LI. 9 to 5

Tumble outta bed
And I stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
And yawn and stretch
And try to come to life
Jump in the shower
And the blood starts pumpin'
Out on the street
The traffic starts jumpin'
The folks like me on the job from 9 to 5

Workin' 9 to 5,
What a way to make a livin'
Barely gettin' by
It's all takin' and no givin'
They just use your mind
And they never give you credit
It's enough to drive you crazy
If you let it
9 to 5, for service and devotion
You would think that I
Would deserve a fat promotion
Want to move ahead
But the boss won't seem to let me
I swear sometimes that man is out to get me

They let you dream
Just to watch 'em shatter
You're just a step
On the boss-man's ladder
But you got dreams
He'll never take away
You're in the same boat
With a lotta your friends
Waitin' for the day your ship'll come in
'N' the tide's gonna turn
And it's all gonna roll your way

Workin' 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin'
Barely gettin' by
It's all takin' and no givin'
They just use your mind
And you never get the credit
It's enough to drive you crazy
If you let it
9 to 5, yeah
They got you where they want you
There's a better life
And you think about it, don't you
It's a rich man's game
No matter what they call it
And you spend your life
Puttin' money in his wallet

9 to 5, whoa
What a way to make a livin'
Barely gettin' by
It's all takin' and no givin'
They just use your mind
And they never give you credit
It's enough to drive you crazy
If you let it

9 to 5, yeah
They got you where they want you
There's a better life
And you dream about it, don't you
It's a rich man's game
No matter what they call it

9 to 5 is the property of Dolly Parton and is the title of the accompanying film of the same name.
Gone 'Til November is the property of Wyclef Jean.

Faithless is the property of Addictive.

"Yeah, see, you have to be really gentle with the pivot area, making sure both sides are equal," instructs Sean. "We'll torque the bolt tomorrow."

"Man, I'm kinda missing cars," laments Emmitt.

Sean grins, righting Vic's motorcycle to a more secure position. He enlisted Emmitt's help this morning, mainly to give him a confidence boost since Vic laid into him. He didn't think Emmitt got much encouragement at home.

The shack is fairly empty today. There's a nice lull where Sean could do his work diligently without going to others and checking their work. That was almost second nature to him now. It wasn't even the fact that he wanted his own shop; he just wanted to occupy his hands so he wouldn't feel urged to get into it with Dale. The one saving grace? Dale removed Ashley's stolen spindle from his sight. Sean believes it's already been installed and the car with it has been driven to who knows where. Dale couldn't use it to taunt him anymore.

Besides, Sean figures most of the taunting would be changing to what Sean does or doesn't know about Ty. Truth be told, he still doesn't know much. He casts a quick glance at Ty, rotating a baseball cap in his hands.

"So we're done?" questions Emmitt.

"Right," says Sean, turning his attention to him. "Great job for your first bike."

Emmitt beams. "Thanks, man."

Emmitt grabs his bookbag and struts out of the shed with a smile. Sean wipes his brow. Whew, at least Emmitt's escaping the heat in this place. He's unforutunately been here since nine, came there right after dropping Ellie off at Marco's. Ellie said Marco would be a good cover, but he has his doubts. He didn't forget that some of Ellie's lies regarding him, including staying with family in Fergus after her kitchen caught fire instead of staying with him, would eventually come back to haunt them. He has his fingers crossed, however.

Two other workers leave, Jared and Delonte, resulting in Sean being alone with Ty. The last time that happened Ty was barely breathing. He's been warned to stay away from him, maybe should. He should head home anyway. Dale would find something else for him to do if he hung around.

"Becca's living with her grandmother," speaks up Ty, walking past a table.

Sean raises his head, unsure of who is talking, and if it's Ty, why he's talking. He does remember Becca, her haunting song.

"Oh," says Sean.

Ty smirks. "She kept asking me why Sean, the cute guy, hasn't shown up."

A soft grin on his face, Sean shrugs. He still wasn't clear about what those beds meant or what Ty and Becca's stories were.

"She stayed there often?" says Sean, looking over his shoulder.

"When things got rough," replies Ty. "Her stepfather...made her leave. They fought...everyday."

"Sounds like my folks, way back when," recalls Sean.

"You're from a trailer park?" says Ty.

Sean purses his lips and runs a hand through his hair.

"No offense," says Ty, quickly. "Haven't seen one. I was...curious, since Dale mentioned it."

"It was no four-star hotel," supplies Sean. "Wasn't as bad as Dale makes it, though."

"Dale isn't as bad, either," says Ty.

That comment seems to come from out of nowhere, and nope, Sean has a hard time accepting that. Dale is spoiled, mean-spirited, practically sadistic.

"Guy's a creep," says Sean, as simply as he'd say "hello."

