POV: Adrian
I walk into the second "wellness session" like I'm heading to trial.
This time, I've got snacks—gummy worms and spite—and I'm five minutes late on purpose. If I have to sit in a circle and name my emotions again, I should at least get some form of compensation. Sugar counts.
The room looks exactly the same: folding chairs, walls the color of apathy, motivational quotes that make me want to commit minor crimes. ("Your Thoughts Matter!" No, Janet. They really don't.)
Faith's already there, highlighters at the ready like we're about to take a test on trauma. Lucy's curled up in her chair, writing furiously in her black notebook. Jason offers me a granola bar the second I sit down. And Leo? Leo's balancing a pencil on his upper lip like it's a talent show.
Ms. Ramirez beams at us like we're a basket of puppies. "I'm glad to see everyone back!"
I consider saying, Don't get used to it, but Jason looks genuinely happy to be here, so I just nod and start eating a gummy worm instead.
"Today," Ms. Ramirez says, "we're working on emotional identification."
Leo whispers, "Oh boy, feelings."
Lucy mutters, "Pass."
Faith underlines something violently.
Ms. Ramirez hands out a laminated Feelings Wheel. It's a literal rainbow chart of emotions, broken down into categories like mad, sad, afraid, and joyful. I swear it looks like someone designed it during a sugar crash.
"This tool can help you articulate your feelings," she says. "Point to the section that resonates with how you feel today."
I hold it like it's a biohazard.
"This feels like something they'd hand out in prison," I say.
Jason leans over to peek at my chart. "Which one are you?"
I squint. "'Skeptical.' Followed closely by 'mildly nauseous.'"
Leo spins his like a fidget spinner. "I'm a delightful blend of overwhelmed, giddy, and tired of capitalism."
Lucy doesn't even look up. "Where's 'annoyed at forced vulnerability'?"
Ms. Ramirez gives us that patient smile again. I think it's starting to crack.
"Let's go around," she says. "Start with you, Faith."
Faith's pen stops moving. She sits a little straighter. "I'm feeling… pressured."
Everyone's quiet for a second. Even Leo.
Faith rushes to explain. "Not from the group! Just… school. College stuff. I have three AP classes and I'm president of three clubs and I haven't slept more than five hours in a week, but it's fine. I'm fine."
Her smile looks like it might break.
Ms. Ramirez nods. "Thank you for sharing. That's very honest."
Leo raises a hand. "I second the not sleeping thing. But in my case, it's because I binge-watched ten episodes of Riverdale in one night and now I'm too afraid of my own choices to rest."
Faith snorts—actually snorts—and then covers her mouth in horror.
Jason gives Leo a thumbs-up. "Mood."
"Adrian?" Ms. Ramirez looks at me like I'm a flight risk. Which, fair.
I glance at the wheel. Then at everyone else. And—for some reason—I don't go with snarky deflection #17.
"Confused," I say. "Not about life. About why I'm starting to care what any of you think."
There's a beat of silence. Then Leo throws a gummy worm at me.
"You love us already," he grins.
"I'll deny it in court."
_________________________
After the Session – Marty's Diner
Our group chat now officially exists. Leo named it "Disaster Club: Feelings Not Optional". I threatened to leave. Jason added a sticker of a smiling potato with a heart.
We end up back at Marty's, crammed into the same booth. Lucy gets hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. Faith orders coffee with an alarming amount of sugar. Jason's splitting a basket of mozzarella sticks with Leo.
I'm halfway through pretending not to care when I notice Lucy's notebook. It's open just enough that I can see a poem:
they told me silence means peace
but no one heard the war inside my mouth.
Okay.
Noted.
Leo starts reading the worksheet out loud in a dramatic voice. "Today I feel like… a soggy pancake abandoned at brunch—"
Faith giggles into her coffee. Lucy actually chuckles.
Jason tears up a napkin into little hearts. He does this when he's nervous. I've started keeping track.
Then he says, "Do you think Ms. Ramirez actually thinks we're making progress?"
Leo shrugs. "Define progress. I haven't punched anyone all week."
"You've never punched anyone," I say.
"Exactly. That's growth, my dude."
_________________________
Later – Adrian's Bedroom
I open my journal. Yes, I have one now. Shut up.
Mostly, it's just lists. Observations. Sarcasm with some feelings snuck in like contraband.
Things I'd Rather Do Than Talk About My Emotions in Group Therapy
1. Get a root canal from a raccoon.
2. Watch all 13 seasons of Grey's Anatomy.
3. Re-watch my parents' last argument on a loop.
4. Admit Jason is actually kind of endearing.
5. Care.
(Dammit.)
At the bottom of the page, I write:
They came back. All of them.
So did I.
Why?
_________________________
End of Chapter 2
_________________________
Coming Up in Chapter 3: "Highly Caffeinated Breakdowns"
Faith spirals when her perfect image starts to crumble.
Adrian sees more than he lets on—but can't find the words to say it.
Leo opens up—just a little.
Disaster Club becomes their unspoken refuge.