They say times are hard for dreamers
And who knows, maybe they are
People seem stuck, or lost at sea
And I might be a dreamer
But it's gotten me this far
And that is far enough for me

It isn't where I am
It's only where I'll go from here
That matters now
And I am not afraid!
As everything I'll ever need appears
This is how my world gets made

-"Times Are Hard for Dreamers," from Amelie


"Penelope, you're sure this is the way to the dining hall?"

Penelope hesitated. "I think so," she said, looking around the courtyard. It was early enough that it was a little cool outside, but decidedly humid, and the dew in the grass was getting her shoes wet. "It's harder to tell in daylight. It was darker last night. And honestly I wasn't paying a lot of attention. Do you remember?"

JJ pulled her long hair over one shoulder. "Let's just wait for someone else to go by and follow them," she suggested.

Penelope sighed. She hadn't left her room once she'd moved in, opting to hide out in her cozy pink sanctuary and live off her snacks until she'd ventured out with JJ the night before. Now she wished she'd spent more time exploring before move-in day stated. It was a beautiful campus, all old stone buildings covered in ivy and cobblestone paths lined with trimmed rosebushes, and the forest and the mountains looming outside the manicured lawns, but it was so much bigger than she had realized. Maybe I should have kept that map after all, she thought.

But she brightened as she caught sight of several familiar figures crossing the opposite direction. "Oh! Let's follow them!" she said. "Hotch! Derek! Hey! We got turned around again!"

The two boys stopped and turned around; Spencer kept walking, his nose in a book, but Hotch caught him by his shirt collar and tugged him back. "Did you two seriously forget where the dining hall is already?" he asked, exasperated, as Penelope jogged to catch up, JJ trailing behind her.

"In our defense, it was dark last night, and JJ wasn't paying attention," Penelope said. JJ shot her a look. "Okay, I wasn't paying attention. But I'll totally remember after this."

Hotch shook his head and steered Spencer down the path, the rest of the group following close. "What are you two gonna do tomorrow when classes start?" Derek snickered. "The two of you are gonna end up wandering into all the wrong rooms."

"It's fine, Derek," Hotch said. "We can go on a campus tour later. The two of us can show the new kids around."

"Aw, man, I was gonna go for a run," Derek complained. "Football tryouts are tomorrow."

"You'll have time," Hotch said, rolling his eyes. "Schedule pickup starts at ten, and the extracurriculars fair starts at three. I'm sure we can walk around campus and leave time for you to work out in between." Spencer tripped on a rock and Hotch caught him by the back of his shirt. "Spencer, buddy, maybe now isn't a good time to read."

"I'm at a good part," Spencer objected, but he closed the book with a heavy sighed and tucked it under his arm.

Penelope craned her neck, trying to look at the title. "Whatcha reading?" she asked. He held it up. "The Jungle? Is that like...The Jungle Book?"

"Oh, I liked that movie when I was little," JJ said.

"The animated one or the new one with Bill Murray?" Derek asked.

"No, the other one, the old one from the nineties."

"It's not The Jungle Book, it's just The Jungle," Spencer corrected. "By Upton Sinclair. It's a novel, but it exposes the unsanitary lack of regulation in the meat packing industry in the early 1900s. That's what helped lead Theodore Roosevelt to pass the Meat Inspecting Act and the Food and Drug Act. There's a scene where a kid dies because he got locked in a closet at his job and he gets eaten by rats."

"Okay, maybe let's not talk about people getting eaten by rats before we eat breakfast," Hotch said. He opened the door to the dining hall and Derek held it. "Spencer, let's hold off on the book for right now. You can read later."

Penelope wrinkled her nose. "Maybe read never, if it's about people getting eaten by rats," she said.

"All right, we're done, no more talking about rats at breakfast. Get in line."

Penelope picked up a tray and followed behind Derek. She wasn't much a breakfast person- back home in California she usually grabbed poptarts to eat on the bus to school- but the St. Thaddeus cafeteria looked pretty good. "Hey, Derek, save from French toast for the rest of us," she said, reaching under his arm to grab the tongs away from him.

"Hey!" he said, trying to grab it back. She held them above her head and stuck her tongue out at him.

Hotch grabbed them from her hand, picked up two pieces, and set them on Penelope's plate. "Enough," he said. "Derek, you have six pieces. I think that's enough to start."

"Fine," he grumbled.

Hotch clicked the tongs like a middle aged dad manning a grill. "JJ, do you want some?" he asked.

"I don't like French toast," JJ said. "It's too...eggy."

"So I'm guessing you don't want any scrambled eggs."