Ty places his cap on, keeping his eyes fixed on Sean. There is a deep sadness buried in them, a soft glint. Sean wagers he must've offended him. Perhaps he's speaking when he should be listening.

"You asked me if I stayed with my mom?" reminds Ty.

Yes, he did ask the first day Ty spoke to him directly.

"I stay here," admits Ty, softly. "Like I'm the only permanent person upstairs. Dale lets me stay."

"Okay?" says Sean, curiously.

"It's not a moonroof, but it's a roof," continues Ty. "Since I was nine."

"What happened when you were nine?" questions Sean.

Ty diverts his gaze, plays with the cap on his head. There I go again, moans Sean, inwardly. Digging where I shouldn't be digging.

"That's when I met Dale. I was in a school for kids who were good in math and science," replies Ty. "Guess you would call it gifted. Dale was my student teacher."

Right. Dale majored in education. This is still an odd arrangement, especially since it's been going on five years. Where were his parents? What, did Dale just take him home one day after school?

"I won a couple math awards," says Ty, blushing.

"Yeah, I'm sure you did," assures Sean.

"Sean!" bellows a voice from the doorway.

Dale stands there, perched like a criminal in those corny sherriff movies. He looks agitated, his face flushed.

"Ty, leave for a bit?" says Dale.

Sighing, Ty passes Dale after a few seconds. Sean shakes his head and tries to go by Dale as well. Dale grabs Sean's arm roughly and pushes him further into the shack. The sunlight flowing through the shack's dusty window make Dale's eyes more intense.

"Mr. Hogart has yet to show...after our most recent conversation," informs Dale.

"Not my fault," says Sean.

"Yeah, see, it kinda is," says Dale. "He's switched his shifts at my dad's shop so he won't see me. And he has your former job. That ain't no coincidence if you ask me."

"I didn't tell Jay what to do," informs Sean. "So get out of my face!"

"Yeah, I kinda like being in your girlfriend's face more," says Dale, with a calm smirk.

Sean's eyes widen, his skin prickling, the hairs on his neck and arms rising. What is this? A threat? Sean starts towards him.

"Uh-uh," laughs Dale. "All I did was follow her from the Dot. Free country."

Sean pounds the table next to him with his fist.

"So tell me, does she go in daily, weekly...gee, guess that's what I'm a have to figure out," continues Dale. "Cause that red hair sure do look pretty in the dark."

Of course, Dale used a hick accent while cutting him down, like he's the most uneducated person alive. Sean cracks his knuckles.

"I'll pound you," warns Sean.

"Do it and explain it to Ellie," says Dale. "Come on. I already dropped some hints, and we both know she's smarter than you."

"It'd be worth it," insists Sean, his lips curling.

"But would the jail time be worth it?" challenges Dale. "And as you can see, your hands are just as dirty as mine."

Sean stares at his greasy hands, stuffs them in his pockets. The bitter reality is that if the illegal quality of the shop is discovered, he'd be in a cell, same as Dale. The sole difference is that he's a minor, seventeen, but he'd be eighteen really soon.

"That's my boy," jokes Dale, flashing a large grin.

"I'm not anybody's boy," says Sean coldly.

"Enough of you blowing off steam," says Dale, ignoring him. "We need Jay. Got business tonight."

"You, me, and Ty are the only ones that go to the docks?" says Sean.

"Who says we're going to the docks?" replies Dale. "High-end shopping. Stuff you wouldn't see at a trailer park."

"What, then?" sighs Sean.

"As soon as we find Jay," shrugs Dale. "Patience, Sean. Patience."

"Jay's a ghost," says Sean. "I keep telling you..."

"Found out from Dad he's buying supplies for my dad's shop this afternoon," informs Dale. "Buying stuff that's not pot? Who knew, right? Go there and tell him to meet us at Dad's at nine tonight."

"Man...," begins Sean, throwing up his arms.

This is so dumb. Dale could just as easily get a new guy if Jay bailed on him. Dale is deluded if he believes he's doing Jay any favors.

"Do it!" interrupts Dale. "He's there. Walk out that door...or you'll...no, Ellie will be sorry."

The bum already followed Ellie home, is capable of spilling the beans to her, and her parents. All that progress he's made with the Nashes would fly up in smoke.

"And get me a flashlight," says Dale, retrieving ten bucks and stuffing it in Sean's palm.

"And batteries?" returns Sean with an icy look.

"I don't know," says Dale, smiling. "You call the shots."

II.

Toby squeezes into a parking space in the center, his car groaning as it comes to a complete stop. The engine rattles as he turns off the ignition. Ugh, he almost wishes he'd taken Bubbe's car to Hill's like Ashley. Well, at least it got him to Hollywood Video Hut. After leaving, he hasn't visited that often. He returned twice to give Manny a lift home. Then, he rented a couple movies during spring break. That was kind of funny. He hadn't been a customer there for a year and a half.

