You’ve finally done it. You finally crossed the line and your parents shoved you off to a correctional camp to fix you. No more Pouge boys, no more skipping school, no more crazy treasures hunts, and no more disappearing.

You were literally dragged from your home by Kitty Hawk security as your parents watched. It broke them to do this— but you didn’t care. They still did it.

Now you were In an office as a lady was explaining crap to you. “The good thing is, we have a name for your condition.” She explained.

You internally scoff because what? You didn’t have a condition, you were just living life! “..great.” You retort sarcastically.

She went on, “ODD. Oppositional defiant disorder. Consistent opposition to authority.” She explained.

“Did you just make that up?” You huff “sounds like bullshit.”

She nodded and went on. “As I was saying,” she pointed to you, talking about what you just said. “consistent opposition. fortunately it’s very treatable, with medication.”

“I’m not taking medication.” You immediately cut in.

“See, that right there, that reaction.” She points again “that just confirmed my diagnosis.” She said, shuffling papers and leaning back. God, this was going to be awful.