She leaned over, looking down the line at the silver pan full of fluffy yellow eggs, and recoiled. "No way," she said. "I'll just get a bagel or something."

"You can't function on just a bagel, get some fruit at least," Hotch said. He looked down. "Spencer? You need a hand?"

Spencer leaned on the rail and jumped, stretching out his little arms in attempt to get a plate off the rack. "Yeah, kinda," he huffed.

Hotch picked up a plate and set it on his tray. "They didn't build this school with ten-year-olds in mind, I guess," he laughed. "What do you want?"

Spencer peeked over the edge of the rail. "French toast, please," he said. "With a lot of syrup."

"How much is a lot?"

"I'll tell you when."

Penelope scooped a heap of melon chunks, strawberries, and grapes onto her plate. "JJ, do you want some?" she asked.

JJ scrunched her nose. "Melon is so gross," she said. "It's like eating wet styrofoam."

"JJ. I said get some fruit," Hotch said. "Spencer, this is more than enough syrup."

"Just a little bit more…"

"Absolutely not."

JJ sighed and picked up an apple. "I guess I'll eat this," she said reluctantly.

"There's some cereal over there," Penelope suggested, nodding towards the little bar set up against the wall. "Looks like they have Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, Cinnamon Toast Crunch-" JJ immediately left the line, leaving her tray behind.

"Take the apple!" Hotch called.

"I got it, I got it," Penelope said.

Hotch shifted Spencer's plate onto his tray. "All right, keep moving, keep moving," he said. "Spencer, go get utensils for everybody, okay?" Spencer nodded and darted off through the crowd.

"Follow me, baby girl, I'll pick a table," Derek said. Penelope followed him, balancing the tray carefully. The dining hall was bustling now, students filling up the long rectangular tables and screeching their chairs on the floor. Derek picked a table on the middle right, against a wall, and set down his tray.

"Is it always this busy in here?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah, just wait till tomorrow," Derek said. "I'm gonna get some juice. You want anything?"

"Ooh, yes, some chocolate milk, please," she said, twisting around in her chair. She winked. "Thanks, sweetness."

He blinked. "Did you...did you just call me sweetness?" he said.

"Well, if you're going to call me baby girl, I need something to call you," she said with a shrug. "I'll keep trying. Oh, and can I have a straw too please?"

He shook his head, grinning, and walked away. Spencer nearly collided with him, his hands filled with silverware. "Whoa, pretty boy, watch you're going!" Derek said. "Didn't your mama ever tell you not to run with knives?"

"No," Spencer said. "Although I guess it's pretty sensible." He stopped and scrunched up his face. "Did you just call me pretty boy?"

"I think nicknames are just his thing," Penelope said. "You'll have to come up with a name to call him."

Spencer looked Derek up and down, frowning. "Well, okay...Pudge Heffelfinger," he said slowly. He looked at Penelope. "How was that?"

"Terrible," she informed him.

"Yeah, I don't even read Harry Potter," Derek said.

Spencer tilted his head. "I don't understand," he said. "William 'Pudge' Heffelfinger was the first professional football player in 1892. I thought it would be topical, since you're interested in football."

Penelope turned to Spencer. "Honey, 1892 isn't very topical," she said. She tilted back to look at Derek. "And Derek...you're not a Hufflepuff. Definitely a Gryffindor."

"Is that good?" he asked warily.

"It can be. Go get your juice."

Spencer climbed onto the chair next to Penelope, sitting on his knees as Hotch and JJ caught up to them. "Spencer, sit on your butt or you'll fall on the floor," Hotch said. He set down Spencer's plate full of syrup in front of him, two pieces of French toast floating in the middle like tiny islands, then set an orange down next to it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. "Okay, great. We have plenty of time before pickups start."

"What are we picking up?" JJ said, shoveling cereal in her mouth before it could get too soggy.

Hotch dug into his oatmeal. "Schedules, textbooks, uniforms," he said. "The last of the important things."

Derek set down a glass of chocolate milk decked with a straw. "Here you go, baby girl," he said.

"Oh, perfect," she said, beaming up at him. "Thank you."

"Derek, can you keep the girls company while I take Spencer to Gideon's office?" Hotch asked.

Spencer paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. "Do I have to?" he asked.

A big glob of syrup dripped off his fork onto his shirt. JJ silently handed Penelope a napkin and she handed it to Spencer, who immediately rubbed at the drop, making it worse. Not that the shirt was in great condition to begin with- it was the same one he'd worn the night before. "Yeah, we'll just make sure everything's in order with all the stuff you missed yesterday," Hotch said. He looked up from his oatmeal. "Don't worry, I'll go with you. And you met Gideon, he's nice."