He exits the car, locking it. From the window, he views Clara writing on a piece of paper. Danny is next to her. He's staring up at the TV set above the new releases, his mouth moving.

Earlier, he called Clara and said he was able to meet her today. Her speech was pretty panicky, but she agreed. That basically confirmed this was linked to Justin.

His entrance is stopped by his cell ringing. He grins as Manny's name is shown.

"Hey," greets Toby, leaning against the car's hood. "How was your audition?"

"Terrible, horrible, non-existent," says Manny in an upset rush. "Toby..."

Her sobbing sounds more heart-breaking over the phone. If he stayed a day later, he could've comforted her better.

"Why non-existent?" prompts Toby.

"My stupid self got the day wrong," replies Manny after taking a deep breath.

"You're not stupid," insists Toby. "Are you alone right now?"

He hopes she isn't.

Manny coughs. "Yes. I'm at the theater."

"Manny, it'd be good to go to Lia's," suggests Toby. "Go home. Look, I'll stay on with you 'til you get there."

"Well...well, what are you doing right now?" says Manny through her tears.

"Meeting Clara," says Toby. "I can wait until..."

"No, Toby," sighs Manny. "Do what you need to."

"It doesn't have to be done today," assures Toby.

He hears the door swinging to his right. Clara's there, her streaked hair in a single braid. She motions for Toby to come inside.

"Manny...," begins Toby.

"Toby!" exclaims Clara.

"She's there?" says Manny on the other end. "Now I feel bad. Toby...Toby, I'll call you later."

"Wait!" cries Toby, already hearing the dial tone.

This isn't how he wants to leave Manny. Clara could've given them a couple more minutes. Whatever. He'll deal with this and then phone Manny afterwards. Perhaps she'd take a cab home and be at Lia's during their next call.

"Back room," says Clara. "I'm still technically working."

Toby exhales, follows Clara inside. Danny has his eyes closed, moving this fro-covered head to a light pop song.

"Make believe I'm everywhere, living in your eyes," sings along Danny. "Written on the pages is the never-ending story...ah ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah ahhh."

Toby chuckles while Clara smirks. Danny catches them watching him and immediately switches the TV to a basketball film starring Nick Cannon.

"Stupid kid's movie," jokes Danny, nervously. "Neverending Story? Bleh. Uh...yeah, this is what I searching for."

Clara's apparently searching for a private place for them to talk. She grabs his arm, steering him to the backroom. The lights are dim, but he can see tears threatening to spill from the corner of her eyes. Toby also wonders when the last time she slept was because there were bags under them. Clara usually looked so youthful, even during Confirmation. Not today.

"Have you heard from him?" whispers Clara.

"Um, yeah," replies Toby.

"Forgot when you were coming back. Finally broke and asked Liberty. So?"

"Two e-mails," says Toby, hesitantly.

"And?" encourages Clara.

He has no information for her after that. None. He didn't feel like reading them, especially after Manny told him about Justin criticizing her wearing the Star of David pendant.

"Clara, do you really want to be with this guy?" asks Toby, tenderly.

Clara scans his face, Toby lowering his gaze.

"You didn't read them," says Clara, shaking her head. "You don't care what happens to him. You don't care that I asked."

"I do...care about you," argues Toby. "Him? I..."

"You said you'd do one simple thing!" cries Clara. "One totally simple thing!"

"What if I forward you the messages and you e-mail him?" suggests Toby.

"Then he'll know I was checking up on him," says Clara. "He's already mad. Toby, I can't believe, you of all people, would renege on your promise."

"I promised to contact him, which I did...," begins Toby.

"Yeah, contact him throughout the summer!" interjects Clara. "Which you did...once!"

"Clara, he probably knows you're checking up on him, anyway," says Toby. "I didn't agree to be you guys' liaison."

She plays with her braid briefly, stares at a row of DVDs. Why is she going through all this trouble for him? He should tell her the real reason Justin agreed to "apologize". That would make her bail on him in a heartbeat.

"If Manny was upset, I'd talk to her for you," says Clara, with an unwavering stare.

"What?" moans Toby.

"That's what friends are for," continues Clara. "And it's taken me a long while to accept being just your friend, Toby."

Boy, she's truly throwing it all out there, isn't she? It's strange how Clara wanted to be in this backroom months ago, with Toby as her boyfriend, and now she wants him to be the link to her and her current boyfriend.

"I'll read the e-mails," gives in Toby. "Then we'll talk..."

"Tonight?" says Clara, a smile forming on her lips.

"Yep," sighs Toby.

