October 22, 2011. Saturday.

Buggy desperately needs a bath. And as I struggle with him in the tub, my mind wanders off to Danny.

He's finally agreed to talk to me. However, I don't know to what extent. We may end up reading the rest of Cujo aloud and analyzing the chapters until next semester.

Buggy splashes me and begins a game of tug-of-war with the washcloth I'm using, and I return my focus to him.

He's a very needy Labrador.

October 23, 2011. Sunday.

"Still seeing this 'Danny' that I've heard you mutter so much about?" Alan asks in amusement.

I glance at him from the kitchen table and sip my coffee. "We both like Cujo," I say.

He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. I smirk. He never did like my horror novels.

October 24, 2011. Monday.

"So, Danny, are we going to talk about the book or something else?" I wonder brightly as he takes a seat.

"You seem weirdly cheery," he states, shooting me a suspicious look.

"Had a lot of coffee."

"I hate coffee."

"Well, then you don't have to drink it, do you?"

"No. But I do. And it tastes nasty."

I pause, studying him for a moment. "Why would you drink coffee?"

Danny glances away before looking back. "How was your day?"

"That's my line."

"I'm a thief."

"You'll tell me that, but you won't tell me anything else. Go figure."

"Well, Mrs. Collin?" he insists, sitting back and waving a hand. I snort. It seems that I'm the one being held under a microscope today.

"My day was normal," I begin with a thoughtful head nod. "I really haven't had any kids come to me this year." I shrug.

"You must be happy to have me," Danny mutters.

"Oh, you're a joy, yes." We stare at each other for a minute, sizing one another up.

"So it's been a good day?" he checks. It sounds sincere and I chuckle.

"You're a sarcastic little guy, aren't you?"

"I'm not little."

"Still sarcastic."

"I call it having wit."

"To each his own."

"So you're married?"

"For three years now."

"Any kids?"

"Buggy the Labrador."

"Siblings?"

"An older sister and a younger brother."

"How old is your brother?"

"He just graduated high school last year."

"And how old are you?"

"Twenty nine."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, I'm thirty."

"Why be a counselor?"

"I like kids."

"Why haven't you had any then?"

"Because I'm too busy answering your questions."

"Ah… That's unfortunate." He pauses before saying, "I'm failing English."

I sigh. But at least he's finally brought up his grades by himself. "And why's that, Danny?"

He grins sardonically at me. "Because I'm too busy sitting in this room."

"Ah…" I mock, tapping my chin. "That's unfortunate."

"Do you like answering questions?"

"I adore answering questions," I reply, smiling at him. "Do you?"

"Not one little bit," Danny remarks. We stare at one another again.

"Are you having fun with this?" I inquire.

"I'd rather be scratching my nails on a chalkboard."

Ouch. Am I that terrible of a person to sit with for half an hour? "I thought we came to an agreement last time we saw each other."

He rubs at his eye. "I know. And I'm talking. I didn't say that it'd be anything productive." Danny chews on his lip before saying, "It's not you. I just don't like being here. It's a waste of my time in my opinion, and acting like an ass is my new attempt at getting out."

"Ass?" I repeat. He hasn't been the first student to cuss. And I can't say that I'm clear of the charge, either.

He winces, looking to the window. "My bad…"

"Well, ass," I address, "this new attempt isn't going to get you anywhere. I can keep up on your antics as fast as you can create them."

Danny blinks at me. "You called me an ass," he states, seemingly surprised.

"I don't think I've heard that word used so many times in less than a minute than I have now. Besides, does the name bother you?"

He shakes his head. "I've been called worse."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No." He straightens up to look more professional. "Besides, I'm the one asking the questions today."

"Then ask away." I smile wide as he pauses. He's quiet for a couple minutes, probably not prepared with anymore questions. As the silence continues, I say, "How did you know that I had blocks with me?"

Danny stiffens. "You remembered that?"

"I have a wonderful memory. But how'd you know?" I'm genuinely curious. How had he known?

"What's your husband's name?" he says instead, looking completely serious.

Well, there goes my answer. For now, anyway. "Alan."

"That's nice." His voice seems subdued, like the vigor he had when he first came in was sucked away by some force. He chews his lip again. "What's your name?"

"Dorothy."

I see the corner of his mouth pick up. "And you didn't name your dog Toto…why?" Some of the arrogance is back in his voice.

I roll my eyes at his question. "You're hilarious."

"Did you and Alan marry on the yellow brick road?"

And that's how the rest of the time goes, Danny shooting me the most obnoxious Wizard of Oz related inquiries while I huff and take my turn acting like an immature teenager.

But if it brings us eventual progress at some point, so be it.

By the time the bell rings, he's humming Somewhere Over the Rainbow and giving me a wave as I deliver a childish glare. "Goodbye, Dorothy! I'm off to see the wizard!" he chimes at the last second with a content expression, shutting the door behind him.

"That's 'Mrs. Collin' to you, Fenton! And I hope you get abducted by the Wicked Witch of the West!"

All I hear is fading laughter as I slump back in my seat, pouting my lips like a child.

And if Danny thinks he's winning our sessions over to his side by this, he's dead wrong.