"Is he nice? He's mostly just intimidating," Derek said, his mouth full of bacon. Penelope elbowed him lightly. "Oh. Uh...yeah. He's real nice." Spencer sat back, still kneeling on the chair, and still not looking very reassured.

Penelope took a sip of her chocolate milk and cleared her throat. "So we've established that Derek is a Gryffindor," she said, attempting to change the subject. "I'm a Hufflepuff with extremely strong Ravenclaw tendencies. How about you guys?"

"Are those real words?" Hotch asked. "Or did you just make that up?"


Dave checked his watch as they strolled out of the dining hall. "We have another hour till pickups start," he said. "What do you guys want to do?"

Emily fiddled with the bracelets jangling on her wrists. Normally she didn't think twice about her outfits- she'd put in a lot of work to assemble her collection of rare vintage band shirts- but she had the sneaking suspicion that she stuck out like a sore thumb next to the boys in their polo shirts and shorts, and especially next to Alex in her light blue tank top and denim skirt. They looked like wholesome summer camp counselors, and she looked like a vampire that woke up too early. But...that was fine. She liked what she wore.

"I don't know," she said. "What do you guys do around here? Cell service is shit, and it's not like we can go off campus."

"Oh, we can go off campus," James assured her. "It just takes at least twenty minutes to get anywhere." Emily rolled her eyes.

Alex tightened her ponytail. "Why don't we walk around for a while?" she suggested. "Show Emily the sights."

Emily kicked at a rock; today the Doc Martens she wore were a maroon color with black laces. "The sights?" she repeated. "Back home the tourist attractions are, like...the Trevi Fountain and the Sistine Chapel. Don't get your hopes up, I may be slightly underwhelmed by a boarding school campus."

Dave brightened. "Wait, are you actually from Italy?" he asked, switching easily to Italian.

"Yeah, I lived in Rome for the past two years," she said. "My mom's an ambassador. We've lived all over the place. Ukraine, Japan, a couple of places in the Middle East."

"I love Rome," Dave said. He was clearly fluent, but there was a weird little quirk to the way he spoke. "I have family in Italy."

"Oh, really? Where?"

He took a left turn down the path and she kept up with him, Alex and James trailing behind. "Sirmione, near Milan," he said. "I've visited there every summer since I was a kid."

"Milan?" she repeated, wrinkling her nose. "Oh, that explains the accent."

"I don't have an accent!" he exclaimed. "I'm actually Italian. I was born with the correct accent."

Alex slipped in between them. "Chill," she said firmly. "It's too early in the morning for a passionate Rossi argument." She spoke fluently too, but she'd clearly picked up a little bit of Dave's accent. She paused. "Where's James?"

Dave glanced back over his shoulder. "I think we lost him," he said. James was far behind them, hands in his pockets, strolling at a quarter of their speed while he gazed at his surroundings.

"He probably zoned out when we started speaking Italian," Alex said. "We've tried teaching him and he's hopelessly terrible. You think Rossi here has an accent." She cupped her hands around her mouth. "James!"

He looked up, startled, and jogged to catch up. "Sorry, I got distracted," he said. "What did I miss?"

"Um...Emily's lived in a lot of international locations, and she said Rossi has an accent," Alex said.

"I do not have an accent," he grumbled under his breath.

"Regional dialect," Emily offered. She sighed deeply. "How about you guys show me those sights you were talking about?"

"Absolutely," James said. "We'll give you the grand tour."

She was not interested in the sights, but they were being pretty nice to her, all things considered. Especially since the three of them had clearly been friends for a long time, and they'd accepted her pretty much immediately.

What would they think of you if they knew why you got sent here? a little voice whispered in the back of her mind, but she pushed the thought away.

"So you've already seen the main building," James was saying, gesturing broadly. "Most classes are there, and the offices. It's the oldest part of the school, it was built in around 1893. And you've seen the three dorm buildings, and the dining hall."

Emily glanced back at the paved paths lined with flowerbeds and dogwood trees. Already the main building looked small. "Jesus, this campus is bigger than I thought," she said.

"It was a work farm at one point, these were all pastures," Alex explained. "St. Thaddeus was built as an all-boys school, then became an orphanage during the Great Depression, then a work farm for juvenile delinquents in the forties and fifties. Then it became a school in the sixties."

James pointed to a little white church across the way, stained glass windows shining in the morning light- the early coolness had already faded, giving way to bright sun and humidity that crawled down Emily's neck and threatened to soak into the neckline of her black tee shirt. "That's the chapel," he said. "We have chapel every day, whether you're religious or not, so...be prepared for that."