Clara hugs Toby, her Hollywood Video Hut nametag digging into his chest. Toby winces at the sharp little pain.

"Sorry," says Clara.

They leave the backroom as Derek enters the store. Though Toby was no longer around daily, he's guessing Derek is, with Danny being promoted from Trainee to cashier in May. He remembers when they came in here, seeking jobs to be closer to Manny. As it turns out, he's the one closer to Manny, he thinks, smiling.

"The computer genius has flown in from Cali!" greets Derek, raising his fist. "Woot!"

Toby awkwardly makes a fist, Derek bumping it against his for him.

"Was Mannylicious in a hot pink thong?" questions Danny, beaming.

"That Mannylicious nickname...," starts Toby with annoyance.

"Alright, alright," says Danny. "At least you have a dime piece. My detention girl has moved on to greener pastures."

"Or weeds. She's with Chester, man," explains Derek.

"Chester!" cries Clara. "Ewww, he hit on me after Computer Club."

"He hits on everybody," says Derek. "But with you, who could blame him?"

Clara gives him a puzzled look, grins a bit.

"Well, I have to call Uncle Christian," announces Clara.

Derek opens the small door of the main desk for her.

"Thank you," says Clara, the grin growing wider. "Talk with you later, Toby."

Clara walks into the hot summer day. Derek sticks his thumbs up at Toby and Danny.

"Slick Toby-like move, no?" says Derek.

He looks to Toby for confirmation. Toby being called slick makes him feel...weird. But yeah, it's a compliment.

"Whatever," sighs Danny.

"I'm a pimp!" exclaims Derek, raising his fist.

This time, Toby gets the fist bump right.

III.

A rush of grape soda hits the bottom of a cup. Popping kernels collect in a medium-sized bag. Teenagers talk excitedly as they exit. Cut-out advertisements litter the floor. Ellie sighs.

"There's no sighing at the concessions stand," says Alex, wiping down the desk.

Usually, she likes being at the movie theater. She would either come here to visit Alex, or check out a flick with Marco. Sean was only into a select few films. In any case, she liked having her mind occupied for those ninety or so minutes. Her mind isn't occupied.

The Nashes called the Del Rossis and Emily Nunez before she could. When she went inside, she heard her Dad yelling into the phone, and he rarely yelled when he wasn't in uniform. Her mother had been crying; she could tell by the number of tissues in the living room trashcan. As soon as Ellie unlocked the door, Amanda ran to it, and glared at her daughter. Then, she must've seen Jay, and must've concluded that she was with Sean or with Sean and Jay, or it had something to do with Sean. Her motherly instict definitely kicked in, while her father blinked at her blankly. Amanda didn't yell, however, told her to go to her room and they'd discuss it in the morning.

This morning wasn't any better. John Nash asked where she was, as her mother took a seat. She didn't lie. What was the point? Her parents tossed disappointed glances at each other, at her. She had never been so irresponsible. In fact, she has been completely responsible since the party at Sean's near Christmas. Can't they cut her some slack? Neither said a word, and Ellie ducked out, hoping their quiet anger would cease sometime today.

"Why didn't I go home?" asks Ellie, more to herself.

"Have a Snickers," suggests Alex, sliding a candy bar her way.

"You won't get in trouble?" whispers Ellie.

"Mary isn't even in today," says Alex. "And I'll be leaving this place starting in late August."

Ellie stares at her quizzically, Alex smiling fully.

"Confused?" admits Ellie.

Alex dodges the answer as she and Ellie view Paige coming toward them, shopping bags in hand. She was also wearing a sorority beret, one of the ones Ellie saw at the roller skating event.

"Clearance sale at Pretty Pretty!" announces Paige.

"Goody goody," says Alex, sarcastically.

"Thanks, hon, for your oh so witty commentary," returns Paige. "So how's business today?"

"Busy," answers Alex. "There's some hit movie about an earthquake or meteor or something. They all die except for, of course, the two attractive leads."

Paige scrunches her nose, sets down her Pretty Pretty retrievals. As she does, a melodic jam pumps over the theater's speakers.

"Oh, this is my jam!" exclaims Alex, beginning to move to the beat.

Doors to a particular showing open, a teenage couple coming through, lips fused together. They were more into themselves than the film. Ellie wishes she and Sean were that carefree, that Dale would leave Sean alone. Several of the things Sean talked about with her yesterday had an aura of gloom and confusion attached to them. She isn't sure Sean thinks he can do all of this for them, and more importantly, for himself. On the other hand, Ellie has no doubts that Sean is able to do them. There has to be a way to cheer him up.

"When does your lacrosse thingamajiggy start?" questions Paige.

"You got the job!" cries Ellie, excitedly. "Congrats!"

"Yep," says Alex. "No interview, no nothing. Coach Jacobs was pleased to have me. It's from August to November."

