Chapter 13: Danger

August 8, 2003

Dawn and Amber settled into the folding auditorium seats and prepared to be bored. The disadvantage to summer school was that school officials felt the need to lecture you as they educated you. They were about to endure another speech in a series that Dawn and Amber had laughingly dubbed the "Danger Lectures." So far, they had covered the dangers of drugs, drinking, smoking, and unprotected sex. Today they had a detective from the SVU.

Dawn was half-listening when the officer's words caught her attention. She gave him her full attention for the rest of the lecture.

At the end, she got up and hurriedly exited as Amber called, "Dawn? Dawn! Where are you going?" Dawn kept going. She found an unused classroom, broke down and cried.

The sound of footsteps herding through the hall finally brought Dawn back to her surroundings. She had finally calmed down. She glanced at her watch and noticed she had already missed trig class. If she didn't get to the bathroom and fix her face in a hurry, she might miss French too. Not that it would be a tragedy.

Dawn had reached her locker and was switching books in her backpack when Amber ambushed her.

"What happened to you? You missed trig and Mr. Simpson was not happy. He said he was reporting you to the office immediately."

"Mr. Simpson is never happy. He thinks everyone who attends summer school is a juvenile delinquent and belongs in jail."

"Well, yeah," Amber conceded, "but he really seems to have it in for you."

"He wouldn't be the first person. If I can survive the hell-bitch, I can survive him."

"Hell-bitch?" Amber looked puzzled.

"Long story. I have to get to French. I'll see you after school." Dawn turned to walk away, then turned back. "Hey, Amber, is it alright if I come to your house tonight?"

"I'm sure it's fine. See ya."

Dawn was sitting in French, trying to pay attention, when the door opened. One of the hall monitors delivered a note to the teacher. She looked up from it and Dawn inwardly cringed as the teacher looked straight at her. "Dawn, they need to see you in the main office."

*Mr. Simpson didn't waste any time.* Dawn gathered her book and folder and shoved them into her book bag. All eyes were on her as she made her way to the door. She slowly made her way to the office through the deserted halls, fighting the urge to ditch. She was so not looking forward to doing this again.

The one advantage to attending this school was they were not aware of her previous attendance record in Sunnydale. It had kinda been nice, not having every teacher know your track record and expecting you to screw up.

The receptionist motioned Dawn to a chair and she sat down. Waiting was the worst. She could hear an excited voice behind the door to the principal's office. It sounded a lot like Mr. Simpson. He must be really mad if he was missing his smoke break so that he could report the skipped class in person. The door opened and she could hear a calm voice saying, "Mr. Simpson, we believe that each child should succeed or fail on their own merit. Subjecting a child to positive or negative expectations based on the performance or actions of a sibling is not fair."

"Mark my words, Principal Howard, the child is a juvenile delinquent. And I will take great pleasure in saying 'I told you so' when she burns down your gym."

*Oh, crap! He knew Buffy.*

Mr. Simpson exited the principal's office. When he saw Dawn, he stopped long enough to say, "You will be expected to complete all the work assigned today. You will not, of course, be able to make up the quiz you missed." With that, he marched arrogantly from the room. He reminded Dawn of Principal Snyder.

"Dawn."

Dawn turned back to see two women by the door to the principal's office. The older of the two walked forward and held out her hand. "Hello. I'm Principal Howard. You must be Dawn Summers."

Dawn shook her hand. "Unless you've called someone else to the office who's in less trouble. In that case, I'd rather be them."

Principal Howard smiled as she stepped back. "Well, unless you've done a wonderful makeup job, you probably won't convince me that you're Harold Shelton. And if it is a makeup job, you look good enough that drilling a hole in the wall to the girl's locker room wouldn't be necessary."

Dawn couldn't hold back a chuckle. *Wow. She's nice. I wonder how long that will last.*

"Under the circumstances, I think I'll be Dawn. Destruction of school property probably nets more detention than skipping a class."

At that, the principal continued speaking as she turned to the other woman, who stepped forward. "Dawn, I'd like you to meet Pamela White. She is a counselor here at the school and would like to talk to you for a few minutes."

"A counselor! Not again."

"You've seen a counselor before?" asked Ms. White

"At my old school. They had me see the guidance counselor."

"Well, I'm a different kind of counselor. Would you mind talking to me for a few minutes?"

"Okay," agreed Dawn reluctantly.

"If you'll step into my office, I'll be with you in a moment," said Ms. White as she lead the way to another door. She opened it and Dawn stepped into the office. Ms. White smiled and then stepped back out. She almost, but not quite, pulled the door closed and Dawn could hear her saying, "Has the call been made?"

An indistinct murmur answered.

"Good. I think someone needs to be here."

Dawn's suspicions were immediately aroused. *Who did they call? And why were they trying to keep it quiet?* She turned her head to face forward again as Ms. White returned to the room.

"Well, Dawn, how is school going for you?"

"Okay." Dawn carefully avoided Ms. White's eyes.

"I was reviewing your file before you arrived. You seem to be doing well in most of your classes, though you do seem to be struggling a bit in French."

Dawn allowed her eyes to roam the room, hoping she was projecting an air of nonchalance. She didn't want Ms. White to know she was nervous.

"I don't see a lot of use for French in my future," Dawn said casually. "Now Latin would be useful."

"Latin? Interesting opinion. Why did you choose to take French? It is only one of the language options offered in high school."

"Well, I took Spanish in junior high. I wanted to try something different for high school. Since a friend of the family spoke French, I thought she could help."

"She's not able to help?"

"She's not available anymore." Dawn's eyes went back to Ms. White as she spoke, her tone suddenly devoid of all emotion.

"Oh? Did she move away?"

Dawn dropped her head as she spoke quietly. "She died."

"I'm so sorry. Was she a close friend of the family?"

"Pretty close. She was inclined to speak her mind, but you got used to it after a while."

"How did she die?"

Dawn frowned at Ms. White. "You haven't looked under the 'school records' section of my file, have you?"

Ms. White reached over to the computer sitting on top of her desk and tapped a couple of keys before stopping. Dawn could guess the exact moment she realized where Dawn was from. She looked back up at Dawn. "Oh, you poor child."

Dawn dropped her eyes to her clasped hands. "She was one of the ones who didn't make it out alive."

"I'm so sorry. You must feel a tremendous amount of loss. I know you think I can't help you. That I don't know what you've been through and you're right. I don't know what it's like to lose my friends, my home, and my town. But I really think I can help. I'm sure you were, and probably still are, feeling all sorts of emotions. And I'll bet that when you first came to LA you needed a shoulder to cry on. It would be so easy for someone to take advantage of that need."

"Maybe." Dawn brought her puzzled gaze back to the counselor. She thought she knew where this conversation was going when they started. Loss = poor school performance. Been there, done that. But Ms. White had not realized she was from Sunnydale, and the 'taking advantage' bit was new. What was that about?