"Ow!" He brushes his hair and looks up, noticing her in the tree. "What are you doing?"

"Why did you say 'ow'? Did that actually hurt?"

"Yeah, a little."

She lies forward on her stomach, along the length of the branch. "Did you watch it?"

"Of course; you practically tied me to the chair and pressed play before you left yesterday."

She smiles. "So, what did you think?"

"It was good."

She frowns a little and looks away.

"Oh, come on!" he says, a hand on his hip. "Was that not good enough? Would you prefer I bust out a soliloquy on the greatness of The Shawshank Redemption?"

She looks back at him and smiles again. "Yeah. Would you?"

"Heh." He jumps up and grabs a low branch, trying to get his legs up around it before dropping back to the ground. "How the hell did you get up there?"

"I climbed."

"Well, get down. We've gotta get to school."

"Pfft. Don't be retarded." She turns over to lay on her back. "So tell me something you didn't like about it."

He frowns for a moment, but realizes that he has no other way to get her down. "Okay..." He searches his mind quickly. "Hope. They used the word hope too much."

She thinks for a moment. "Maybe, yeah, but it's not hope the way the rest of these jerks mean it," she says, gesturing vaguely at the world around them. "For Andy it was about the actions he took, the things he did – the only reason hope worked into it at all was because he was in prison. He wasn't just crossing his fingers, or praying to god, or hoping for some kind of miracle, but not everything was under his control." She pauses for a moment. "It's kind of like the way I look at the human race; I don't know if we'll ever achieve the things we're capable of, and there's only so much I can do toward helping people recognize their potential, but I hope we'll make it. I won't even be alive to see it, but I hope, because if it ever came together it would be the most beautiful thing imaginable."

He rubs his eyes. "It's really a little early for getting philosophical. Come on, we're gonna be late."

"Since when are we going to school?"

"Since I've got a report to submit today that's worth 30%."

"Wow, and without that you might not get to be a doctor someday." She swings down onto a lower branch and drops to the ground. They start to walk across the park.

"How come you never have any homework?" he asks.

"I've got a special agreement with my teachers. I don't do the work and I get shitty marks. I even had my mom write a note excusing me from having to listen to their complaining about it."

"Your mom doesn't care that you're doing bad?"

"Nope. Yours does?"

He shrugs. "Almost. To say that she cared would be putting it too strongly."

"Oh, poor Liam," she says. "Your parents don't understand you."

"It's worse than that; they understand me fine. They just hate me."

She grins. "Well, at least you haven't resorted to scholastic rebellion. Your guidance counsellor would be proud."

Sitting in her homeroom class, Elizabeth reads quietly. The teacher walks up and drops a slip of paper on her desk. She looks at it for a moment before saying, "What's this?"

"An appointment for you at the guidance office."

"What? Who made that?"

The teacher shrugs and moves on to his next duty.

Examining the note more carefully, she deducts that she'll have to miss first period to make the appointment. Her brow furrows as she places the note in her back pocket and returns to her book.

When the bell rings she begins walking the unfamiliar route to the guidance office. She knocks lightly on the office door and steps in, feeling a little uncomfortable. A secretary looks up from some paperwork and says, "'Yes?"

"I'm Elizabeth Patton. Apparently I have an appointment?"

"Just a moment... Yes, here you are. Mr. Pentland will be a few minutes; you can sit down while you wait, if you'd like." She motions to a set of chairs and a magazine table in the corner.

"Thanks." She sets her bookbag down and sits in the chair closest to the door, crossing her legs as she peers down at the jumble of magazines before her. She reaches down and carefully dislodges a fashion magazine from the stack, waiting to see if the rest of the shiny heap will maintain its grip on the table. She leans back after a moment, satisfied that everything is secure, and begins reading.

She doesn't pay particular attention to any of the articles, focusing mainly on the pictures, frowning like a person trying to gain some value by staring into a black hole. After a few minutes she remembers the novel in her bookbag, but just as she leans over to get it a door across the room opens. A man pokes his head out and says, "Elizabeth?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Mr.Pentland. I'm ready to see you now."

She picks up her bookbag and tosses the magazine haphazardly on the table, knocking a few others to the floor. Mr. Pentland steps back to admit her entry, then closes the door behind them. His office is small, far smaller than the waiting room, consisting only of a desk, two chairs and walls plastered with various posters and slogans, which Elizabeth's brief glance registers only as clutter.