"Assistant Couch Nunez," says Ellie. "Has a nice ring to it."

"I'm with that," comments Alex. "Adios, popcorn popper, sugary candy, and ice machine that forever gets jammed."

"Still?" mutters Paige.

"Still," says Alex. "At least adios 'til November...yeah, I'll be gone 'til November, I'll be gone til November..."

Paige and Ellie begin to laugh, Alex grooving to the beat. Work. Whoa, what if...yeah, Ellie knows exactly what to do to help Sean believe in himself again. She stays quiet as Alex sings.

"Every time I make a run, girl, you turn around and cry
I ask myself why, oh why
See, you must understand, I can't work a 9 to 5
So I'll be gone 'til November..."

"What is this song?" questions Paige. "Oh...I know! It's Wyclef Jeans."

Alex groans. "No, Jean, like John. Say it with me."

"Wyclef Johnnn," sound out Alex and Paige, who raises her eyebrows.

"And give a kiss to my mother," finishes Alex, hitting her chest with the peace sign, kissing it, and lifting it to the sky.

"I like this," compliments Ellie. "It's...not too gangsta."

Alex bursts out laughing, as Paige provides Ellie a comforting pat.

"What?" demands Ellie.

"I'm sending you guys the link to Urban Dictionary," says Alex, staring between them.

IV.

He's been in this store hundreds of times. Okay, maybe not a hundred. He knew Quentin, the guy behind the counter, pretty well. If you asked him where to find the lug nuts or the bleeder screws, he could direct you. The clang of the cash register opening, then closing, stings his ears. The clatter of carts with car parts shaking in them makes his heart quiver. He can't back out.

Yes, he got the stupid flashlight, hated himself for finding it quickly. Now, he's browsing...and waiting. He flipped through a couple motorcycle magazines, then the classifieds. Usually, he enjoyed this activity. Put Your Pedal to the Metal is a haven for motor lovers. Sean hasn't had a haven since this began, at least not a haven in his head.

While combing through his books to locate the unused thesaurus, Sean came upon a book he read for Kwan's grade eight English class. He remembered it because it was a book he actually liked, The Jungle Books by Rudyard Kipling. The stories captured the exciting feeling of living in the jungle. It would probably be a world Sean never saw. In most of the stories, Mowgli did his best to protect the honor of the jungle as different enemies sought to destroy it or to destroy him. The boy, not raised in the best of circumstances, fought so many battles Sean could hardly keep track. In the end, though, he won and joined the world of men, became a man. That's what Sean got from it, anyway. You had to go through everything to get to anything.

The chime of someone's arrival forces Sean to return the magazine. Jay retrieves a cart from the front, the wheels rattling as it slides across the floor. Sean trails Jay in aisle six.

"Heh, lubricants," says Jay, chuckling while taking the container of motor oil. "Next is..."

Jay consults his list, goes further down the aisle.

"Composition book," notes Jay as he goes past the office supplies. "Hmph."

Composition book? Why did you need that at a garage? Jay fetches two books and throws them into the cart. They didn't seem to be on the list because Jay doesn't look at the list. I better make myself known before Jay leaves this aisle, thinks Sean. Sean clears his throat.

"Oh, hey, man," greets Jay.

"Hey," says Sean.

Jay holds up the list.

"Mr. Hill is letting me do inventory," explains Jay. "We're running low on some stuff. Guy trusts me with money. More than my dad does, anyway."

"Right," mutters Sean. "Ummm..."

He's weighing whether to come right out and tell Jay Dale's message, or to ease into it. Easing is easier, concludes Sean.

"What're the composition books for?" asks Sean.

"Oh, these?" says Jay. "Uh, this thing at the community center at eight. It's like...lame. Connected to work."

Jay's smile disappears for a second, then returns.

"You working at Dale's today?" questions Jay.

"Earlier," answers Sean. "Me and Emmitt were doing bikes. I actually bought a bike...recently."

"Awesome!" exclaims Jay. "What kind?"

"Yeah, a Ducati Monster," says Sean. "Took El for a spin."

"Ellie," says Jay, his head shifting to the side.

The way he said her name you'd think she was dying. No, that's a thought he won't force himself to have, to mull over. She's safe if he plays by Dale's sick little rules, including telling Jay that...

"He's been bugging her, man," informs Jay. "Like he followed her home."

Jay doesn't even have to say that particular name.

"What'd he do?" whispers Sean, urgently.

"He was this close to spilling the beans," continues Jay. "Ellie looked scared."

"And Dale's packing," groans Sean.

"I don't think he was packing then," says Jay. "More verbal vomit than anything. Sean, the guy's a control freak. That's why I'm ditching his thing."

