"Caesar... Caesar, Caesar, Caesar... I'm sure I can make this quicker." Jennifer flips through a few pages of her textbook, then says, "Okay, here's the basics. Take notes if you want. 100 B.C. he was born, in 45 he was declared dictator for life, and in 44 he was assassinated. That'll be on the test. Everybody got that?" The class is silent, until a single hand goes up. "Ms. Cantrell?" Upon seeing who it is, Jennifer's left eye narrows slightly. "Yes, Jessica?" "I don't appreciate this lackluster presentation of the material. Not all of are here just to goof off." "I have to agree," the girl next to her says. "This is not the caliber of instruction that I'm accustomed to." Jennifer watches the two girls silently for a moment. "You're saying you don't approve of my teaching method?" Jessica crosses her arms. "No, ma'am." "Well the way I see it," Jennifer says, "it's all in the textbook – if anyone really wants to know more, I'm sure they can read it themselves. But perhaps you'd like to come up here and show me how it's supposed to be done? Or you, Lindsey?" Jessica smiles. "Okay." Regretting the offer immediately, Jennifer watches Jessica walk to the front of the class, then passes her the textbook. Jessica clears her throat, and begins to read. "The Roman leader Gaius Julius Caesar was born in..." She trails off, her glance pulled toward the window. "Y'know kids," she says, "it's an awfully nice day outside, and I really don't feel like teaching you." She closes the book with a smile. "Class dismissed!" The students break into a light laughter, and Jennifer feels a sudden rage swell within her. She takes Jessica by the arm and pulls her to the door, causing the textbook to fall to the floor. They walk into the hallway and Jennifer closes the classroom door, her gaze bearing down on Jessica. "What was that all about? Did you think that was funny?" "That was funny," Jessica answers, looking Jennifer directly in the eyes. "Are you not familiar with the concept of the teacher being shown a certain amount of respect by her students?" "I think you have to earn that respect." "And do you think you've earned the right to ridicule me in front of my class?" "I think you do that just fine by yourself. And it certainly doesn't help that you dress like such a fucking slut all the time." Jessica feels a slight drop in her stomach; she knows she's gone too far. But instead of getting angry, Jennifer actually stands straighter and looks down on her with a smirk. "Is that what this is all about?" Jessica doesn't answer, so Jennifer leans closer and says, "Are you upset that I can fill this dress better than you? Or maybe that your boyfriend always looks at me when I walk by? Or that when he's fucking you," she whispers, "he's really just thinking about me?" "Shut up! Jesus christ, you can't fucking talk like that! You're a teacher!" Jennifer's smirk remains. "Would you like me to give you a few minutes to compose yourself before you go back to class?" "Fuck you!" Jessica turns and storms down the hallway, around a corner and out of sight. Jennifer grins to herself for a moment, then walks back into the classroom. "Okay," she says, picking her textbook up off the floor. "We'll continue from where we left off, unless anyone else has some kind of problem." She looks around the room, but no one makes a sound. Smiling to herself, she opens the book and continues the lesson. Elizabeth pays for a bag of chips and glances around the cafeteria, sighing lightly. She notices three girls sitting at a table chatting to each other: a blonde, a redhead and a brunette. None of them appear to be eating. She shrugs and walks to the table. "Hey," she says, pulling out a chair to sit with them. "Well, look who it is!" says the redhead, Lindsey. "Elizabeth!" says Jessica, the blonde. "Fancy meeting you here." "Okay," Elizabeth says, "You don't hafta be sarcastic." "Well, you did pretty much fall off the planet as soon as your bitch rolled into town," Jessica tells her. Hillary, the brunette, says, "She's got you there." "Hey, I was here," Elizabeth answers, opening her bag of chips. "Just not with you fucks." "So where's loverboy today?" Hillary asks. "I don't know. He didn't come to school today." Elizabeth glances silently around the cafeteria one more time, then says, "So, what were you guys talking about?" Lindsey's eyes narrow. "Jennifer fucking Cantrell." Jessica's teeth actually grind slightly as she says, "I can't tell you how much I fucking hate that bitch." Elizabeth gives them a questioning look as she eats some chips. "Is she really that bad?" "Fuck, yes!" Jessica slams her hand on the table. "She's the worst teacher ever! She doesn't care about her job at all." "So? Since when did you become academia-girl?" "It's the principle of the thing! That whore has simply got to go." "And the way all the boys stare at her all the time," Lindsey adds. "It's pathetic." "Not Evan," Hillary says. "That's because Evan's a faggot," Jessica tells her. Hillary frowns. "He is not." "Evan?" Elizabeth asks. "Who the hell's that?" "This new kid Hil's all wet over," Lindsey says. "He kinda creeps me out." "Well, Cantrell