You are send to a ranch for troubled teens. You sighed and stepped out of the car, when you turn around to wave your parents goodbye they drive off. You sling your bag over your shoulder and walk towards the entrance.

You open the gate to see nine-teen kids lined up with an forty-looking cowboy walking past. "You're late." He says and you nod, you walk towards the boys and girls and stand next in line. When the man starts talking you can't get your eyes off a guy sitting in the back. "This is my son, Mack. He's nineteen and he'll be checking the rooms in the morning."