She sits down. "Are you the only guidance counsellor here? Your office seems awfully small."

He chuckles. "No, there are three of us, each with similarly small offices, I assure you."

"Do you really think this school needs three guidance counsellors?"

"Well, yes," he says frankly as he takes a seat across from her. "Now, I suppose you know why I've called you down here?"

"No. Should I?"

"Certainly. First of all there's the fact that you've never been to see me before, and there are important matters of career planning to discuss."

She looks at him blankly.

"But that's not all. The real reason I called you here is because your grades are slipping. You've been missing more and more days, and even though your mother continually excuses you I don't think it's advisable for you to stay home as often as you do. Also, your attitude in general seems to be changing toward the negative; you're definitely not the same girl you were."

"How would you know? I've never met you."

"Your file says so; your marks have been slipping, your absences have increased, and the comments of your teachers have been growing less and less favorable these last couple of years."

"What comments? What did they say?"

He scans briefly through a thin sheaf of papers. "Unmotivated, uncooperative, works poorly with others, unconcerned with academic failure, too quiet, hardheaded..."

"I don't see anything wrong with that."

"Well, I suppose you wouldn't, but these are nothing like the comments you received in elementary school."

She laughs suddenly, the sound easily filling the small room, until she notices that he's become slightly angry and forces herself to stop. She can't help but retain a smile as she says, "I'm sorry, you were saying...?"

"I was saying that this is a dangerous pattern, and it should be rectified as quickly as possible. It's important that you get a good education – you don't want this to haunt you later in life. A high school diploma is absolutely essential."

"Does it look to you like I'm going to drop out?"

"At your present rate of decline, yes, I think it's possible. And I think that would be a very unfortunate course of action for a girl as obviously intelligent as you."

"How would you know how intelligent I am?"

He glances down at the folder on his desk, and the look of his grin sends a small shiver down her spine.

"There's more to life than what's inside file folders, you know," she says, then offhandedly adds, "Though maybe not for you."

"Now see, that's exactly what I'm talking about: inappropriate comments. I'm only here to help you; there's no reason to resist."

She leans forward slightly. "And what if I were to say that I could help you? What if I told you that I could show you a better way of dealing with your life? What if I told you that I could teach you to take more pride in yourself? What would you say to that?"

"I'd point to my diploma on the wall behind me, as you will see I am doing now, and return the aim of our conversation to you, as you are the one we are discussing here. This has absolutely nothing to do with me."

She sets her elbow on the arm of her chair and rests her head against her fist. Looking away, she says, "Fine."

"Now the issue at hand is your future. You have to be prepared to find a place for yourself when you go out into the world, because no one will be there to help you."

She raises an eyebrow. "You're here to help me, aren't you?"

He smiles broadly. "Yes, of course. But I won't always be here. I have a lot of other children to help as well. It's important for you to understand that your grades in high school can determine the entire remainder of your life. Without sufficient grades certain doors will always be closed."

"Couldn't I take a high school equivalency course at some later point, if it became that desperately important that my grades be better?"

His face takes on a distasteful look. "Well, you could, in theory, but there's no need for that if you can get the correct grades in the first place. And how would you support yourself while taking the course? There aren't many options in this world for an uneducated young woman such as yourself."

"I'm sure I'd get by. In fact, I wouldn't even need the diploma. I don't think the manager at Tim Hortons is going to call the school to make sure I graduated."

"Come on now, that's not a real career. I'm talking about after university, when you get a real job."

"I'm not going to university."

He laughs, but trails off when he sees the seriousness in her face. "Oh no, no, no, that won't do at all. What do you mean you're not going to university?"

"I mean I'm not going. What's wrong with that?"

"Well, I mean, what are you going to do with your life? What are your ambitions?"

"I don't see how that's any business of yours."

"This is my business. I'm your guidance counsellor. You're supposed to tell me."

"Says who?"

"Says... well, what are you to do, then? Go on welfare? Collect unemployment?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then tell me; what exactly are you going to do?"

"I don't know, exactly. I haven't figured it out. I suppose I'll get a small job somewhere, at a grocery store or something, and do that for a while, until I've decided."

"That's not what I'd do."

"Yeah, well you're no me."

"You don't seem to understand. What will you do after? Where will you go? How will you ever advance your station in life?"