"Oh, my school in Rome was Catholic, don't worry," she said. "Is this school Catholic?"

"Originally, but now it's just 'non-denominational'," Dave said. He actually used finger quotes and she had to bite back a laugh. "Catholic in name only now."

"There's the amphitheater," Alex said. "It's not used very often, but we like to do our homework over there when it's nice. You'll see- everybody on campus has their favorite places. There's lots of places to hide out here."

"For sure," James said. "My dad told me that when he went here, they used to have giant games of flashlight tag on weekends. They had stop because one kid hid in the rose garden for so long he missed class on Monday." He grinned. "That was my dad."

The paved walkway had given way to a dirt path, worn through the grass and beaten down by hundreds of footsteps. "Are we walking all the way down to the creek?" Alex asked.

"Sure, why not," Dave shrugged. "Emily doesn't strike me a sports person, so we might as well go there instead of the fields. Especially since we'll have to walk by them when we go to the gym for pickups."

"Yeah, not too much of a sports person," Emily said. "The creek is fine."

The farther they walked, the more overgrown the path became, long grasses swaying and catching at her jeans and snagging her skin through the purposeful rips in the fabric. Clusters of Queen Anne's lace and purple thistles bobbed cheerfully, hidden by the grass. She could hear the creek before they reached it, the soft heavy rushing of water.

"Watch your step," Alex warned. "The ground gets a little softer here."

Emily had spent her entire childhood visiting museums and historic landmarks with polished floors and playing in private parks so well-designed it was almost impossible to get dirty. She wasn't quite prepared for the sight of the creek- wider than she expected, with a slight drop off of the bank and smooth rocks scattered on either side. Tall Tennessee oaks lined the sides, growing thicker on the opposite bank until they stood so close that the distance looked like a single mass of dark green foliage.

"It's no Trevi Fountain, but it's pretty nice," James said.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, it's nice."

"A lot of the freshmen kids like to come down here and go crawdaddin'," Alex said.

Emily made a face. "What in the fresh hell is that?" she said.

"They catch crawdads," David explained.

"Kind of like little baby lobsters," James added helpfully.

Emily drew back, the pretty creek suddenly losing some of its allure. "Yeah, no, that sounds disgusting," she said, keeping her Doc Martens away from a particularly wet patch of dirt. She paused, a silver glint catching her eye. "What's that?"

James followed her gaze. "Oh, that's the electric fence," he said.

"The electric what?"

"It's a safety precaution," James explained. "The creek marks the boundary of the campus, and they don't want us going out into the forest. Sometimes the orienteering club is allowed to go out there on trips, but never after dark, and they always have like ten teachers and the security team with them."

"The security team?" Emily said. "What the hell kind of school is this?"

"It's to keep us safe," Alex began, but Dave interrupted her.

"It's to keep the Lincoln House kids in line," he said. He picked up a rock and skipped into the creek; it bounced twice before sink with a wet plop. "The charity cases."

"They're not charity cases," Alex said. She sounded weary, as if this argument had already happened in circles a million times before. "And they're not bad kids."

"Listen, Emily, the Lincoln House kids get placed there because they're troubled," Dave said. "And don't argue with me on that one, Alexandra, that's literally on the application form." He picked up another rock and chucked it; it made half a skip before sinking in the water. "They're kids that were getting in trouble or acting out at their old schools, but their testing scores were high enough to get them into St. Thaddeus. That's the goal, try to get those bad kids- don't give me that look, Alexandra- get those bad kids on the right path."

James tossed a rock and it skipped four times, hopping across the water until it hit the shallows on the other side. "Alex is right, though, a lot of those Lincoln House kids are good kids that got stuck in bad situations," he said. "And they're not all charity cases. A lot of parents pay a lot of money to get their kids in St. Thaddeus so they can get their heads on straight."

"Yeah, but you know that that's where all the scholarships go," David said. "And Lincoln House-"

"Hey! You're not supposed to be out this far!"

Emily jumped. A man in a white shirt was striding towards them through the tall grass. To her surprise, Dave waved at him.

"Hey, Marty," he called.

The man in the white shirt approached them, but he was smiling. "Hey, David," he said. "Good to see you, kid." He nodded to the others. "Hey James, Alex. And who's this?"

"Emily Prentiss," James said. "She's new this year, a junior."

"Yeah, she's my new roommate," Alex said, shielding her eyes from the sun.

The man held out his hand; after a moment Emily shook it. "Hey, Emily, nice to meet you," he said. "I'm Marty Bennett. I'm on the security team here. Welcome to St. Thaddeus."