Well, good for him. Jay's not a target, moans Sean inwardly. Dale has picked his target-- Ellie. At least Jay has the option of walking away.

"Dude, Dale would be putting me down at his dad's, and at his shop," says Jay. "A guy gets sick of hearing he's a loser. I can go home and hear that from Dad."

Okay, so maybe Jay didn't have it to so easy. When they were at Degrassi, he and Jay didn't have any classes together, except shop, where they both excelled. Besides that, Jay spent more days in detention than he did in class. He'd roam the halls or go into the ravine or chill at the Dot with Towerz. Sean has no idea how Mr. Hogart feels about his son unless Jay mentioned him. Even then, Jay mentioned him briefly, so briefly.

"The night you said you'd give up some of your earnings, so the parts could be good?" reminds Jay. "Emmitt told me. Man, I've been wanting to say that. I was surprised I wanted to say that."

"Really?" says Sean, not trying to sound too shocked.

"I like doing a good job," says Jay, softly. "I'm not good at much else."

"Me too," confesses Sean.

"Inventory's boring and all, but..." says Jay, his voice trailing off.

Jay doesn't have to finish. It's a legal task, and it's for a nice boss that sees potential in his workers. He's the same boss that apologized and offered Sean a promotion. It's a job for a real man.

"Hill already hired a replacement?" asks Sean.

"He's interviewing people today," informs Jay. "Until six."

"Eh, I can't make it," whispers Sean, Jay able to hear him.

"Stuff for Dale?" says Jay.

"Unfortunately," says Sean, staring at the flashlight. "He wanted you to do something at nine..."

"What?" prompts Jay.

He's sick and tired of Dale's traps and mean words. Here he is, like a dog, doing what he's told. There has to be a way for both of them to get out of there without worrying what he'll do next. He'll confess to Ellie after tonight. Dale wouldn't have anything on him, then. As for Jay...

"Ain't important," replies Sean, shrugging at him.

"Good," sighs Jay.

"Yeah," insists Sean. "Tonight? Just do your own thing."

V.

Ellie runs a highlighter through the various chapter titles of the book she bought at the mall. The book is composed of useful tips for newspaper editors, and most of them Ellie hadn't heard of, so that was great. What's not so great is where the bus is taking her-- home. It pulls to a gentle stop at the corner of her street. She can't wait to get her license.

She thanks the bus driver, starts the walk to her house, grateful that it's daylight. Another Dale encounter would be too soon. Yesterday, she and her mom were supposed to go to Home Depot. It was going to be a mother-daughter outing. Maybe that's why Amanda Nash was so affected when Ellie didn't phone or come home. Maybe she saw it as her choosing Sean over her, which wouldn't seem impossible given past events. She never desired to make that impression, on either of her parents.

Inserting the key, Ellie peeks inside, then goes into the foyer. She hears some soft shuffling, views her dad in the living room. He's sorting through some books. Her guess is that her mother's gone, to work or somewhere else. John Nash liked having other people in rooms when he could, part of his military unit personality. He'd rather be in a room with her or her mom than alone. The sole time he enjoyed being alone was when he was working on his car, but even then, he'd have the radio on blast to hear voices.

"Dad?" calls Ellie.

"Hi, Ellie," he says in a sweet tone.

That's nice. The anger must've melted a bit. She can deal with that. Then, she spies why.

"Not the baby pictures," groans Ellie.

Chuckling, John Nash sits back with a photo album, patting a spot next to him.

"All that red hair," comments John as Ellie joins him.

Ellie grimaces at the ruffled, pink dress and white stockings on her baby body, her red hair in tiny ponytails.

"So last night...," begins John.

Uh-oh, thinks Ellie. Here it comes.

"Last night, I realized you were really grown up," sighs John. "Ellie, it's really difficult to punish you two months before school. We can't exactly ground you at university, can we?"

Ellie shrugs her slim shoulders. Hmm, this is weird. Part of her would rather him yell than have him do this sensitive, fatherly guilt trip.

"All I ask is that you be responsible," insists John. "We will always be worried about you. Understand?"

She nods, quickly, and hugs him from the side.

"And please make another Home Depot date," suggests John. "Your mother loves..."

"To decorate," fills in Ellie, scratching her head. "I know, I know."

"Alright then," says John. "Also..."

"I won't pull a stunt like that again," promises Ellie.

Nothing is said for a few moments as John turns the pages, evaluating Ellie throughout the ages. Pre-school Ellie held her first completed book, Horton Hears a Who; she rode the playground's swings, her hair long and bouncy as she swung; she let a parrot rest on her fingers at a petting zoo. John goes to the end of a book, where a laminated picture showed her, Degrassi Community School diploma in hand, her parents on each side.

"Sean's graduating next year?" says John.

"Yes," answers Ellie. "First in his family...actually."

