Tap-tap-tap. Laura's pen meets the desk as she looks down at her notes. With a heavy sigh, she shifts her gaze over the top of her reading glasses, staring at the young boy in her office. He's all of 10 years' old, and she really had hoped that she was done doling out discipline since this is the last week of classes. It's tempting to let him off with a warning so that she can leave early for lunch, but Denny McDuff is a frequent flyer in her office and mild punishment will do nothing to discourage him from causing more trouble.
"Alright, Denny," Laura says, clasping her hands over her notes. "Tell me what happened."
"What for? You won't believe me anyway," he snorts, crossing his arms and staring at the top of her desk.
"I would like to know your version of the events," she replies in a calm voice.
"Maybe I don't wanna tell you," he grunts, then bites his lips together and glares at her.
She waits for him to speak, asks him again to tell his story, but he sits mute. After a few minutes, she glances at her computer to check the time. Her normal routine is to have lunch with Jean in her office, but today they made plans to meet downtown at a restaurant. If she's going to make it on time, she needs to leave in two minutes.
"Fine, Denny. Since the school year is almost over, I'm not going to punish you now."
"Seriously?" His hands grasp the arms of the chair and he stands to leave, a look of relief on his face.
"Not right now," she clarifies. "However, I see you're taking summer school. You will report to detention for one hour every day after school the entire summer term."
"But I have pyramid practice right after school!"
"Not anymore. Here's your pass. Go straight back to your classroom. And I don't want to see you in here again this week. If I do, I'll extend your detention to the fall semester."
Denny's face contorts, his spirit obviously crushed. "Gods, why are you so mean?"
"Denny, you need to think long and hard about the consequences of your actions. You can't keep getting into trouble like this. Now report back to your classroom before you miss lunch."
The shocked boy stares at her with his mouth agape, uncertain of what to say. Finally, he turns around and slowly slinks from her office with his head down.
"It's so lame that your parents are making you come to school this week," Persephone says as she munches on her sandwich. "You're not really a student here anyway. And university ended last week. Did you argue with them?"
Cheryl lifts her head from the table, barely awake. "I tried. It's like a huge conspiracy to keep me around kids my own age. Mom and Dad are in on it with the school and the therapist, all of Caprica is against me. This is like a weird prison-daycare for me."
"You shouldn't have to be here more than two-and-a-half days this week because that's all that you're normally here. If I were you, I'd demand to be home on Tuesday and Thursday." Persephone always thinks she has the answer to Cheryl's woes, but rarely does.
"Already tried that. I think Mom was open to it, but Dad thinks I would miss you."
"Awwww, I bet you would miss me, puddin' head," Persephone says licking her finger and sticking it in Cheryl's ear.
Cheryl knocks her hand away in disgust. "Gross, stop doing that! Why are we even friends?"
"Because when we were little, I called you ugly and you loved it," her best friend smirks.
"Yeah, right. I went home and cried because you were such a bitch to me. I was just trying to help."
"I went home and cried, too."
"Why? I didn't do anything to you."
"I cried because you were the first kid I met that was smarter than me. And I couldn't handle that."
"Do you still go home and cry? Because I'll always be smarter than you," Cheryl states jokingly, even though it's true.
"I know. I've accepted the fact that you're a freak of nature. Speaking of freaks," Persephone whispers, bumping Cheryl with her arm and nodding toward a nearby table. "Clayton's doing it again."
"Ahhh, geez," Cheryl groans when she makes eye contact with him. "How long has he been staring?"
"About thirty seconds. Watch his hand. Think he can hold out for a minute?"
"No."
"Aaaaannnnnnddd, there he goes," Persephone giggles as Clayton's right hand moves to his crotch, rubbing the front of his pants. "He totally feels himself when he looks at you. It's like he has no control."
"That's so sick."
"You should go out with him. You told me once you thought he was cute."
"I said he was cute when we were 8 years old! Now he's a walking hormone and it creeps me out."
"Maybe you can find a non-creepy boyfriend on our science trip," Persephone suggests.
"Since when have we found boyfriends at science fairs? Most of the boys that go to those things are so shy or weird they barely speak to us."
"True. But this one's off planet. Boys from all the colonies will be there. It could be a meat market," Persephone replies waggling her eyebrows.