may have everyone's attention, but at least she doesn't act on it," Hillary says. "From what I've heard from the guys, she's a classic ice-queen." Elizabeth raises an eyebrow. "Really? Geez, it must just be Liam, then." They all turn to look at her. "What must just be Liam?" Jessica asks. "For some reason the two of them are like best friends. It's amazing that they haven't fucked yet." "How do you know they haven't?" Lindsey asks. "Trust me, they haven't. They sit around undressing each other with their eyes all day, though." Jessica grins. "So, are you ready to join the Cantrell Revenge Squad, then?" Smirking, Elizabeth answers, "No, I don't think so. She doesn't bother me that much. She's actually kinda funny sometimes. Maybe it's just that I don't have any classes with her." Lindsey sighs. "I don't know... Between the short skirts and the spontaneous class cancellations, everyone seems to love her." "How organized is this vendetta?" Elizabeth asks. "Any witch burnings scheduled for the near future?" "Nah." Jessica takes a chip from Elizabeth's bag. "I might give her a punch in the mouth, though." Elizabeth smiles. "Well, make sure it's a good one." Lining up her knuckles, Jessica says, "Oh, it will be..." Steven glances into Ms. Cantrell's classroom. She sits at her desk, quietly grading papers. He knocks on the door. "Ms. Cantrell?" Jennifer? She turns to him and says, "Yes?" "I was wondering if I could talk to you?" You're beautiful. "Sure, what's up?" "I have some questions about the things we went over yesterday in class." I think I'm in love with you. She puts a hand against her forehead. "Is it really important? I'm not feeling too well today." I've seen the things you do with Liam. I know that you let him skip class, that he doesn't have to do assignments, that you kiss him and touch him and god knows what else. I know things that could get you in a lot of trouble. And all I want in exchange is that you give some of that attention to me instead... "No, it's not that important. I'm sure I can figure it out on my own." She smiles at him. "Good. Thank you, Steven." "Bye, then." He turns to go. Bye Hillary watches the new boy, Evan, from across the room. They're both waiting for class to start, but it's early enough that the room is still mostly empty. He's writing something in a notebook, and her eyes focus on the lines of his face. His nose, his jaw, his cheekbones... he's the most beautiful boy she's ever seen. Gathering her courage, she walks over to stand beside him. "Hi," she says. "Evan, right?" He looks up at her with cold blue eyes, expressionless. She feels a chill go down her spine... he's looking at her, right into her eyes... Finally he says, "That's right." "My name's Hillary." She offers her hand, but he merely glances at it, so she pulls it back. "I was wondering if you needed any help catching up with the notes you've missed? Or somebody to show you around the school, maybe? I'd be more than happy to help." "No, that's quite alright." He turns back to his notebook. "But thanks." A small twinge of shame passes through her, but it's counter-balanced by looking down at him for another moment. She goes back to her desk, smiling slightly. Now he knows who she is. Evan sits in quiet thought for another moment, then continues writing. Rocks spinning between the stars In the infinite expanse of space Enormous, unfathomable Completely incomprehensible Impossible But I breathe in And slowly out And level my gaze Across Inside I stand against the sky The earth attached to my feet Equal weights Counter balancing one another Spinning together through space Until I grow too large Cutting through existence Extending myself Across all reality And eventually, I leave it behind The earth sails away behind me Disappearing into the void I continue to grow Hardly even Realizing He sits back and peruses the page, then puts the notebook down and turns to the window. A boy walking past catches his eye, and he smiles very slightly to himself. The boy's face is sullen, but pulled into a cold stare that focuses on the ground as he walks. Evan watches him until he's out of sight. Then, keeping the boy's image in mind, he takes his pen and re-opens his notebook. Elizabeth sits on one of the large, flat rocks that line the walkway at the back of the school. She's reading a book, but it's almost time for class, so she flips it closed and drops it in her bookbag. As she closes her bag she notices Liam a slight distance away, walking toward her, his hands in his pockets. A feeling of uneasiness comes over her as she watches him approach, culminating with him sitting down on the rock beside her. But he doesn't say anything, looking up at the trees on the other side of the parking lot. She watches him, a little surprised. After yesterday's fiasco she expected him to be all over her... or trying to touch her... or looking at her, at least. "Hey," she says. "What's up?" "Nothing." He exhales lightly. "Hey, are you going to class?" "I was going to, but I can skip." They sit together in silence, Liam still watching the trees. The bell rings, but they both stay where they are. "How