"Thanks," she said.

Marty took a step back, squinting. "You showing her around?" he asked. David nodded. "Yeah, it's real pretty out here. Just remember, don't go past the creek, okay?" He looked at his watch. "You kids should probably head to pickups, it's just about time."

"Oh, shit!" David said. "Yeah, we should go. Good to see you, Marty."

"You want a ride? I got the pargo."

"Yeah!" James said. "Let's go!"

Emily followed them back towards the grass-lined path; a golf cart emblazoned with the St. Thaddeus emblem was parked nearby. She sat down in the back, propping the heels of her boots against the bumper, and held tight to the side as the pargo rumbled and jumped over the uneven ground, away from the creek and the woods, back to the paved roads and the neat school buildings.


Spencer hated getting sent to the office.

It didn't matter if it was Summerlin Elementary, or Copper Creek Middle School, or the apparent relative safety of the head of house. He was a good student, and even though logically he knew that getting sent to the office didn't necessarily mean he was in trouble, he couldn't shake the little kid belief that he was automatically in trouble.

The lobby of Lincoln House was painfully quiet and almost a little bit too cold, the plugged-in air freshener scent pumping too strongly into the room. No students were left to offer conversation and the TV playing a sitcom rerun was muted.

His shoes made little squeaks on the hardwood floor as he struggled to keep up with Hotch's long strides. The sneakers were a little too small and a little too tight, making it even harder to walk fast.

"See how the light's on?" Hotch said, pointing at a sconce next to the door. "Gideon always has that on if he's free for students to come in and talk to him. He's really nice, you'll see."

He rapped smartly on the door. "Come in," a voice called.

Hotch opened the door and gently ushered Spencer inside. Jason Gideon sat behind the old-fashioned wooden desk; he'd swapped yesterday's burgundy sweater for a navy one today, and half-moon reading glasses balanced on his nose. "Hey, Hotch," he said. He tilted his chin to look down at Hotch from under his lenses. "How can I help you?"

"You wanted to bring Spencer Reid back so you can get the rest of his orientation paperwork done," Hotch said.

Gideon took off his glasses, his expression relaxing into a smile as he noticed Spencer half-hidden behind Hotch. "Oh yes, Mr. Reid," he said. "Take a seat. We'll get this straightened out."

Spencer sat down on the indicated chair, sliding around on the slick leather seat. His feet didn't touch the ground. Hotch took the chair next to him, but he was tall for sixteen and looked almost like an adult in comparison.

Gideon typed something on his keyboard and frowned at the screen. "Sorry, this might take a second," he said. "These damn computers."

Spencer fidgeted. One of his shoes had fallen untied, the dirty laces flopping to the floor, and he wiggled around until he could reach it and tie it back in place. The printer chugged to life behind Gideon's desk, spitting out pages, and he picked up a red file folder.

"All right, I think I've gotten this straightened out," he said, spreading the file open on his desk. "I've got the welcome packet you should have gotten yesterday, so that will have a lot of the information you'll need for this afternoon." He handed over a red keychain with a silver key and a black fob. "You'll need these too."

Hotch took the key from Gideon and handed it to Spencer. "What about his ID?" he said.

"I'll call ahead and see if someone can open up the office," Gideon said. "Most likely you can bring him by after pickups, it shouldn't take long for them to take his photo and print it out." He flipped through the pages in the file and frowned. "That should be just about everything. Although...Hotch, can you step out in the hallway for a moment?"

"Sure," he said, unfolding from the chair. "Do you mind if I talk to you alone when you're done?"

"Of course," Gideon said.

Hotch left, the door clicking shut behind him, and Spencer's stomach twisted. He suddenly regretted eating so much sugar for breakfast; the sweet aftertaste in his mouth turned sour. Gideon put his reading glasses back on and rifled through the papers in the file. He had an old-fashioned green lamp on his desk that cast a faint seasick shadow.

At last Gideon looked up. "There's some gaps in your paperwork," he said.

This was what he was afraid of. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

"Now, don't worry. Your application was all filled out correctly, your transcripts are all in order, your testing more than qualifies you to be here," Gideon said. "And you were accepted for a full ride scholarship, there's no issues with that."

Some of the tension drained from his small body. He'd worked so hard to get here- researching on the ancient library computer, filling out the application with the correct black ink and trying desperately to print neatly in his childish handwriting, convincing the school secretary to print out his transcript and his records and folding the fat stack of papers into an envelope to be mailed.