"Right," Cheryl snorts. The thought of a science fair meat market of 12 and 13 year old boys makes her laugh. "What if I did meet someone? Chances are he'd live on Sagittaron and we'd never see each other. What kind of relationship would that be?"
"You got something else going?" Persephone knows she doesn't, but she's used to dealing with her stubborn friend. Sometimes she needs a shove in the right direction.
"No. I'm just saying that I'd prefer to have a boyfriend I could see in person every once in a while."
"Hold on, I need to make sure we're clear about this. If some amazingly smart guy, who's super cute, nice, maybe a little bit older, and has the finest butt you've ever seen shows up at the science fair and asks you out, you're going to say no unless he lives on Caprica. Right?"
"How much older?" Cheryl asks as her eyes follow her former therapist across the cafeteria.
Persephone pounces at the opportunity to taunt her friend. "Not that old! Sheesh, you think Clayton's obvious? You should see yourself right now!"
"What?!"
"Your crush on Jason! Gods, he's married, old, and not even that cute. He's only about a six on the hotness scale."
"I don't have a crush on him. I've just known him for a really long time."
"I bet if you told your parents you're in love with him and picture him naked whenever you're at school, they wouldn't make you come here anymore."
Cheryl rolls her eyes at her best friend and shakes her head. "I'm not in love with him, I don't picture him naked, and I would never do that because he'd probably get fired. He's my friend."
"You're friends with a 32-year-old guy? But you don't have a crush? I thought you never lied."
"I'm not lying. He's my friend. He always listens to me."
Laura's heels click on the pavement as she walks toward the restaurant. It's a busy place with outdoor dining and on this beautiful spring day, the closest available parking space is two blocks away, meaning she has to hoof it on the hard cement. Now she wishes she had changed into sneakers, certain she can feel a blister forming by her left big toe.
"Sorry I'm late," she announces her arrival, slipping into the seat opposite Jean, who already has a fresh lemonade and a menu in her hand.
"Here I thought you were standing me up," she jokes.
"I had a discipline problem in my office. Jean, I feel horrible. I just ruined that poor kid's summer. And karma's paying me back by giving me a huge blister on my foot." Laura reaches down and slips off her shoe, rubbing the tender spot by her toe.
"Now I know why you insisted on coming downtown. If your job is making you that miserable, find something else."
"Is it really that easy? I have two kids with private school tuition, possibly a third in another year. If I take a pay cut, we could be looking at public school for all of them."
"I don't know about Joey, but I don't think Emilee or Lauren would get much out of public school. There was a time you liked your job. What happened?"
Laura thinks back to her first year at Campbell Elementary. The highlight of her day was her morning kindergarten class. She didn't even mind updating the curriculum. But after being promoted to Vice Principal, her time in the classroom dwindled as she took on more administrative responsibilities. Now her only contact with students is when they are in trouble and she has to discipline them.
"I guess what happened is I quit teaching. That's what I really enjoyed."
"Can you pick up a kindergarten class again?"
"Probably not without a pay cut. I guess I could make up the difference by working in the summer."
"But that means putting the kids in daycare, so you really wouldn't be making much money. Didn't Bill get a big raise when he was promoted to Colonel?"
"He did. We've been saving it for a down payment on a house. The kids need a big yard to play in."
Jean takes a long sip of her lemonade, waiting for her best friend to draw the obvious conclusion. But Laura doesn't say anything, instead staring at her, wanting her to outline the options.
"I think the answer is obvious, but I'll ask the question anyway. What would you rather have? A house with a big yard, or private school for your kids and a job that doesn't drive you crazy?"
Giving up the dream of a large house with a big yard isn't something Laura has much interest in. "Maybe I could get a job teaching at the girls' school. That would give us a tuition discount and I'd be happy teaching again."
Jeans sets her lemonade down and smiles at her friend. "It's nice to see you again, Betty Roslin. Let's hope your children don't rebel against you."
Laura knew it was a bad idea the second it left her mouth, and Jean's response confirmed that. "I see your point. I'm sorry, I don't mean to make our luncheon all about me. How are things with you?"
"Well, I happen to love my job and Eugene loves his. We are blissfully in tune with one another."
