Chapter Text
"I admit my guilt and express my deepest remorse for my actions and how they have reflected a stain on the prestigious legacy of State University."
"As you can see, my client will never engage in such antics again. Please, don't ruin a life over some silly boyish missteps."
"It is highly unusual to bring a lawyer to these hearings, Mr. Uppercrust."
"Mr. Uppercrust the Third," Bradley corrected.
"Ah. Yes. The Third." The head of the disciplinary tribunal tutted. He was a stodgy, middle-aged man with a receding hairline, thick glasses, and a sour attitude. But he knew where things stood with Bradley -- there was only so much he could do to him when the sizable check Bradley Uppercrust II had written for the school.
"In lieu of a first time offense, I am enacting a year long probation from both the Gamma Mu Mu fraternity and any college sports outside of classes, skirmishes, scrimmages, or recreational hobbying. In short, Mr. Uppercrust... the Third... you may not engage in any official sports where titles, trophies, or accolades on are the line."
Bradley opened his mouth to argue, but his lawyer interrupted, saying, "A fine decision, Mr. Tompsley."
"In addition..."
"Addition?" Bradley raised an eyebrow. "Isn't probation from anything worth coming to college for sufficient?"
"Most people come to college for an education, Mr. The Third. But I suppose that's just a formality for you, hmm?" Bradley rolled his eyes. "Irregardless--"
"Not a word," Bradley mumbled.
"Irregardless, there is still the matter of your obvious anger management issues to sort out. I am also instituting mandatory therapy sessions here at the school. You can talk about your feelings of frustrations, look for healthy ways to cope with the loss of your privileges, and perhaps, gain some perspective."
"Here at the school? There are licensed therapists on staff at this dump?"
"A few of our professors are licensed, yes, but you will actually be guinea pigs for our graduate level psychology majors. They are in need of, shall we say, students to fill the ranks of their studies towards their dissertations. For some reason, college aged students aren't chomping at the bit for the chance at free group therapy."
"Group therapy? Oh, no, no I won't be doing that," Bradley said with a laugh. "My father's donation--"
"Your father's donation is keeping you from being expelled and losing many of your non-transferable credits. Your blunder was publicized across the nation. True, only a few dozen or so people care enough about the X Games to actively watch, but it was still, as you say, a stain on our reputation. I have cross-referenced your class schedule, and you will be attending Tuesdays and Thursdays from two o'clock to three. Your session leader, Angela, will have to sign off on each of your sessions, and your voice must be heard at every meeting. Are we clear?"
Bradley opened his mouth to argue again, and his lawyer cut in, "He'll be there, Mr. Tompsley. With bells on."
"Arthur, you can't expect--"
"With. Bells. On," his lawyer repeated. "We wouldn't want to waste that donation, would we, Bradley?"
"Whatever. Bells, whistles, air horns, all that jazz. Are we done here?"
- - -
Max stared at the flyer on the bulletin board outside the tutoring center for a long time. He wasn't even sure why he looked at the board in the first place. Sure, once or twice that year, he gave some plasma or joined random testing groups for some quick cash, but he didn't really go out of his way to look for those things.
Group therapy*, at no cost to you! Join a group of your fellow classmates and discuss social and emotional issues, get feedback and support, and come out a better you!
*Group meetings are not a replacement for actual therapy. Legally, sessions are not therapy, as they are not conducted by licensed professionals. If you are experiencing thoughts of suicide, self-harm, hurting others, or are on the verge of an intense mental breakdown, please seek professional help.
"Heya Max, how is it hanging?" Max nearly jumped out of his skin. He forgot PJ sometimes met his girlfriend in this building after her classes. It was a weird building -- only "soft science" classes were held there, and Max (and PJ and Bobby, since they all lined up their schedules together) wasn't taking any of those yet, so he only came to speak to a professor at their office about an essay.
"Uh, good, Peej." He fist bumped PJ. "Just... perusing the ol' board. Heheh."
PJ's eyes quickly scanned the board and he pointed out the same flyer that Max had just been looking at. "Oh hey, Angela is running one of those sessions! She's wants to dip her toes in the pools of our minds."
"I'm still surprised she's psychology and not like, drama or poetry."
"'Poetry feeds the soul, but words alone cannot feed the body,'" PJ recited. "That's what she said, anyways."
"Yeah, heh. I was..." Max looked at it again and rubbed his neck. "I was thinking of signing up. I never did get therapy for..."
"Oh. Yeah. Your abandonment issues, your relationship with your dad, your inferiority complex, that time you were caught mastu--"
Max covered up PJ's mouth before he could finish the sentence. "We get it! Can we not bring up my worst moments of puberty around cute girls who can psychoanalyze me to death? Not that you're any better, just not as cute." He released PJ's mouth.
PJ pointed up a sagely finger. "Angela says that 'cute,' like 'beauty,' is in the eye of the beholder, and that my plumpness is reminiscent of so many baby animals."
Max pinched his cheeks. "Fine, you're a cutie. Like a baby seal."
"Thank you for acknowledging that my roundness is my power."
Max ripped one of the contact slips off of the flyer and held it up. "Don't tell Bobby?"
"Your secret journey of self-improvement will be between us. But you should sign up for Angela's session -- she's the only undergrad running one, so her sign-ups are looking meager. Her professors recognize her for her amazing-ness, but these random students don't know the depth of her wisdom."
Max considered it briefly. His best friend's girlfriend would be privy to his innermost thoughts and feelings and could, if she wanted, relay it to PJ. But then again, Angela wasn't that kind of person, and if anything, he had to worry about PJ telling her too much information.
"Deal. I'll sign up for Angela's sessions, and we keep this as quiet as we can."