Help, I'm Gay! How Do I Tell My Girlfriend? (Sean)

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There was no shortage of rumors milling about the school over Jackson's recent arrest on the charge of breaking and entering an unoccupied residence. Both he and Kodi had been found in a 'compromising position'. While that detail had been left out of any reports to the school, kids had a way of making up their own minds about why the two of them would be found alone together in the middle of the night in an empty house, and one of them was bound to be right. Jackson didn't know what was happening to Kodi regarding that, but through recommendation by his advocate, Jackson's case was severed from the dentokinetic's and recommended to family court, on account of it being his first offense and of him being a minor. Which resulted in a sentence of community service and court mandated counseling.

How generous of them, he thought.

That was why Jackson was sitting there in Dr. Neville's office today, and for the second time since he came to Hammel. The boy had never really been in any serious trouble before - actually, he had always been the type of person to help out the teachers and schmooze off of them, as well as serve as disciplinary committee(aka. snitch) - so this was certainly a new experience for him. The other time when he'd been in this office was after his grandmother and guardian passed away this past summer. Grief counseling. A hell of a lot of good that did him, considering where he ended up now.

Jackson felt like he couldn't fall any lower than he already had. He had nothing else to lose at this point. Well...there was one thing he still had, after all the drama he'd been through over the past several months, but he didn't think he was going to have that for much longer either. No, actually, it wouldn't be fair if he kept it. He just didn't have the courage yet to let go.

Jackson shifted in his seat, looking around the office restlessly. "Um...so.." he started hesitantly. "How is this all supposed to work? I'm not really used to this 'talking' sorta thing...I mean, of course I talk, but...." Jackson frowned slightly, trying to find the words. "I guess....it's the being honest part that always trips me up, y'know?" It'd become a bad habit, and one he didn't even realize he had. At least, not until recently. "Sorry..." he said for no clear reason. He just felt like he was supposed to say it in this situation.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean agreed with court-ordered counseling as an alternative to incarceration, particularly with adolescents, particularly with students. With notable exceptions for remorseless violence and sociopathic tendencies, the psychiatrist believed in the importance of rehabilitation; even with his exceptions, he believed in neutralization rather than vengeance. His goal was always to limit the amount of harm done to the community at large while maximizing benefit for all involved.

Of course, students who ran afoul of the law had the Hammel attorney on their side to advocate for them, and any plea bargain or court mandate that involved counseling invariably involved Sean Neville in his position as the Hammel psychiatrist.

A small wonder, then, how Jackson had found himself in Sean’s office.

As with all sessions that came from disciplinary action, the psychiatrist had not invited Jackson to sit in the back of the office on the plush sofa. Instead, Sean sat behind his desk, and he had indicated that Jackson should sit in one of the chairs across from him.

After exchanging pleasantries, he waited for the boy to begin with whatever was on his mind. The psychiatrist had a few topics he wanted to track in accordance with the court order (although the specifics would remain confidential between Sean and Jackson), but, for the most part, he would let the boy dictate the flow of their discussion.

Gazing at Jackson from across the desk, he listened while the boy floundered awkwardly, as so many past students had while sitting in that same chair. Finally, the psychiatrist cut in and replied, “We have a couple of options. You can either start with whatever is on your mind, or I can start with a topic of my choosing.”

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Some had said that Dr. Neville was intimidating. Sitting across from the psychiatrist in his office, especially after he’d messed up so much, Jackson could see what they were talking about. It was as if anything he did or said in that therapy room was going to be scrutinized and used to label him as…well, whatever he ended up being labeled as. Jackson wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what that ended up being.

So it was little surprise that the boy who was normally so talkative and rarely had a problem coming up with something to jabber about was suddenly tongue-tied in the face of being expected to choose a topic. Where did he even begin? Did that mean that he could just spend the whole session talking about how he loved pastries and not actually take it anywhere productive? That was tempting…

“I think….” he stared, hesitatingly. “It might be better for you to pick something.” Jackson never had been good at taking charge, at least not in the presence of someone so…authoritative. Jackson seemed to shrink down into his chair, dropping his head somewhat ashamedly. “I’d probably just go on about something pointless, y’know? Not really progressive, huh?”