Oftentimes it's what Jean doesn't say to her best friend that is most important. Laura senses this from her and decides to press about what's really on her mind. "But…"
"Children are the only thing missing in our lives. We always thought we'd have at least two kids by now, but we can't seem to get pregnant no matter how hard we try. I've decided to see a fertility specialist next week."
"That's a big step. How does Eugene feel about it?"
"He doesn't know yet. I thought I'd go first and see if the problem is with me. If it isn't, then I'll talk to him about getting checked out. Once we identify the issue, then we can look into our options."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
"I'd like that," Jean says, reaching for Laura's hand and squeezing it.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," the waiter says. "Let me know when you two lovebirds would like to order." He scurries away to the next table to take their order.
"That's perfect. I'll let me husband know I've left him for you," Jean teases.
"You're the wind beneath my wings, Jean. Let him down easy."
Cheryl clicks the mouse and watches the bird fly across the screen, then when it gets close to the correct birdhouse, she violently jiggles the mouse, sending the animated bird into a wall. "Whah-whah," the sounds effects go, then the words "Four more lives" appear on the screen.
After the next bird takes off, she watches it, then at the last second, guides it into the ground. "Whah-whah."
With the third bird, she decides to let it fly half-way before making it turn a 180 and head back the direction it came. It flies past the original perch, and keeps going, and going, and going. She wonders if it's possible for this rogue little bird to break free of the constraints of the program, or if it will eventually crash into a wall, or completely shut down after an error message.
"I hope you fly forever, little bird," she mumbles before grabbing her backpack and leaving the computer lab. Anything's better than farting away the rest of the school day trying to break a substandard computer game.
She wanders the halls for a while, careful to avoid the hall monitor. It's only a matter of time before someone sees her, though, so she decides to head to where the psychologist and guidance counselor offices are located, otherwise known as Therapy Row.
Dr. Martha Posey is on the phone speaking with the parents of a student in Cheryl's class. She waits until the woman turns in her chair with her back to the door before tiptoeing past. Her destination is two doors down, the office of Dr. Jason Little.
Pausing outside to make sure he isn't on the phone or with another student, Cheryl then raps loudly on his door, waiting for his invitation to come in.
"It's open," his voice calls from inside.
Without hesitation, she quickly steps through the door, closing it behind her and sitting across from his desk.
Jason looks at her, then smiles. "Cheryl, what brings you by?" His tone indicates that he may not be pleased she's sitting in front of him.
"Can't I pop in to say hi?"
"Not when you should be in class."
"I don't have any classes here. How can I be in class when I already finished my semester last week?"
"Touche. If you're in need of counseling, you should be speaking with Dr. Posey."
Cheryl runs her hand across the edge of his desk, wondering how honest she dares to be right now. "I don't like her. She's...annoying."
"She's licensed to counsel children your age. My license only covers up to age six. How bad can she be?"
Cheryl pinches her nose shut between her thumb and index finger, then takes a deep breath through her mouth. "Now Cheryl, I see that your mother died when you were three. How does that make you feel?" Cheryl exaggerates the nasally voice of Dr. Posey, but not the subject matter.
Removing her hand from her nose, she then speaks in a normal tone. "I barely remember my mother, Dr. Posey. I have a different mother now, and I love her very much."
Pinching her nose again to create the same irritating tone, Cheryl continues to mimic the woman. "But Cheryl, you must have some feelings about your deceased mother. Tell me about them. Let's talk about the past even though you've moved on with your life. Let's dredge up sad memories and if we can't find sad ones to talk about, we'll create new sad memories. It's my job to make sure you're sad. Because my life is sad, so everyone around me must be sad."
"She's not that bad," Jason lightly chuckles, trying not to laugh at Cheryl's fairly accurate portrayal of the woman's voice.
"She is that bad. I haven't talked about my mom in forever. Why does she insist on bringing her up?"
"You're entering an age that can be difficult. She wants to make sure there are no residual issues that may arise while you transition into your teen years."
"Frak that. I have fond memories of my mom. I'm the luckiest kid on Caprica. I've had not only one, but two great moms. I choose not to dwell on the past because I'm grateful for what I have now. So are we going to play chess, or do you want to see my impressions of the entire faculty?"
For a moment, he wonders if she does an impression of him. He decides he's better off not knowing. "Spare me the impressions."
"Afraid you might laugh?"
That's the other reason he doesn't want to see them. "We can play one game. Then you need to go back to home room."
