Updates will come when the inspiration hits. I do have a bit of a game plan with this story.

I've decided to use a 2011-2012 calendar.

Enjoy! ;)

October 13, 2011. Thursday.

"Do you know why you're here, Danny?" I ask, running my eyes over his file and the newest report. He glances at me, not saying a word in reply. I lean forward on my desk and fold my hands in front of me. "Danny, you broke someone's nose and dislocated their shoulder."

"Dash deserved it," he remarks quietly, pulling at the hem of his shirt.

"Why?" I wonder casually, hoping to receive some glimpse of information to help. He only shrugs. "Danny, do you want to be here?"

"No. No, I really don't."

"You're lucky Mr. Lancer managed to talk Dash's parents out of a lawsuit. Do you still want to be here?"

He raises an eyebrow at me, sitting straighter in the chair. I vaguely notice the few red stains on the front of his shirt and the busted lip that he has as his own.

Danny doesn't seem too bothered about sitting in my office for issues pertaining to legal assault.

"Between a lawsuit and this?" he muses. "I suppose being here is better."

"Good choice," I agree, leaning back. "Danny, why did you do that to Dash?"

He pauses to think, a small frown beginning on his lips. "Does anyone ever think of why I would have to do that to Dash?"

I'm not surprised by his comment. It's what I expect to hear. "You've never done it before." He doesn't respond. I continue. "Danny, do you get picked on a lot?"

His blue eyes roll openly and then he huffs. "May I go?"

"No, Danny. You're now required to see me daily until we figure out what's going on inside your head."

"I don't have time for this," he states, rubbing his temple.

"And why's that?"

Once again, he leaves me without an answer. He deliberately looks out my window and stares into space to avoid me. "Danny?" I try again. "The longer you ignore me and cooperating, the longer you will sit in that same chair and look out that same window and see that same tree and hear the same questions. It won't get easier for you, and I can't help you if you won't speak to me properly."

"I don't need help," he mutters bitterly, fixating on the window.

"Need or want, Danny?"

"No difference."

"Yes, there is a difference. I want to help you. It's my job. I like to help kids."

"I'm not a kid."

"We'll get into that later, I'm sure. But I still like to help."

"The last person who tried to help almost vaporized my sister and sent me on the path of self-hating depression."

I blink at him and sigh. I know the stories of the ghostly counselor. I've heard and still hear them, and they only make it harder for kids to reach out to me. Danny seems to be another case of just that.

I check the clock on the wall above the door and purse my lips. It's been a solid hour since he was brought to me. And we've only gotten to talking in the past five or ten minutes. "Danny," I begin, "you may leave to go home with your parents now. I'll write you a pass for tomorrow's session." He stays silent, just interested in the pass I hand out to him and the option to finally leave my presence. "Refrain from anymore trouble until then. You were lucky not to be suspended for this. And don't even think about skipping. Understand me?"

"Goodbye, Mrs. Collin," he says instead, opening the door and shutting it behind him. I prop my head up with a hand and stare where he had just been.

"This is going to take forever," I murmur, knowing full well that I'm right.