do you get along with your mother so well?" he finally asks her. "I don't know. Because she stays out of my business, I guess. Why?" His shoulders drop slightly. "My parents are driving me nuts. They're just so... tiresome." He turns to her. "You know, as a kid, I actually felt bad about the gifts they'd give me? Not about things I'd asked for, but they'd always buy me stuff I didn't want, and I couldn't bring myself to play with any of it for more than a little while. Then I'd just leave it lying around, and I felt really guilty about it. I know it sounds dumb, but there was this whole aura hanging around our house. No one was really supposed to have fun. No one said it directly, but it was clear that life was supposed to be a basically irksome thing, and I wasn't allowed to act like it wasn't. "And what made it worse was that it wasn't deliberate," he continues, looking back across the parking lot. "My parents aren't bad people, they just kind of fell into it. And it's still like that. They just aren't happy. They have good jobs, they've got money, we're not rich but it's certainly enough. They've got everything they need, but they don't have the drive to try to find something more, some addition meaning to their lives. I can come downstairs in the morning feeling really good, just feeling happy to be alive, and it gets wrecked when I'm with them." "But it seems to simple," he says, using his hands to illustrate. "So close. They could have it, if they just looked a little harder. I wish there was some way I could show them; I can't stand watching their lives get wasted. But I can't make them see it. It's beyond my means." She watches his face in silence, her own face showing a touch of concern. Then she smiles and says, "Hey." "What?" he asks, still staring into the distance. She leans over and kisses him on the cheek. He looks at her smiling face, and after a few seconds breaks into a smile of his own. "I'm gonna move in with you, alright?" he says, watching her. "Okay. My mom won't mind 'cause she won't even know." For a moment they're both silent, watching each other's eyes. Eventually, she asks, "Have you had lunch yet?" "Nope." "Let's get something then," she says, pulling him to his feet. "My treat." Elizabeth takes a seat on a park bench, putting a small pizza box between Liam and herself. "Ah, yeah," she says, taking a slice. "It's amazing how something so simple can make me so happy." He watches her eat, smiling. "You know, this is like that movie Reality Bites. You and me and five bucks, that's all we really need." "The pizza was seven." "Whatever," he says, taking a piece. She glances at him with a small smirk. "So you liked that movie?" "Sure. Why not? It had Winona Ryder in it." "So?" "So I like Winona Ryder." He takes a bite of pizza and says, "It was weird – I'd seen her in movies for years, and one day I just realized that I was in love with her. It was the damnedest thing." "Not that you know anything about her." "Not that I know anything about her," he admits. They eat quietly and she moves the pizza box from between them, putting it on the end of the bench. He looks out at the park. "About yesterday..." he says, and she turns to watch him attentively. He turns to her and says, "I don't want to push you into anything you don't want to do. I'm sure you've got your reasons for holding off." He looks back out to the park and adds, "Not that I understand them in the least." She smiles at him. "Why'd you decide this?" "Well, there are more important things in the world than getting your dick sucked. Not many, but some." Her smile widens as she leans a little closer and quietly says, "I could maybe see you getting your dick sucked..." His spine goes rigid and his eyes widen very slightly, and she busts out laughing. "Oh, man! You should see your face!" She holds her stomach as she laughs even harder. He grins and spends a moment regaining his composure. "What can I say?" he tells her when she finally quiets down. "It's an intensely appealing prospect." She drapes her hands across his shoulder and rests her chin on top of them. "You've been a pretty good boy lately; maybe when your birthday rolls around I'll give you a present." "Hey, don't act like you're giving out alms," he says, peering at her. "Just think of all the fun we could be having." Her smile widens. "Oh we could, could we?" "Yeah, me and Jennifer. I don't even need you." She pulls away from him, and he chuckles. "You're such a predictable girl." He leans closer to her. "Are you feeling threatened?" She frowns slightly as she looks at him. "So why haven't you slept with her?" she asks. "It's pretty obvious that she wants to." He leans back. "You really think so?" "Well, yeah. It's not like she's getting all buddy-buddy with anyone else." Her expression hardens as she quietly adds, "It's just you." He smirks. "You don't think much of me, do you?" She looks at him. "I mean, do you really think I'd mess up what we have just to nail one chick?" He grins as he adds, "One fantastically incredible super-hot chick?" "Come on. If you were alone with her and there was absolutely no chance of me ever