Jason retrieves the chessboard from a shelf in his office, setting it on his desk between him and Cheryl. She sets up the pieces, then offers him the first move.
They take the first few turns in silence, each one trying to figure out the other's strategy. Then Jason relaxes and decides to probe Cheryl about school.
"I hear you got all As in grad school."
"Yup. Your turn."
After examining the board, he makes his move. "Have you decided on a thesis topic? Or do they make computer engineering majors write a thesis?"
"I have a choice between writing a thesis or creating new technology," she says not moving her eyes from the board.
"And you chose?"
"Both, of course."
"Of course." Jason makes a move, then notices an almost imperceptible smirk on Cheryl's lips. He hasn't been able to beat her at chess in at least five years. Today won't be any different.
"What are you going to do with that degree?"
"I don't know. Probably build my own computers from now on." Cheryl makes a move, but not the aggressive one Jason expects to see. She's trying to delay winning the match to avoid going back to class. This is the other game between them that they often play but never acknowledge, and Cheryl has the upper hand, for now.
"Have you considered continuing your education?"
"Un-frakking-believable!" Cheryl leans back in her chair, giving him a disgusted look. "My sister talked to you, didn't she?"
"She expressed her concerns to me," he confirms.
"You're the one person I've been able to talk to that I've never had to worry about pressuring me, and now my sister's got you under her thumb. I'm out of here!" Grabbing her backpack, she bolts toward the door.
"It's your move. And I'm not under your sister's thumb."
Standing with her back to him and one hand on the doorknob, she hesitates. The anger she feels toward Laura is almost indescribable, like a confidence has been breached. The sadness she feels over losing the one person who has always listened to her is overwhelming. When she makes her decision to exit the room, Jason calls after her.
"That's a forfeit. Five-year win streak down the drain."
While Laura may have crossed the line by speaking with her confidante, Cheryl won't let her screw up her win streak. "Fine. I'll stay." Dropping her backpack to the floor, she marches back to the chessboard, quickly making an aggressive move.
"Looks like you're playing to win now. Why don't you have a seat?" Jason gestures to the chair she was sitting in a moment ago. "Go ahead, take a seat," he encourages her. "I need some time to come up with a counter move."
Realizing Jason now has the power in the other game they play, she grudgingly sits down. "Some days I really don't like you."
"You've told me that before…but you always come back," he replies, giving her a quick glance before he makes his move.
"Maybe I won't after this," she grumbles in response.
"I get one phone call from your concerned sister, and just like that, you don't want to talk to me anymore? You've known me most of your life. Can you think of a time that I haven't had your best interests in mind?"
"I don't like the idea of both of you talking about me."
"I didn't talk about you. I listened to what she had to say, then I thanked her for calling. I would never break a child's trust like that, even one that has aged out of my therapy sessions and is an annoying pain in my butt."
Cheryl works hard to hide her grin, not wanting to give him any satisfaction. "Annoying pain in your butt? That's the best you can come up with?"
"It's your move," he nods toward the chessboard. "And stop stalling for time. I have very important work to do with less annoying students."
Cheryl reaches for a piece on the chessboard, a satisfied look spreading across her face. "Checkmate."
Realizing he has lost again, Jason sighs and surrenders the game to his worthy opponent. But he still has one more move to make in their other game. "Before you leave, I think you might be interested in an old book I found at a secondhand bookstore the other day. Didn't you use to study Earth with your father?"
"Yeah, like forever ago."
Opening the bottom drawer of his desk, he removes a book and holds it out to her. "Here, take this. Consider it a change of pace from the programming and engineering you've been doing. It might make your time here this week pass by more quickly, and it never hurts to broaden your horizons."
The book is old with a worn cover and a crude pencil depiction of the author's concept of the planet Earth - a few large land masses, vast oceans, and a bright star nearby. Cheryl runs her hand over the cover, then quickly thumbs through the pages releasing a waft of old book smell that is usually reserved for antique sections of libraries.
"Thanks. I'll read it this week while I'm here." She turns toward the door, this time opening it a crack before pausing and turning back to him. "Jason, I didn't mean what I said before. You're the only person that truly listens to me. I don't want that to change."
"I assure you it won't. Now take your annoying butt back to class so I can get some work done."