She studies him quizzically. "Can't you see any way of making a place for yourself in the world without university?"

"Frankly, no, and I'm glad I got to you when I did. You're obviously a very lost child."

A swell of anger rises in her, settling uncomfortably in her chest. "Why do you assume that you have some authority over my decisions about my own life? Why are you so certain that I can't think for myself?"

"Oh, it's not like that. What I'm here to make you realize is that it's vitally important to be prepared for life. You never know what's going to happen, you can never be sure of how things will turn out, you can only try to be ready for whatever curveballs life throws at you."

"Just batten down the hatches and hold on tight, huh? Hold on for dear life as cruel, cruel reality has its way with you..."

He smiles gently. "Oh, it's not so bad as that. But it's true that things can catch you off guard, and it helps to have a voice of wisdom to help guide you. You never know what could happen."

"Why not? What's stopping me from dealing successfully with my life? Where did all of this chaos come from, this total lack of certainty about things? Just because you decided to eke out a living within a framework that someone else built doesn't mean that I have to do the same. Did you ever think that maybe some people aren't afraid of reality? That some people can work with it and shape it to their own will, instead of spending their lives hiding from it?"

"Young lady, I think you're missing the point. Some day you might gain the confidence you speak of, but right now you're still a child, and before you learn a little more about this world I don't think you're in any position to make these claims. Who's to say that you might not end up jobless, or homeless? It can happen to anyone."

"I'm here to say that it won't. I can look after myself. What good do you think this little seminar on defeat is doing me, anyway?"

"It's to prepare you for the real world. Regardless of what you think, you don't know what's going to happen. Why, you could end up married, with children you can't support who–"

"That's enough!" She bolts to her feet and slings her bookbag over her shoulder. She looks down silently on him for a moment, regaining her composure; he's too shocked to say anything. "I'm not going to listen to this. You're in no position to give me advice about life. This is ridiculous." She turns to go, but adds over her shoulder, "And don't try calling me back here!"

She slams the door and storms through the waiting room, ignoring the surprised look of the secretary. Down the hall, through a doorway, out the exit...

Outside, in the sunlight, she feels her anger begin to seep away. She closes her eyes and looks up at the sky, concentrating on the feeling of warmth on her skin, breathing deeply. After a moment she opens her eyes and walks across the grass of the schoolyard, toward her house.

An idea strikes her, and she turns back to the school. She finds a specific set of windows and peers inside, watching the teacher wrap up the end of his lecture. She waits, staying far enough from the window that no one notices her. After a few minutes he finishes talking, gathers up his things and walks out, the way she has noticed he always does, leaving the class to work silently on their assignments.

She taps lightly on the window next to Liam's desk. A surprised grin lights his face as he leans over and slides the window open.

"Hey!" he says quietly. "What's going on?"

"I just got finished yelling at my guidance counsellor, and I decided to go home."

Someone in the classroom says, "Hey Liam, who is it?"

"It's nobody, get back to work." He turns back to Elizabeth. "So what are you doing outside?"

"I thought I'd come get you. I'm gonna show you my house, okay?"

"I don't know," he says, eyeing the opening between them. "I'm not sure if I can fit through this window."

She smiles. "I'll meet you at the door."

"Okay."

He closes the window and gathers his books, and she watches as he tip-toes out of class, waving away the questions of a few of the other students. She runs around to the front of the school and waits as he creeps down the corridor, looking carefully around each corner and darting past each open classroom. Finally he reaches the end of the hallway and opens the door, smiling at her.

"Why do you sneak like that? Wouldn't you be less conspicuous if you just walked normally?"

"Probably, but I'd rather avoid bumping into anyone in the first place. I mean, how could I explain myself? 'Cheerio old man! Your class was boring me so I decided to leave. Try making it more interesting tomorrow, could you?'"

"Just say what I always say: 'So long, suckers!'"

"You don't say that."

She shrugs, and he grins. They walk away from the school and begin making their way through the adjoining streets.

"So what's the story behind the guidance counsellor?"

She sighs slightly. "I can't believe that guy. He's just a boring, aimless, pointless mess of a person, and he's trying to pull rank over me. Have you ever gone to see him?"

"What's his name?"

"I don't know. It starts with P."

"He's not mine, then. My guy's named Brian."

"Brian what?"

