Dib was just adding the finishing touches to his office – his favorite paper weight, a shiny lopsided maroon rock, was the last thing he set down on his desk. He was happy to get this fresh start. He has a new job, a new house - starting over far away from his old life. This time it would be better.

He decided to go and get himself a cup of coffee in the administration office. As he walked through the quad he felt hundreds of young eyes watching him – sizing him up. When he had first started working as a counselor with high school students he had been intimidated by them. They were much harder to work with than he had expected when he first started studying psychology. Many of his patients started out so closed off and cynical that they wouldn't tell him anything. Often times they were so wrapped up in their own troubles that they felt they had no one to talk to and were lonely. The first time Dib gains the trust of a new patient is his favorite part of the job. When they finally open up to him and he can see who they really are inside – still just children.

When he came out of the administration office, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, he saw that no students were glaring at him - in fact many of the girls were smiling coyly. "Well, I guess that means they think I'm okay." Dib said quietly to himself and started back for his new office.

"Hello, counselor!" The Principle said when Dib ran into her in the hallway.

"Morning, Ms. McNally." Dib smiled and took a sip of his coffee.

"Oh, call me Candice. Are you ready for your first appointment? She's a junior!" The woman beamed.

"Already, huh? Well I'm ready to go." Dib replied, feeling corny with this phony overeager chatter.

Candice slipped her arm around Dib's and ushered him back to his office briskly. "Don't want to keep her waiting!" She dropped him off at the door and continued on her way to wherever it was she was going.

"Well she's busy." Dib watched her leave for a moment then opened his door.

When Dib walked in he saw a thin girl with short purple hair looking through the things on his desk. She looked up at him unashamedly as he went and sat down in his chair, setting down his coffee. "Cool hair." He said. She was unimpressed.

"Have a seat if you want." He told her. She looked around at the different seating options available – a couch, a few comfy chairs, a recliner, even a rocking chair in the corner. "Anywhere." Dib offered. She chose the chair closest to his desk.

"So you're the new counselor. Are you good?" The girl asked.

"I try my best." Dib answered and smiled cordially.

"Our last counselor sucked." She scowled.

"Uh, what's your name, please?" Dib said, amused with her bluntness.

"Zita." She replied. "But I'm not here for myself." Zita said quickly.

"Okay, so you want to talk about 'your friend'?" Dib asked with a smile.

Zita looked at the walls behind Dib's head. He had several degrees and certificates in frames. She seemed satisfied with his credentials so looked at him directly in the eyes, obviously judging him. Dib just smiled at her patiently.

"He's not my friend, well not anymore. He doesn't have any friends." She finally said. She paused, waiting for him to respond.

"Go on." Dib encouraged, becoming more interested.

"I've gone to school with him since kindergarten; we used to be friends. He used to have a lot of friends." Zita continued. "But then, I don't know, a few years ago he got weird. He's . . . he's weird now." Zita seemed to be struggling finding the right words. "And he's always alone."

"Okay, so he's a loner now." Dib remarked.

"Ya, whatever." Zita scoffed. Dib blinked at the ill-mannered comment but maintained his smile, waiting for her to proceed.

"I think there's something going on with him. I feel so bad when everyone teases him - I thought maybe you could help him. You know, find out what's wrong. Maybe help him be normal again?"

"Like when you were friends?" Dib said.

"Well ya, we were really close. Even though we aren't now I don't like seeing him so . . . depressed." Dib saw genuine concern in her eyes.

"Okay, I'll make an appointment for him. What is his name?" Dib opened his planner and flipped through a few pages.

"Zim." She answered.

Zim was still frazzled from the nightmare he'd had last night. He couldn't remember what it was about but he had woken up screaming in the middle of the night - he hadn't screamed himself awake in years. He had been panting and when he put his hand up to the wetness he felt on his face his fingers came back with tears on them, not sweat. He hadn't been able to go back to sleep after that.

He walked to his first class, gym, briskly and with his head down. Other students made rude comments about his skin or glared at him as he walked past, some even threw things like candy wrappers after him but he didn't notice. He never notices.

Zim doesn't mind gym class but he hates the locker room. He hates having to change into his gym clothes in front of everyone and he hates how close everyone is to him. His peers also know that he hates to be touched and many of them harass him by purposely standing very close - forcing him into a corner, or reaching out for him quickly to see him jump. He was always the last one out of the locker room.

Being unusually strong, coordinated and quick made Zim very good at sports. Even so he was still always picked last for teams. Luckily though for their current unit the classes were running track. Zim was able to run ahead of the group where no one could touch him. He easily won every race every time and never even got winded.

Dib watched the students run around the track from the top bleacher. He found his eyes drawn to the figure way out in front, the one which was completely covered in winter-time gym clothes - sweat pants and a bulky pullover, with the hood up - even though it was a warm spring day. Zim was running so much faster that he had already finished one lap and was currently passing all of the students again. Some of the boys tried to grab at him and trip him to slow him down but they were no match - he easily out-maneuvered them and soon broke free of the pack again.

"I can't believe he's a Junior, he looks so young." Dib said out loud. "What's going on with you, Zim?"

Dib pulled his car into his driveway after his first day of work. He had already met with several students with minor problems about body image or crushes or some other high school drama – things that were easily ameliorated by listening and offering some sage advice. He felt optimistic about this school and was happy to have had such a good first day.

As Dib got out of his car he noticed Zim arriving at his home across the street. He had his grocery sack slung across his shoulder again. "Hey, Zim!" Dib waved and started to trot across the street cheerfully. Zim looked back at him and then started walking faster to his house. Dib slowed his pace; suddenly remembering that Zim's father didn't seem to want him talking to the boy.

Zim was halfway to his door by the time Dib made it to his side of the street. "Wait!" Dib pleaded. Zim reluctantly halted and looked back, his body posture tense. "Did I get you in trouble the other day with your dad?" Dib asked him. Zim didn't answer, just looked back to his house again. "Well I'm sorry if I did, I didn't mean to." Zim nodded once without turning around, then simply walked into his house.

"Hmm." Dib said out loud, thinking of the conversation he'd had with Zita that morning. Dib turned back and went home.

Zim closed the door after himself and when he turned around again Dwicky was right in front of him. Startled a little bit, Zim jumped and put his back flat against the door. He was trapped.

"I thought I told you not to talk to him." Dwicky said sternly.

Zim opened his mouth to protest then just shut it. He'd learned over the years that when Dwicky was angry he wouldn't listen to Zim, in fact arguing only made his punishment worse.

"You need some father-son bonding." Dwicky growled and grabbed Zim's wrist, dragging him through the kitchen and down the basement stairs.