But Gideon folded his hands on his desk, fixing Spencer with his serious gaze, and his stomach dropped again. "Your paperwork is missing parental signatures," he said. "And I understand that neither your mother nor your father have responded to the letters and phone calls from the admission department."

"No, sir," he said, his throat dry. This was it. He was going to get shipped back to Las Vegas.

"Now, since I'm your head of house, I can sign your paperwork in loco parentis," Gideon said. "Do you know what that means?"

He nodded. "In place of a parent."

"If you consent to that, I'll be considered your legal guardian for this semester," Gideon said. "It's a loophole we have here in Lincoln House. You're not the first student to have issues with their paperwork. I'll be able to approve things for you in the duration. But we'll need to get in contact before the semester ends. You understand?"

"Yes sir," he said eagerly, relief flooding his veins. "Thank you."

Gideon smiled and scribbled his signature, flipping pages in Spencer's file to find each marked line. "We'll figure it out," he said. "We need to keep someone as brilliant as you around here. Looking at your transcript, you might even be a child prodigy."

"Actually, a child prodigy is under the age of ten," Spencer said. "I'll be eleven in October so I've aged out."

Gideon laughed. "I stand corrected," he said. He handed Spencer the red welcome packet folder. "Welcome to St. Thaddeus, Mr. Reid. Send Hotch in, all right?"

Spencer nodded and slid off the chair, clutching the folder in one hand and his new keys in the other. Hotch was waiting in the hall, fiddling on his phone. "Mr. Gideon's ready for you," he said.

"Thanks," Hotch said. "Everything okay?" Spencer nodded. "Good. Wait out here for me, we'll catch up with Derek and the girls when I'm done."

Spencer sat down on the floor as the office door closed behind Hotch, flipping through the orientation papers he had missed out on the day before. His relief was so palpable that he couldn't stop jiggling his legs with nervous energy, drumming his heels against the hardwood floor.

Of course, you have to get your parents' attention before the end of the semester, a little voice whispered in the back of his brain, but he rolled his shoulders, physically forcing the thought away. He had four months to figure something out. That was plenty of time. And in the meantime, he'd made it. Months of planning and scheming and hiding, all paying off.

The door swung open and Hotch walked out, straightening out the hem of his red tee shirt. "All right, kid, you ready to go?" he said. Spencer scrambled to his feet, nearly dropping the folder and spilling the pages, but Hotch caught them easily and tucked the folder under his arm.

The heat and humidity outside shocked his system as they walked outside. Spencer looped his fingers through his keychain and spun the keys around. "So I talked to Gideon," Hotch began. "It turns out there was a mistake with your scholarship. Did you know it came with a stipend for your flex account?"

The keychain flew off Spencer's finger and landed in a patch of azaleas; he scrambled to pick it up. "Really?" he said.

"Yeah," Hotch said. "It, uh, hadn't processed yet. Twenty-five dollars a week. So once you have your ID, you can use it to buy stuff in the campus store."

Spencer's jaw dropped. "Really?" he said.

"Yeah, and you can buy gift cards at the store too, so you can use those to buy stuff in town too," Hotch said.

Spencer beamed. "I didn't read that anywhere in the scholarship descriptions!" he said. "That's amazing."

"I'm pretty sure it was in the description."

"No, I'd remember," Spencer said. "I have an eidetic memory."

"Is that the same as a photographic memory?"

"Kind of, but not really," Spencer said. "Photographic memory is limited to just remembering words on a page, typically for a short amount of time. Eidetic memory includes physical images. And memories. Although, realistically, I remember things best if they're spoken to me."

Hotch laughed. "You really are a genius, aren't you?" he said.

"Possibly," Spencer said.

They were heading towards a part of campus that he hadn't seen yet- a soccer field, a baseball diamond, a running track. Hotch caught Spencer's wide-eyed stare. "The football field is that way," he said, pointing down the hill. "We're just going to the gym."

Back home in Vegas, the gym at his middle school was barely regulation size, the painted lines on the floor well-scuffed and the scoreboard half-burnt out. The gym at St. Thaddeus was brightly lit, with blue bleacher seats and banners celebrating basketball and volleyball wins, and the air smelled faintly like a fresh coat of paint. Conversations bounced and echoed off the cavernous walls as hundreds of students milled around.

"Hey, come on, stick with me or you'll get lost," Hotch said. He hesitated. "Want to hold my hand?"

Our hands carry 3,200 bacteria from 150 different species, he wanted to say, his usual response when someone tried to shake his hand. But that was he said to strangers, and Hotch wasn't a stranger, and the crowd was noisy and everyone was so much taller than him, so he tentatively placed his small hand in Hotch's.

