Group therapy to Ritchie was a sad excuse for people to let others meddle in their private lives. You did it because you were looking for attention and Ritchie wasn’t looking for anything close to attention. He would rather be in his room, sketching or outside kicking a soccer ball against the wall. Instead he was in a stuffy room with nine other guys and a woman who was way too pretty to be leading group therapy sessions. It started out the way Ritchie assumed it would. Going around the circle and saying your name. More like stating your name for the record. Ritchie thought. Everyone seemed withdrawn and upset about being forced to be there, uncannily resembling Ritchie. The leader’s name was Maria, like the lead in West Side Story. You’re such a fag, West Side Story can NOT be your favorite movie. You must be gay. The teacher’s kinda hot. She’s not a teacher… maybe she’s not off-limits. I can’t be gay. I just need a new favorite movie…