Wally West
Jan 4th, 2018, 06:13:59 PM
Brentwood Academy was a fancy school. More importantly, it was an expensive school, and needed to cultivate the appearence of fanciness to justify those fees. Some of the advantages were genuine. Teachers. Facilities. Equipment. Even the food, and ensuring it wasn't 30% grease and additives like some of the school meals Wally had eperienced before, took a decent bite out of the school's budget. Some of the factors were just for show, though. The uniforms. The art pieces. The new but made to look retro furniture. The library that had an irresponsible number of rare first editions for a collection exclusively available to teenagers.
And then there was the therapist. It was weird. Historically, therapy used to be a mark of shame. Like, even as recently as whenever the hell Mad Men happens, the whole deal with January Jones and the shink phoning her husband to report on all the sessions. That was, what, two generations ago? Even Wally's dad's generation, they didn't take all that psychology hocus pocus seriously; not unless things started to get really bad. But nowadays, it just became one of those things that everyone had if they could afford it. One of those entry level I'm not poor badges that you sewed onto the sleeve of your Socialite Boy Scout uniform, or whatever.
So of course, Brentwood Academy had a staff psychologist. A fancy one too, judging by all the letters after her name. Wally knew this, because he had to. He didn't need it, but it was mandatory. Some sort of regularly scheduled wellness evaluation - because he was new, because he had a new roommate in Connor Kent, junk like that. It was all so pointless, sitting around and talking about his problems. Wally didn't have problems. He didn't have issues. He was Kid Flash! Not that he could tell her that, obviously, but come on. On what planet was Wally West someone who wasn't 100% happy and healthy in the head?
Okay, so sure, having Connor in his personal space was a little weird. Wally had spent his whole life as an only child, and his aunts and uncles were only just getting around to supplying him with nieces, so it wasn't like he'd ever needed to share a bedroom before, save for sleep overs and all that. So yeah, it was strange to have Connor up in his business, especially with how sorta odd he was. Like, not bad odd, just weird? Maybe Connor hadn't ever shared a room before either, and they were both just figuring how to adapt to it alll, y'know? There was definitely a lot less shenanigans and hanging out than Wally had imagined, but it was still early days. By Thanksgiving, or after the holidays or whatever, everything would fall into place. And it would be great. Automatic best friends.
But aside from that, everything was great. Perfectly normal. Nothing to talk about. Nothing to justify this waste of time. But, mandatory was mandatory. Ugh.
Wally was so wrapped up in his annoyace that he barely noticed the other person in the quiet side corridor that separated Doctor Ashemore's office from the rest of the school. It was designed to be private, the rooms around deliberately used for purposes that gave crowds of students little reason to find themselves there. It wasn't about shame, it wasn't about hiding the fact that you were about to have your head shrunk; it was meant to be something more sympathetic and thoughtful than that. Privacy in case the sessions got you all emotional, something like that. There were couches and magazines and stuff like that; and while the sessions were usually staggered with gaps in between so that no one was ever waiting, the unspoken rule was that, if you showed up before the person before you was done, you got comfy and buried your head in something to read, and didn't look up when the other person left. Respecting people's privacy, that kind of thing.
Wally wasn't ever early. One of the first rules of hiding the fact that you were a speedster was showing up an acceptable amount of late, or otherwise just in time, so no one would ever think of you as being fast. Today though, he and Connor had just been sitting there in mutual silence - small talk was not one of Connor's strong suits - and so Wally had wound up leaving a few minutes before he'd intended to, and walking slowly - agonisingly so - still hadn't been enough of a delay. So unoccustomed to being early, Wally wasn't paying attention when he reached the corridor, and opened the door with such absent-minded force that the girl on the other side - who he quickly deduced must have been reaching for the handle herself - recoiled back, startled.
"Oh, jeez," Wally apologised instantly, finding himself breaking the unspoken rule, not just looking at the girl in question, but making eye contact. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were -"
There were many things on the list of what Wally didn't realise. Of most immintent significance was the fact that he was standing, blocking the door, and preventing the poor girl from making her escape. He flashed an embarassed smile, and took a step to the side, giving her room to pass.
And then there was the therapist. It was weird. Historically, therapy used to be a mark of shame. Like, even as recently as whenever the hell Mad Men happens, the whole deal with January Jones and the shink phoning her husband to report on all the sessions. That was, what, two generations ago? Even Wally's dad's generation, they didn't take all that psychology hocus pocus seriously; not unless things started to get really bad. But nowadays, it just became one of those things that everyone had if they could afford it. One of those entry level I'm not poor badges that you sewed onto the sleeve of your Socialite Boy Scout uniform, or whatever.
So of course, Brentwood Academy had a staff psychologist. A fancy one too, judging by all the letters after her name. Wally knew this, because he had to. He didn't need it, but it was mandatory. Some sort of regularly scheduled wellness evaluation - because he was new, because he had a new roommate in Connor Kent, junk like that. It was all so pointless, sitting around and talking about his problems. Wally didn't have problems. He didn't have issues. He was Kid Flash! Not that he could tell her that, obviously, but come on. On what planet was Wally West someone who wasn't 100% happy and healthy in the head?
Okay, so sure, having Connor in his personal space was a little weird. Wally had spent his whole life as an only child, and his aunts and uncles were only just getting around to supplying him with nieces, so it wasn't like he'd ever needed to share a bedroom before, save for sleep overs and all that. So yeah, it was strange to have Connor up in his business, especially with how sorta odd he was. Like, not bad odd, just weird? Maybe Connor hadn't ever shared a room before either, and they were both just figuring how to adapt to it alll, y'know? There was definitely a lot less shenanigans and hanging out than Wally had imagined, but it was still early days. By Thanksgiving, or after the holidays or whatever, everything would fall into place. And it would be great. Automatic best friends.
But aside from that, everything was great. Perfectly normal. Nothing to talk about. Nothing to justify this waste of time. But, mandatory was mandatory. Ugh.
Wally was so wrapped up in his annoyace that he barely noticed the other person in the quiet side corridor that separated Doctor Ashemore's office from the rest of the school. It was designed to be private, the rooms around deliberately used for purposes that gave crowds of students little reason to find themselves there. It wasn't about shame, it wasn't about hiding the fact that you were about to have your head shrunk; it was meant to be something more sympathetic and thoughtful than that. Privacy in case the sessions got you all emotional, something like that. There were couches and magazines and stuff like that; and while the sessions were usually staggered with gaps in between so that no one was ever waiting, the unspoken rule was that, if you showed up before the person before you was done, you got comfy and buried your head in something to read, and didn't look up when the other person left. Respecting people's privacy, that kind of thing.
Wally wasn't ever early. One of the first rules of hiding the fact that you were a speedster was showing up an acceptable amount of late, or otherwise just in time, so no one would ever think of you as being fast. Today though, he and Connor had just been sitting there in mutual silence - small talk was not one of Connor's strong suits - and so Wally had wound up leaving a few minutes before he'd intended to, and walking slowly - agonisingly so - still hadn't been enough of a delay. So unoccustomed to being early, Wally wasn't paying attention when he reached the corridor, and opened the door with such absent-minded force that the girl on the other side - who he quickly deduced must have been reaching for the handle herself - recoiled back, startled.
"Oh, jeez," Wally apologised instantly, finding himself breaking the unspoken rule, not just looking at the girl in question, but making eye contact. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were -"
There were many things on the list of what Wally didn't realise. Of most immintent significance was the fact that he was standing, blocking the door, and preventing the poor girl from making her escape. He flashed an embarassed smile, and took a step to the side, giving her room to pass.