Suburbs Boy

2 - #CutForChad

"And how exactly did you feel when she made that statement?"

"I don't know. Angry I guess."

The therapist stared at him in silence. She did this after he answered any question, as if waiting for him to change his mind. Suburbs Boy stared back at her, slowly getting irritated with every second passed in silence.

"Angry?" She finally spoke. "You felt angry?"

"I think that's what I said."

"And who would you blame this anger on?"

"Myself. I mean, is there anyone else to blame?"

"Not even Mia?"

"She didn't do anything wrong did she?"

The therapist bent her head to write on the pad she held in her hand and he used the opportunity to look around the blue room. He remembered reading somewhere that blue calmed the mind. The room was vacant excluding the two sofa chairs they were currently accommodating, a desk, and a seemingly New bookshelf located next to the door. There was a french window behind the desk which faces the city, giving him an elegant view of the skyscrapers he was yet to own.
He returned his attention to the therapist who was, to his surprise, staring at him.

"If I gave you a knife and the permission to murder, would you use it to kill me?" She asked.

Yes. He thought, already on the verge of doing it.

"No." He replied, watching as her eyebrows rose in disbelief.

"Do you have any problems at school?"

"I wouldn't exactly call them problems. The students just hate me."

"You go to The Academy for Privileged and Wealthy Faces if I'm correct, is there any reason for them to hate you?"

"Yes."

"Would you mind sharing?"

"My school gives scholarships every year to 40 students that are neither wealthy nor privileged so the school is fixed with a variety of people. I made a speech last year addressing the idea that the scholarship giveaway should be stopped. Let's just say The Second and Third World students didn't exactly agree with me."

"And why did you do this?"

"My mother suggested the idea."

"Do you feel your mother is to blame for the hatred that you feel has surfaced out of this?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because I could have said no. I let myself do it."

A timer went off.

"Unfortunately, your time with me has come to an end. If you wish to continue this session, I will leave some space for you tomorrow on my schedule."

Suburbs Boy stood up and began to walk out of her office.

"Wait. I didn't get your name."

"It's Chad." He said, turning around. "Chad Mackenzie." He saw her eyes glint with recognition and watched her arms itch to request an autograph.

As he left, Chad made a mental note to find a new therapist and , preferably, one that had unlimited time for him.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

When he got to the huge metal doors of The Academy For Privileged And Wealthy Faces, he fought against the urge to run back home. He placed his thumb on the little pedestal near the door handle and basked in the heat of the scanners rays as it read his fingerprint. Convinced it was him, the doors creaked open slowly. Once the doors opened, he was hit with the lavender scent of the school. There were lockers arranged neatly to his left and right down a never ending corridor and a huge banner a few feet away from him that dangled from the ceiling read in bold letters ; GO CHANDELIERS! !!!
He felt like running back out.
A teacher walked up to him angrily with his eyebrows furrowed.

"And is there a reason that you are late Mr Mackenzie?" The bald headed man walked up to him.

"Hey Mr. Henshaw." Chad put up his fake smile. "How's the next movie going? I was thinking maybe you should try another genre - science fiction? This romance stuff is getting old isn't it?"

"I will not tolerate you speaking to me that way." He could see the man's face turning red. "Off to class. Now!"

●●●

When Suburbs Boy got to class, the teaching immediately stopped. He could feel the tension as the entire class took time to realise who he was. Madame Rachle, a retired world famous actor/Spanish teacher, stared at him and sighed.

"Nice of you to attend class Chad. Take a seat."

Chad looked round the class. The white class - seriously, the walls and floor were white and so we're the desks - was filled and there was only one seat left for him. Unfortunately, it was a back seat directly left to Nicole Scrubs.
He walked to the seat and sat down and the teaching resumed.

"Okay chikos as I was saying Hay tres platanos..."

"Why did you even bother showing up Suburbs Boy? I'm sure daddy could whip up some nice expensive tutors for you. It's gotta be quite hard to sit in the same class with someone from the Second World." Nicole turned to him.

He kept quiet.

"What, you've got nothing to say? Or are you waiting for daddy's bodyguards to haul me out of your life? One more not - as - rich person to be rid of for good. Won't that make Suburbs Boy happy?" She poked him.

"What is your problem with me?" He snapped suddenly, grabbing her hand and staring into her plain brown eyes.

"You want on know my problem with you? The reason I hate you so much, Suburbs Boy, is because you're a judgemental prick who thinks only about himself. You're a dumbass who pretends not to notice the millions of people in the world going on the #CutForChad campaign. That's why I hate you." She yanked her arm out of his grip and hissed, facing forward.

The Bell rang.

"Off to your next class everyone." Madame Rachle finished her teaching. "And don't forget your homework. I expect to see papers on my desk tomorrow."

Once Chad left the class, he knew that he had to get away. Coming to school today was a mistake. He walked smartly through the hustle of diverse students and cringed when he came in skin contact with someone.
He pushed his way through the crowd and burst out the doors, immediately breaking into a sprint. He had to get away. It wasn't even because of Nicole or because of the fact that it was a school that supported diversity.

He just did.