finding out, are you saying you wouldn't fuck her?" He considers for a moment, then says, "Okay, maybe I would. But it doesn't matter. She's not into it." A little surprised, she says, "You checked?" "Yeah, I checked. She's a hot bitch! I'd be a legend at this school." He glances off into space, repeating, "A legend..." She grins. "Back to reality, son. Seriously, I think you underestimate yourself. You could have that slut anytime." He slides closer to her and says, "You know there's only one slut I really want." He rests his head on her shoulder and she smiles. After awhile she says, "How significant do you think your life is?" "You know, you say the weirdest things," he says. "Really – I was thinking back to all the times in my life that I've been walking by myself, singing a song, or looking at myself in my bathroom mirror and wishing that it could somehow be captured, so that people could see me, so they could watch these moments in my life where I just felt incredibly good. I wish there was a way to record everything I do, every detail, so that after I die people could look back through it, they could study my life and learn things that might make their own lives easier. And then people say I'm egotistical as though that's a bad thing, but it's really just that they don't have days like that. They aren't proud of their lives, they aren't in love with every second of their existence, even the bad parts of it. I love it all more than anything, the idea of dying is the scariest thing imaginable to me – I wish there could be some record, the more detailed the better, some lasting impact after I'm gone. I want to be remembered, but not just as a name and a date or a name and an invention. I want to be studied, appreciated. Because I know I'm living my life differently from all of those people back at school, all of the people in this town, probably almost everyone on this planet, and I don't want all the ideas I've had, all the thinking I've done to just disappear. I want it to stay forever." He's quiet for several moments, then says, "I don't think I'd want anyone to have full access to every thought I've ever had, but I know what you mean about those certain days that you don't want to disappear. I remember when I first read Atlas Shrugged, it was just incredible, like a whole new world opening up, and I really wish I could feel it that strongly again. I'd never heard of Ayn Rand, and suddenly she was bringing things together for me, taking all the things I'd heard in my life and finally getting them to make some sense. And it wasn't even a very deep thing, when you get right down to it. I read her books almost like action novels. I definitely picked up on the philosophy, but at the base it was much simpler, just people who had confidence in themselves, who lived their lives with integrity and who didn't sacrifice their goals for the sake of what other people told them was right. I've heard a million tiresome opinions from a million tiresome people about Ayn Rand, and they're all missing the point. You don't have to agree with every word she ever said, but you do have to appreciate the vision of human beings she had, the enormous respect she held for us. I'd never genuinely run into that before in my entire life. Not once. And it completely floored me. "I went out looking for her other books, and I found them at used bookstores and library book sales, for fifty cents apiece sometimes, and all I could think was how amazing it was that these ideas, these words that had changed my entire life were just sitting there next to a bunch of garbage, and I could buy them with pocket change. It seemed completely insane, but I was never so glad – the whole world just seemed so amazing, I'd never been that happy to be alive. Those are the days I wish I could capture. That would be my ultimate gift to humankind, to be able to help someone else feel that way, and I never want to lose that. "But I won't," he continues, leaning back against the bench. "After I read Atlas I knew that if someone could do that once, if someone could portray a vision of life that powerful, it could be done again. Whenever I felt down about things I just had to think back to her characters, and then everything felt alright. Her words are here, and mine will be with them eventually, and other people will all keep the spark alive and someday the world will really be the way we want it to be. And in the meantime they can come up with philosophies and labels to try to bottle that feeling, those moments when you know exactly how you want your life to be, but that'll never work. You can't expect anyone but the most dogmatic to conform to a party line, but if you can affect someone individually, really hit them deep inside and show them that the world they've had to put up with all this time isn't the way things have to be, you've got them forever. If you can instill in someone a real respect for human beings, show them the power that comes with the sanctity of the individual, they'll never give it up. And that's how these ideas are always going to last. Maybe not through me, but they'll get passed along, they'll