"No kidding. That's a big achievement," commends John.

"Um...also, commendable?" says Ellie. "He's the top mechanic at Hill's."

"I've seen that shop," says John. "Across from the printer's, right?"

"Right!" replies Ellie.

John closes the album, takes a deep breath as he sets it on the coffee table.

"He's worked on every kind of car there is," begins Ellie.

She's not exactly sure this will fly, but it's worth a shot. The idea that she had at the movie theater seemed way too doable for him to pass on, so he couldn't. Well, hopefully.

"Including...Cadillacs," finishes Ellie, staring at her nails.

John laughs. "Ellie..."

"You said you weren't too good with cars when you were in high school," interrupts Ellie, staring at him. "Sean can suggest some tips."

"I like to think I've gotten better since then," defends John genially.

Ellie purses her lips, selects another alternative that would play on his fatherly ways.

"This could be an opportunity to check out my future mechanic," says Ellie. "And by that, I mean, who will service my car, the car you guys so kindly offered to buy."

"And not as in 'my future mechanic', that is my future husband?" kids John.

"Dad!" cries Ellie.

"Fine, fine," agrees John, smiling. "You can only twist my arm so much."

She hugs him fully, and before she can throw her bag into her bedroom, they're in their garage. Based on Sean's summer schedule, he'd be working tonight. Ashley's car had to be done by then, so he wasn't at the Kerwin-Isaacs'. Plus, if he isn't there, they could ask Mr. Hill. Ellie got along pretty well with him especially after she told him her grade point average. Adults were always impressed by good grade point averages, for whatever reason. However, he seemed more enamored with Sean's talents under the hood.

Driving to Hill's, Ellie lists Sean's many success stories. He rescued two Ford Mustangs for two other classic car lovers. The summer they were living together, he stayed late to help a kid with his go-kart for a race, and the kid returned to show Sean his first place trophy. Then, Sean wrote and implemented the checklist system, with a little nudge from Ellie. She's sure there's more that Sean hasn't told her. For every description, her father appeared impressed. His Cadillac would be looked over by the best of the best.

They park outside the garage. Another mechanic, Patrick, recognizes her and waves. Ellie returns it, glances around. No Sean or Jay. That's strange.

"Ellie!" greets Mr. Hill, leaving his office.

"Hi, Mr. Hill," says Ellie. "This is my dad, Colonel Nash."

"Oh, a military man," says Mr. Hill, shaking his hand. "What an honor."

"I hear this is the best place to find a mechanic," says John.

"Well, Jay's my go-to guy," thinks Mr. Hill. "He's out picking up some goods. Patrick here..."

"We...um, have very specific tastes," interjects Ellie as she takes her father's arm.

"Okay?" says Mr. Hill, staring at her blankly.

"This Cadillac would truly benefit from the work of Sean Cameron," says Ellie with a grin. "He's not working today?"

"We'll go with what she said," adds John, smiling.

Mr. Hill narrows his eyes in confusion, Ellie noticing it. Did Sean have another task, too?

"Sean's no longer with us," informs Mr. Hill. "He didn't tell you?"

Ellie loses grip of her father's arm, searches instantly throughout the garage. There was Patrick and two other younger guys. Sean's old station has no trace of his bookbag, his lucky bandanna, or his uniform. Dale's uniform hangs on a hook.

"What...what do you mean?" stammers Ellie.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but he was let go...quite a few weeks ago," shares Mr. Hill.

John casts a wayward glance at Ellie. Ellie swallows, tears burning the back of her eyes. A few weeks ago? He hasn't told her for weeks! Who does that? Who honestly does that? Definitely not Sean. He's never lied to her.

"Offered him his job back, but no doing," laments Mr. Hill. "He ran off. Did he tell you he was interested or..."

"No, he's not interested," answers Ellie, bluntly, as tears fall. "He's too busy lying."

Her father reaches for her, can't console her as Ellie walks quickly from their view. She gets as far as the printer, leans against a brick wall. The wall is hard against her body. She lets her feet sink under her, her black fishnets touching the paved sidewalk. If only she were five again, in those clean, white stockings. If only she were five and not in love.

VI.

"Change around the words that you say, to suit me fine," sings Dale along with the boombox.

His feet are crossed, sitting on top of the table. From the glass doors of the office building, Sean can tell he's holding something, but isn't able to identify it. The office is otherwise empty, store hours nearing closing time. A copier spews paper onto a tray. The door leading to Ty and the other beds is shut.

The plan he chose was to tell Dale that Jay had a family commitment. Jay, since he was so informed, most likely knew how strict Mr. Hogart was and would give him a pass since he wouldn't want to deal with a parent. He didn't harrass Ellie in front of her parents, anyway. Sean pushes through the door, Dale immediately smiling.

