Hey guys! I'm back after a long stay-away. These one-shots are based on dreams, the most natural story-tellers.

"You're Not a Bad Student"

Butters, late junior year

When he parked his car, Butters was surprised to see distant figures clumped around a barbecue over by the jungle gym. Come to think of it, the parking lot was fuller than it ought to be on the Saturday before finals and summer vacation. But Butters was too shy to go investigate, and anyway he was almost late for a sorely-needed appointment. He walked straight to the Math room.

"Hey Ms. Calco," he said, easing the door open.

Ms. Calco looked up quickly from behind her big desk. All her movements were quick and precise, like a little bird's. Butters had a warm spot in his heart for her. "Hey! Butters," she said, looking back down at her papers. "Pull up a seat."

Ms. Calco's room had always been full of her personal belongings: a worn-thin Oriental rug on the floor, stuffed animals on the cupboards, plants in colorful pots. She'd often brought in flowers, too, to lively up the monochrome-gray room-even though she didn't make much money. It always delighted her if Butters snuck in before class with some more flowers to supplement hers. He didn't think he did it for her reaction, but then he never would have done it for any other class.

Despite all that, they had never learned much about each other. And it wasn't until now, seeing everything packed up into cardboard boxes, the room barren and gray again, that Butters felt a twinge of sadness about her moving to Michigan next month. (His mom said she was going to teach in a private school there.)

Butters pulled up a seat as she cleared space on the gray desk.

"Did you notice the barbecue outside?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. Some of the faculty put together a going-away party for me and Helga. Stern," she added. (Ms. Stern taught History. Butters had never heard her called Helga before; her last name was too apt and her presence too commanding for that.)

"Oh! Shouldn't you be there?"

"No, it's all right. We're all busy; that's why we had it here. Besides, it was a surprise party, so we didn't have time to cancel our meetings. Oh, it was so much fun. Charlie Oelher and Principal Andrews came bursting in here and... dragged me out to the playground..." She waved her arms like Godzilla terrorizing Tokyo. "They had sombreros on." She laughed. "And Helga just burst out laughing. I don't know if I've ever seen her laugh!"

Butters grinned. He liked the way her voice cracked sometimes. One pause later, he wondered why he hadn't laughed too.

She gave a short sigh, then drew herself up in that precise way and said, "Anyway, what's bothering you? What would you like to review first?"

"I won't take too much of your time."

They went over his notes. Butters meant to be considerate, but as they reviewed he forgot about her party. She seemed to as well. (After about a half hour, he was telling her about an uncle he'd always thought was a beer-loving redneck, who moved to Michigan and subsequently turned out to be a really nice guy. He joked that it was thanks to getting out of the South. "And you're not even a good old boy!" he said. "Think of... The horizons are limitless for you!" She laughed.)

Then Mr. Coutts popped his head in the room and declared, "Margot? Margot, I'm headed out." They talked for a minute and he gave her his grim salute. He nodded goodbye to Butters ("Stotch.") and stepped out.

"Your party," Butters said. "I'm so sorry."

"That's fine, Butters," Ms. Calco said. "I always enjoy talking to a good student."

Butters was manifestly a bad student. He was a junior in a class for sophomores. Earlier that year, when she'd told Butters he was failing, he'd surprised himself by feeling nothing at all.

"Well. Thanks. Next time I meet a good student, I'll tell him you said that." He picked up his books.

"Oh, pff," she said, lifting her arms up off the desk and dropping them. "Yeah, right. Who got that impossible question before everyone else?"

"That was a fluke," Butters said. "I mean it. It really was."

"I believe you mean that," she said. "But it wasn't. Aaron McAllister asked if anybody ever got that question, and I said, 'Two people. If they want you to know who they are, they'll speak up.' Miss-Violet-to-You raises her hand and says, 'Ahem,'"-Ms. Calco did a little mousy Violet voice-"and everybody cries, 'What did you get?! How did you get that?!'" The Godzilla arms made a repeat appearance. Butters couldn't help but smile. "It was a hard question! That's why I left it up on the board! And by the way, what did you do while Violet got all that praise? You just sat there." Her tone of voice said, This won't do.

"No, you're not a bad student, Butters," she continued. "You really want to be, and you can be. But you got that question. You showed you cared about the class, when you brought in flowers. And most importantly, you came in here today for a review, and you talked to your teacher like a human being. Grades or not, you're no bad student. Just wait till something grabs your attention. Then your horizons will be limitless."

Butters watched her pack her briefcase, and they left together.

The night before the final, Butters had a weird dream. It was some dark place. He was vaguely certain it was Margot on camera, only he ever really saw her hands and mouth. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and, very deliberately, smoked each one of the twelve left in the pack, letting the smoke fill her lungs and breathing out slowly. The weird thing was, Butters felt as if he were doing it himself. Really. He was sure that this was no dream and he must have become Margot or something because he was definitely smoking this pack. His chest felt warmer and he shook a little from relief. Twelve cigarettes in the dream left him feeling like one in real life. Then he started moaning. It was weird. He was really fucking satisfied with these cigarettes. It was warm, actual, legitimate pleasure. Margot smiled.

When Butters woke up on the day of the final, he thought, "Shit, they're gonna find my cigarettes." He fumbled around in the sheets, looking for the pack, thinking of places to hide it, but there was nothing there. Then he realized it was just a dream, and Ms. Calco was just his teacher.

That was probably the saddest thing about Ms. Calco moving to Michigan.

Hope you liked it. I'm sorry to anyone I left hanging on the previous Small Moments story. There was a lot of strange stuff that needed taming. But I'm back and better than ever/happier than ever to be back, baby. If you drop me a review, I'll appreciate it and try to respond. Thanks for reading!

Oh, also. P.S. Smoking is very bad for you. I don't do it, and I don't recommend anyone start.