grow and spread until eventually nothing will be able to stop them. I know it because I know how strong they are inside me, that they'll never ultimately leave me, no matter what happens in my life. All they have to do is touch other people in that same way, and as long as they're alive in someone they'll never die. Maybe Ayn Rand isn't the ticket for most people, but something will be. Individuality as a legitimate way of life is an idea with a really short history, next to all the other doctrines of the world, but it's the strongest. It's the only one that ever made sense, the only one that could ever reach me... So it's just a matter of time." When he looks over he's surprised to see a slight tear in her eye, and she says, "See, I knew you were smart. When you can stop talking about your dick for two seconds." He smiles at her, and for awhile they just stare at each other. Finally he breaks the silence by saying, "Hey, pass me over that pizza." Hillary watches Evan through the corner of her eye; he isn't paying any attention to class and rarely looks up from his notebook. When the bell finally rings she watches him put his books away and slide gracefully from his desk. She waits a moment, then walks out the door just before him, slowing down so that they're side by side in the hallway. She looks over at him. "Hey." He glances at her silently. "So are you getting around the school okay? I can still show you around, if you want." She feels a little stupid saying it, but it's all she can think of. He frowns, but after a moment his expression lightens. "Actually," he says, "There's someone I was wondering about. Maybe you can tell me if you know them." She smiles, delighted. "Sure! Who is it?" He squints at her slightly. "Oh, right... Well, maybe you can point them out to me," she says as they continue walking down the hall. Steven stands with a small group of students who are talking to Ms. Cantrell between classes. He doesn't have any specific questions to ask, but just likes standing near her. He likes looking at her, he likes the smell of her. He completely forgets about her the second Elizabeth walks through the door. Walking immediately to her side, he catches a small notion of his own tiresomeness as her eyes move immediately away from him. Liam on the other hand doesn't even notice him, moving directly into the group of students talking with Ms. Cantrell. Glancing away from Elizabeth, Steven says, "Hi." "Hello," Elizabeth replies, looking at him. Feeling a little exasperated, he asks, "If I didn't talk to you, would you even speak to me at all?" "Well, really, I can't see why I would," she says. "Nothing personal, there are piles of people here I'd never talk to. I mean, you'd have to stick your head out of the crowd somehow. It only stands to reason, doesn't it? What makes you any different from anybody else?" They stand watching each other, but he doesn't answer. Evan puts a hand on Hillary's arm as they walk by a classroom, stopping her. "There," he says, pointing inside. "The boy on the right." "Liam?" she asks. "I don't really know much about him. He's the boyfriend of that girl, Elizabeth," she says, pointing her out. "What's his last name?" "I don't know." She thinks for a moment, then says, "Scott, I think." Evan keeps his eyes focused on Liam. "Tell me something about him." She looks at him questioningly. "Like what?" "Anything." "Well, he's on the badminton team." Evan nods and walks into the room, leaving her behind. He immediately takes a place next to Liam, and Hillary frowns to herself. She watches him for a moment, considering going in after him, but decides to let it go and walks to her next class, feeling slightly annoyed. Elizabeth glances at the group of people talking to Jennifer, then nods in the other direction. She tells Steven, "Come on." He follows her to the back of the class, where she pulls out a chair and sits down. She gestures for him to sit next to her, and he does. She leans forward slightly. "How can I put this..." she says, looking at him. "I've really got nothing against you, you seem like a good guy, but when you hang around me without anything to say, with no... purpose to it, it feels like you're waiting for me to lead things. Like you're rudderless, and you want me to give you some direction. But I can't give you direction, I hardly even know you. You have to have your own path, your own vision of where you're life is going. It might sound a little extreme to put it that way, but it's really obvious when someone doesn't have it. If you did we could meet up and exchange notes and get along great, two people on separate journeys who are taking a rest, just relaxing before we go out to fight the world again. But the way things are... it feels like you're trying to hitch your wagon to me, you know? Like I've got nothing to look forward to by knowing you, no surprises, just a... second hand life that's only going to echo behind me. I'm not trying to be mean, I just think it's better to lay these things out straight. I'm not saying I know everything there is to know about you, but that's how things seem from my perspective." His