That turned out to be the right idea. Hotch was tall- a little over six feet, if he guessed correctly- and taller than most of the other high school kids in the crowd, so Spencer followed in his wake.

Derek, Penelope, and JJ were standing by the far wall, waiting for them. "How'd it go with Gideon?" Derek asked.

"Great," Hotch said. He tugged Spencer forward, placing him in the middle of their group, and let go of his hand. "You guys ready?"

Penelope clapped her hands. "I'm so excited to get my uniform!" she said. "I hope it's cute. I think I'll be cute."

"How does this work?" JJ asked.

"Just follow the line," Derek said. "It all goes in order. But schedules first."

Hotch took Spencer's hand again, keeping him from getting lost in the shuffle as they made their way up to the first table; the bigger kids crowded in front and he couldn't see. "How's your last name spelled?" Hotch asked.

"R-E-I-D."

After a moment a paper was placed in his hands and he smiled as he read over his schedule of new classes. If his old teachers had had their way, he'd be starting fifth grade, reading middle-grade chapter books and working on long division, sitting alone in the bathroom to eat lunch.

His grin widened and he held his new schedule tightly, already looking forward to the moment they handed him his new textbooks.


Dave took the black garment bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "You're not going to check it?" Alex said.

"Nah, I'm sure it's fine," he said. "And if it's not, I still have last year's."

"Yeah, mine don't fit me anymore," James said. He unzipped his bag partially and peered inside. "I tried on last year's pants. Three inches over my ankle. I look like a nerd from a nineties sitcom."

Alex laughed. "I need to see that," she said. "I'm sure you still look fine."

She turned to pick up her uniform, completely missing the dopey grin that spread across James's face as he gazed at her. Dave elbowed him lightly, smirking, and James jumped. "I just need a new blazer," she said. "My brother decided to wash mine when I got home for the summer and it died a horrible, horrible death. He put it in the dryer/. On the towels setting."

"Which brother, Scotty or Danny?" James asked.

"Danny," she said, rolling her eyes. "At least he was trying to helpful. Scotty couldn't do laundry if you paid him."

"You have brothers?" Emily asked.

Alex unzipped her garment bag and checked for the pieces- white button up shirts, red plaid skirts, navy blazer with gold buttons, navy cardigan, a tie. "Yeah, two," she said. "I'm the middle and the only girl, and they never let me forget it." She zipped the bag up. "Don't tell me you're an only child like these two."

"Guilty," Emily shrugged.

"Hey, technically, I'm not an only child," Dave said. "My siblings are just older. A lot older. I was a surprise baby."

"You were a 'we thought the junk had gone bad' baby," James laughed.

"Big yikes," Emily said. She accepted the black garment bag tagged with her name and peeked inside at her new uniform. "So...how strict are they about the dress code here?"

Alex hesitated, clearly searching for something diplomatic to say. "You're fucked," Dave said bluntly. Alex nudged him. "You know I'm right, Alexandra."

Emily made a face. "Seriously?" she whined.

Dave looked her up and down- cobalt blue streaks in her dark hair, black liquid liner in an exaggerated line and black lipstick on her mouth, bracelets jangling on her wrists, artfully ripped jeans that might have cost a fortune and a black tour tee shirt from a band he'd never heard of.

"Yeah, you're fucked," Alex admitted. "We're only allowed minimal makeup and earrings- small ones. Your boots might be okay, but not in that color. And...sorry, but they're not going to like the blue in your hair."

"Shit," Emily said. "That sucks."

"I'll help you dye your hair," Alex offered. "I need to touch mine up anyway." She flipped her ponytail. "The auburn is fake, but I get away with it because it looks natural."

"I like your brown hair," James said.

"Yeah, but it's boring," Alex said.

Dave shouldered his garment bag and picked up his bag of textbooks. "Hey, tell you what, let's go into town," he said. "We can go pick up hair dye for you two. And I'm in the mood to eat lunch off campus."

"Will we be back in time for extracurricular signups?" James asked.

"Of course," Dave said. James still looked hesitant. "It'll be my treat."

"In that case, let's go."

It sucked that the massive parking lot was so far away, in front of the main building and flanking the broad circle drive, but they stopped long enough for the girls to drop off their things at Roosevelt House and made the trek out to his car.

Dave clicked his remote; his black Honda CR-V beeped happily. "All right, a couple rules," he he said as he opened the hatchback and wrestled his stuff inside. "No eating in the car. No shoes on the seats or the dashboard in the car. Driver picks the music in the car."

James tossed his books and uniform bag in the car. "You always drive," he objected.

