Her eyes narrowed at Travis's comment, and she leaned toward him as the counselor walked in while lowering her voice. "If I'm the weird one, then what the hell are you doing here, covered in bruises?" Hjordis leaned back into her chair. The boy, Travis, was covered in them - many faded, but a few fresh. He didn't appear the type to get into fights, but no one seemed to be what they appeared to be. She had been, for the most part, ignoring the rest of the group until introductions and instead been playing with her hair or pretending that she had anyone to actually text. This group was certainly varied. The spread of problems was rather predictable, though. There was the narcotics addict, a schizophrenic girl, the pregnant teenager, insomniac delinquent, ex-cancer patient, the boy whose family decided that gay was a problem, and the clinically depressed rich boy, and they hadn't even gone through everyone yet. She could practically see the bullshit pouring out of the counselor's mouth. Hjordis sat up, deciding it was her turn to share in this circus.
"I'm Hjordis, I'm bipolar, and I have to prove that I can function in a mildly social environment before I'm allowed back into the high school." She eventually took a good look around her, glancing at the vaguely familiar faces and matching them to vaguely familiar names. She knew who Adam Baker was, and she barely recognized Travis from the before times when she wasn't home schooled. Not that it mattered, anyways, because no one appeared to recognize her - which was, incidentally, for the better.