Predictable behavior
I crave ya
I'm driving y'all
My own is living save yeah,
Sometimes I hate ya
But I'm whipped
Being gone head down to the crypt
Restricted like a conscript
You loved to bully
I placed the blame with you
Fully...

Dale lowers the volume on the boombox, assesses Sean. He's holding something Sean is very familiar with, the handgun gleaming in Dale's smooth hands.

"Hello, Sean," sing-songs Dale.

Sean rolls his eyes.

"I would say welcome...but you've already been here, haven't you?" says Dale. "Sneaking upstairs, bothering kids. Curiosity killed the cat."

"Or the rat," throws back Sean.

"You're real brave when I've got a gun in my hand," observes Dale.

Dale opens a desk drawer, fetches a white, rectangular box. He slides it open. A couple bullets trickle to the desktop. After kissing them, he puts them inside.

"And now it's loaded," remarks Dale.

"What kind of high-end place involves you carrying that?" asks Sean.

"You'll see," says Dale, standing.

He goes to the copier, reads the paper. To avoid any mentions of Jay, Sean decides to try and change the subject.

"Been teaching Ty since he was nine?" says Sean.

Dale raises his head and glares at him.

"Maybe," he replies, coolly.

He sits at the desk again, lays the gun flat on the table.

"Where's his family?" questions Sean.

"You ask a lot of dumb questions," blasts Dale, cheeks suddenly getting red. "His family's here. Current one, that is."

"Please," mumbles Sean, sarcastically.

"Sean, there are two types of kids in this world," says Dale, gazing at him. "There are kids who have bad families, and there are kids that deserve bad families. Guess which one you are."

Sean clicks his tongue.

"You got bitterness in every bone of your lughead body," laughs Dale. "So obvious."

"Obvious how?" exclaims Sean.

Dale didn't have any idea what feelings he's having. If he did, he would be able to tell that Jay's not coming, that Sean was plotting a way to leave right then.

"Kids with bad families need someone to be there for them," continues Dale. "They were dealt a bad hand. I steer kids that need me, Sean. It may not be the way people like, but I do. Ty and Becca...they can still be somebody. Becca's gifted in music, Ty in math. You? You were born into a bad family because you've got no future. You'll always be under someone because you've got no confidence."

"Do you hear yourself when you talk?" shouts Sean. "You're pathetic!

"You wish I was pathetic," says Dale. "Like your friend, Jay. A real burn-out. I'm doing both of you a favor. And the only one hearing is you. You hear me when you're working, when you're at home, when you're on the streets."

Dale lifts the gun, advances slowly to Sean.

"I'm there because I have everything you want," assures Dale. "I have the shop you want, the cash you want, the respect you want. And I'm doing it all illegally. You want to leave, but secretly you want this. You want it so bad you love and hate me. That's why you stay. You're entranced."

I'm addicted
I have a little problem
I have a demon for a wife
He delights in your pretty face and he hates my life
Takes notes on how to provoke past grief
Makes my teeth decay with the last of my self belief
Change around the words that you say,
to suit me fine.
Make them mine...

Sean shakes his head fervently. No, Dale's wrong, as wrong as wrong can get. He wants certain similar things, but not like this. He'd rather receive it through hard work, without losing the people he loves. But isn't he doing what Dale is doing? How did that happen? Why'd he let it happen? Sean shakes his head a final time.

"Your silence is your answer," says Dale, smirking. "On to brighter topics, should I be expecting Jay?"

Sean stays silent. All of his excuses have vanished after that horrible speech by Dale.

"Tsk, tsk, Sean," reprimands Dale. "Guess we'll have to pay him a visit. Where's the pothead?"

"Shut up," mumbles Sean.

"I'll shut you up," says Dale, flashing the gun. "This is a three-man job. It's all for you. We're getting that cute little Ashley girl a spankin' new spindle."

Wait. This is what they're going to shop for? Where would they go for that? Dale's providing no more hints.

"Where is Jay?" asks Dale.

"Community center," mutters Sean.

"What?" says Dale. "Louder. I'm not deaf in one ear like that Tyler kid, but I can't hear it through your marble mouth."

Great. He's insulting two people in one sentence now. Man, he'd rather be in a room with Tyler than this idiot.

"Community center...at eight o' clock," supplies Sean.

"Time to visit Jay," says Dale. "Oh, where's the flashlight?"

Rather than pass it to him, which he's able to do, Sean throws it hard on the desk. The batteries tumble out of the bag.

"You better watch your back, Cameron," says Dale, hurriedly retrieving the flashlight. "I mean it."

"Why?" demands Sean.

"My patience, like your salary, is gonna grow thin," says Dale, aiming the gun into empty air to Sean's side. "Let's go."