"Exactly," Dave said, closing the hatchback. "Come on, let's go."

He turned on the AC full blast and connected the bluetooth to his phone as soon as he got into the car; James took shotgun and the girls picked their seats in the back. He made the twenty minute drive to and from campus and his house most of the time- James typically opted to spend nights on campus in Kennedy House and go home on the weekends, but then again James lived in the boondocks, a solid hour from campus, and his sedan wasn't exactly the most reliable vehicle.

The road to town was peaceful, winding roads through mountains and trees, and he hummed along with his music as he drove. "So what's this town like?" Emily asked, leaning forward and leaning on the back of Alex's seat. "I wasn't really paying attention yesterday."

"Another Rossi rule: seatbelts," he said, looking at her pointedly in his rearview mirror. She sank back and buckled her seatbelt. "Auden's Ridge is nice. It's no thriving metropolis, but there's lots of places to shop and it's easy to walk around. They're used to seeing schoolkids everywhere."

"Especially on Saturdays, they'll bus the boarding kids without cars into town so they can shop," Alex said.

"So where are we stopping first?" Dave asked, making the turn off the winding road onto the broader street towards town. "Target?"

"We're not using box dyes, David."

"Yeah, David, what were you thinking?" Emily said, grinning at Alex, and they laughed.

"Fine, fine, just tell me where to go," he huffed.

Alex directed him to a shopping plaza and he parked in front of a beauty supply store. He and James waited in the air conditioned car, playing on their phones now that they had better signal while the girls ran inside. They returned in short order with a bag each, beaming.

"Holy shit, how much stuff do you guys need to dye your hair?" Dave said.

"It's a process," Alex said. "Literally."

He pulled out of the parking spot. "So who else wants to go to Sonic?" he asked.

"Oh, god, yes, please," James said.

"What's Sonic?" Emily asked.

Alex twisted around to look at her, the seatbelt twisting with her. "Okay, question," she said. "How much time have you actually spent in America?"

Emily shrugged. "Lots of trips to New York and DC with my mom on business," she said. "And visiting my grandmother in Wisconsin."

"Oh, okay, so that makes sense," James said. "Listen. Sonic is great. Your life will be changed. We go here all the time."

Alex leaned forward and poked James in the elbow. "James, we need to take her to Cracker Barrel," she said.

"Oh, god, yeah."

"Okay, now you guys are speaking a different language," Emily complained, and James laughed.

Dave parked in an open space at the restaurant and they climbed out, taking over one of the red picnic tables under the overhang. He and James ordered first; Emily stared in confusion at the brightly colored menu.

"Oh, hang on, I left my phone in the car," Alex said. "I'll be right back."

As soon as she was out of hearing distance Emily turned to James. "So how long have you been pining after her?" she asked.

James choked. "I don't...what...uh…"

"Ninth grade," Dave informed her. "He's been pining after Alexandra Miller for almost four years now. And has he asked her out? Not once. Not even to a school dance. Not even prom last year. He went alone."

"You guys really have prom?" Emily said. "I thought that was only in movies."

"What about prom?" Alex asked, catching up to them with her phone in her hand. "God, I don't even want to think about prom yet. Let's get through midterms first at least." She checked her phone, then dropped it in her skirt pocket. "Have you ordered yet, Emily?"

"No offense, but some of these food items sound extremely fake," she said.

Alex laughed. "Here, I'll help you figure it out," she said.

David sat down at the red table across from James and leaned forward conspiratorially. "You know you need to ask Alex out at some point in this school year," he whispered. "You've been putting off way too long."

James turned red. "I know," he whispered back. "But I've still got time."

David grinned. "Let's make this a little easier," he said. "The homecoming dance, in November. If you can ask Alex out, and she says yes, I'll give you a hundred bucks. If you don't ask her out...you have to wash my car once a week for the rest of the year."

"What if I ask her and she says no?" James asked.

David looked over at Alex, sunlight glinting on her red hair as she said something that made Emily laugh. "I have a funny feeling she won't say no," he said.


Author's Notes:

So initially I thought this was going to be a neat and tidy 30 chapters of mostly angst, but after writing so many adorable drabbles on my tumblr about these boarding school babes, the outline has expanded considerably! So...this fic will be long. That's all I know for sure.

Really, though, I am having a BLAST working on this, and I am so delighted at how much people seem to love this fic! I am overwhelmed with the love I've been getting.

This fic will be updated on Thursdays so stay turned. And please let me know what you think!

And I've been really active on tumblr, so you can visit me (themetaphorgirl) and chat with me there, and learn more about this AU! It has its own page on my tumblr now!

Thank you for reading!