV a couple of weeks ago — that is the kid who killed a fucking Mexican male nurse in some hospital here."

Dr Connors introduced Roberta to the rest when they all settled down on their seats. Roberta felt extremely out of place, and nodded once and sat close beside the doctor. She was timorous — and kept looking down at her own feet — Y.T. sighed to Roxy...

"What a retard for a killer — that probably runs in your redneck family too."

The psychiatrist recapped their last meeting topic on having big dreams, because with the current employment situation after the extinction of the male gender — there would be lots of opportunities for the surviving female gender, to access into all kinds of jobs and careers, that was left open for them to fill up.

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Dr Connors turned to Roberta and instigated her to participate...

"Okay Roberta, what are your dreams — what do you want to be once you graduate someday?"

Roberta looked down nervously, feeling that everyone from the city was scrutinizing her — someone who is so insignificant — from a farm in Wellsville, Utah — would hope to achieve someday.

"Come on, you are among friends now, Roberta — the more you share with friends — the more support you will get from every one of us in here."

Roberta managed to pull some courage, to voice out weakly towards the doctor's ferment encouragement...

"I... I, want to be a policewoman."

Y.T. retorted instantly with loud laughter and subverted...

"Whoa, she wanna be a white-pig! Now, how is that even remotely possible? Don't you have a juvie-record or something — after killing that Mexican dude in that hospital?

"Now tell me, Dr Connors, ain't being racist here but how is that she got away with murder? Is it because she got a White free pass?"

Even the Caucasian buddy Roxy, broke out laughing aloud — while the rest of the young patients looked at Roberta inversely, and they whispered among themselves.

Roberta took umbrage — she felt really ill-fitting being in that room — and she left her chair. The giggling Roxy saw her running out of the room after the castigation.

Dr Connors criticized Y.T.'s insensitivity and offending remarks, but the Mulatto made a comeback...

"But Dr Connors, I am stating the all the facts here — look at her — can that pork-chop there really serve and protect? I will put my last dollar, that this bad-ass, redneck kid might have a better chance of turning up into one messed up, racist, serial-killer psycho someday in a classroom shootout!"

Roxy guffawed hard again to her buddy's humorous malediction.

*

Roberta sat on a bench in the park. The grass was tall, and the grounds were littered with not much of up keeping, since the lack of demand for menial jobs by women. Some pigeons on the grass approached to be fed.

She took out a half-eaten, peanut-butter sandwich in a zip-locked plastic from her backpack; she pinched bits and fed the birds.

Roxy and Y.T. approached her...

"Hey Roberta, we both came here to apologize...

"Sorry, we did not know your side of the story, until Dr Connors told us both just now — about what that spic motherfucker did to your sister...

"We are really sorry, dude."

Roberta did not acknowledge their empathy, she was still affronted — it was the same everywhere — the older girls just like Haley Eastman from Wellsville, who used to always bully her.

She got up on her feet, and walked away — Y.T. tapped Roxy's shoulder...

"Forget it, Rox — let her be."

But Roxy ignored her. She walked and paced beside Roberta, while Y.T. followed from behind. Roxy took out a pack of cigarettes and introduced herself...

"I am Roxy Gillman by the way — do you want a smoke?"

"I don't do drugs."

Roberta retaliated, while Roxy lighted up her fag...

"No, it is not weed, just smokes."

Roxy knew that she was a non-smoker — but, she needed an icebreaker to gain her trust.

"It is legal. Cigarettes are sold everywhere — come, have one."

Roberta looked at the pack before she took a stick. Roxy lighted it up with her Zippo for the rebel-girl — who was a potential subaltern gang recruitment.

Roberta coughed after inhaling a puff, Roxy next introduced her buddy — Yolanda Travis...

"This is Y.T. — why don't you hang out with us, Roberta?"

Roberta was instantly drawn, and enthralled by their panache appearance in their flamboyant, black jackets with gang emblems sewn-on — this was her only chance to hang out with older girls of Laura's age — furthermore, they were also tomboys just like her.

The nine-year-old took her hand...

"It is Robbie — call me Robbie."