face is still fairly blank, so she smiles at him and says, "Hey, at the very least this has got to give you some insight into how we can be better friends." He grins weakly. "It's a pretty rough situation, though, being at the bottom. You wouldn't really care if you never saw me again. But all I think about," he says, glancing at her, "Is the next time I'm going to see you." She winces very slightly, but tries not to let it show. "Trust me, it's awkward from my side too. But what is it about me that you like more than other girls? I'm not involved in any school stuff, I'm not half-naked like Cantrell." She leans closer to him, talking more lowly. "But I have the confidence, right? You see something you don't have enough of, and you want it. But you can't get it through me, it won't just rub off. You have to get it yourself. And I know it helps to have an example, to have some kind of idea of what you're trying to achieve, and I know that I'm important to you for that, but you have to be careful. If things stay the way they are you'll just drive me away, but I don't necessarily want that to happen. If I can help you, I'll do it, but I don't want to be the one doing all the work. You have to be the center of your own growth, it doesn't work if one of us is a baby-sitter. If there's a chance we can sit like this a few months from now as equals, as real friends, not just one person doting after another, I'm more than willing to help you. But you can't place all the burden on me." She leans even closer, almost whispering in his ear, wanting to be certain that no one else can hear. "The truth is, this image of confidence I have, it's not always real. I don't stay home so much just because I hate school, I stay home because I can't take it. Some days it just leaves me and I don't feel like I can handle anything. So some days I put up a facade, and some days I can't even manage that. So I stay home. But most days," she says, pulling her head back and looking him in the eyes, "It is real. And trust me, it's the best thing you'll ever feel." She watches him silently as he remains still, looking directly back at her. Evan watches the group conversing with Ms. Cantrell with a certain amount of disdain. He waits for a pause, then touches Liam on the arm. A smile alights his face as Liam turns to him. "Hi! You're Liam, right?" "Right." "Evan," he says, holding out his hand. Liam shakes it as Evan says, "I heard you're captain of the badminton team." "Well, not captain officially," Liam says with a grin, "But I can kick all their asses when I have to." "I was wondering if there might be any openings for a new member?" "Sure, we're down to four people as it is. Everybody else quit. Badminton gets very little respect, I'm afraid." "I'm actually fairly unskilled," Evan says, "But I'm still interested in joining. Do you think you could show me the basics?" "Sure, why not?" Liam says. "Welcome to the team." And Evan beams. "It's not like you've gotta find a cure for cancer," Elizabeth says, sitting back in her chair while Steven listens intently. "It really doesn't take much to make yourself stand out. I mean, look at the competition." She gestures vaguely at the other end of the room. "What do these people do? They don't do anything. If you write a story, or learn how to draw, or how to walk on your hands, anything, you're suddenly on top. This culture is so lazy, starting a band is enough to make you a god. People can't even imagine doing it themselves. Almost any goal you undertake is impressive, as long as you do it well, or at least try to do it well. You have to be dedicated to something. People in this society aren't dedicated to anything. You have to break free from that. You have to do something with your life, you need an identity beyond just being a passive piece of the scenery. Hey, what time is it?" Steven glances at his watch. "Two minutes until class starts." "I'd better get going." She stands up and smiles. "Doesn't it seem like we're better friends already? A little honest communication is all it takes." "Yeah, I love it when people pinpoint just exactly how I suck." He smirks to himself and says, "So I'll see you tomorrow." "You bet. Later." She nods to him before walking to the front of the class. "Elizabeth," Liam says, turning to her, "Meet Evan, my newest badminton recruit!" "Charmed," she answers with a smirk. Evan feels a scowl coming on as soon as he sees her, but fights it off. "Hello Liz." "Elizabeth, please," she says. "I don't really care for the contractions of my name." "Not even Lizard?" Liam asks. "Well, except that one." Liam grins. "So, we'd better get rolling. Just swing by the gym tomorrow after school," he says to Evan, "and we'll set you up." "Great," Evan says. "See you later." As they leave the room his face returns fairly quickly to a steady neutral, and he walks casually to his next class. "What do you think of this?" Lindsey asks, holding a shirt up against her chest. "Yeah, great," Jessica says, but she's not really paying attention. Instead she's focused on a rack of extremely short skirts, trying to decide which color would look best on her.