"Beats me. Just Brian. Seemed pretty friendly, but I only met him for a minute."

"So you didn't have a chance to really get in there and argue, huh?"

"Why would I argue? I listened to him for awhile, answered a few questions and went to class. What did you do?"

"I listened for awhile, got a few words in edgewise and then stormed out of his office." She smiles, and a tiny glint of sunlight bounces across her teeth.

He looks up at the sky. "Let me guess. He said something about people being inherently sinful or flawed or tragic and you felt the need to karate kick him in the face."

"Almost," she says, excited. "He almost said that, I mean. It was hidden inside his every word. I could just tell he'd never spent a day in his life when he was really happy about anything, when he felt really proud of his place in life. But what bugged me the most was that I know he'll never make any real attempt to find some answers; he'll just stay the way he is until he dies. I should have karate kicked him, it might have sunk in a little deeper."

"You know, I was being sarcastic. Do you think you'll get in trouble for this?"

"I doubt it. I don't think he'll have the guts to tell anyone; in fact, he'll probably just redouble his effort to save me. He called me a lost child – he said I might get pregnant."

He looks at her quizzically. "Well, I'm pretty sure you can get pregnant."

"Not like that. He wanted to know what would happen if I did get pregnant. What would I do if I had a husband and kids and no money to support them? As though these things just materialize out of thin air, like fate dealing you a bad hand. The idea of taking control of your own actions seemed completely foreign to him. And worst of all was that I got this feeling he was imagining himself as the impregnator..." She shakes suddenly. "Ugh."

Liam looks her over slowly and rubs his chin. "Hmm... pregnant, eh...?"

"Oh, fuck you." She punches him in the arm harder than he had expected, but he manages to stay quiet. Rubbing his arm slightly, he says, "That hurt."

"So? Hit me back." She stops and turns toward him. "I dare you."

He rolls his eyes. "Grow up."

She smacks him in the face.

"Jesus! Fuck off!"

"Ha! What a weakling!"

"Weakling?" He rolls up his sleeves. "I'll show you a weakling..." A wide smile forms on her face as she takes a fighting stance; he watches her for a moment, then slides his hands in his pockets. "Aw, forget it."

She continues to smile at him. "Wow, you sure showed me! What a fighter! Let me see those biceps... you should wear more muscle shirts! They'd really help you show off your radiating maleness."

"Hey, shut up, will you?"

She almost says, "Are you gonna make me?", but manages to hold her tongue. They continue walking, and after a moment he says, "Are you always this physical after arguing with somebody?"

"It's the next natural step. You verbally oppose someone for awhile, but since they're too stupid to realize that you're right, you hafta beat them up. All the history books say so."

"So shouldn't you be duking it out with that guidance counsellor right now?"

"I really should be, but he wouldn't fight back. And then I'd get arrested." Without warning she turns and walks into a nearby house. "Mom, I'm home!"

Liam follows her in, slowly surveying the surroundings. A woman sits on a couch, watching tv. Looking down at her watch she says, "It's 9:30 in the morning... Shouldn't you have been home twenty minutes ago?"

Elizabeth smiles and kisses her on the forehead. "What the hell are you watching?"

"A talk show. Don't worry, I'm not converting. Just... studying." Her glance moves to Liam. "Who's this?"

"Mom, this is Liam. Liam, this is my mom."

"Hello, Mrs. Patton," he says.

"My name's Angela. Pleased to meet you, Liam."

They shake hands, and spend a moment looking quietly at one another.

Elizabeth breaks in, taking him by the arm. "We're going up to my room to have sex, so make sure to knock first." She drags him up the stairs.

Angela turns back to the tv with a smile. "Okay, be good."

It isn't until they're in the room with the door closed that Elizabeth catches the grin on Liam's face. "Don't worry," she says. "I was only joking."

"I know, but the image is already there." He looks around at the room and feels suddenly transfixed.

He looks slowly up at some framed pictures of people he doesn't recognize, then over to her bookshelf, with fewer than a dozen books lined neatly next to each other. A small stereo and a stack of cds stand beside her bed, which is perfectly made. He looks over at a mirror on the wall and sees himself. Then he looks over at her as she opens her large windows, smiling unselfconsciously out into the sky, the wind blowing lightly against her hair, and he knows he's gone. He tries to fight it for a moment, but stops, relaxes, and let's it flow through him...

...he's gone...