David was among the first set of students who flooded the hallway that Thursday afternoon after the last bell. He only had thirty minutes before he had to report to detention, and after the bathroom and getting something to eat from the vending machine, he went down to the administrator offices and loitered around, particularly outside the recruitment room. He didn't go in, but stood just outside the door, glancing every now and then through the glass windows behind him, but unable to see much between all the posters and flyers.

Students went in and out the open door and streamed past for about twenty mins, before someone walking out made a sharp left turn. Not expecting David to be there, Drew Boutan almost collided with the smaller boy all dressed in black on his way out.

"What are you doing here?" Drew asked roughly, pulling up short.

"Minding my own business," David said evenly in reply.

Drews lips twisted briefly in a sneer at the other's cheekiness. Drew moved around him, gazes locked as if they were keeping an eye on each other, then at a safe distance they both turned away at the same time. Drew walked off, and David turned back just in time to see Jason came out of the office carrying his thermos.

"Hey," he said, looking genuinely glad to see David. "Your friend Drew was just here."

"He's not my friend," David said, with no malice or distaste, just stating fact. He glanced down the hall. "Is he joining?"

"If he's not your friend, why do you care?" Jason asked teasingly.

"Someone once told me you didn't even have to know someone to care about what they do."

Jason's mouth opened, in surprise and speechlessness. David met his gaze almost smugly.

"Alright, you win," Jason said, sounding impressed. "I can't argue with myself, can I?"

"Might be fun to watch you try," David said.

Jason tapped him gently on the head with his thermos. "The backtalk is strong with you."

David lowered his head, ostensibly to rub a hand over the tapped spot, but also to hide his expression. When he lifted his head, his face was once more cool and neutral. "So?" he asked. "Is he?"

"Thinking about," Jason said. "Wouldn't be a bad fit either. But honestly, I was surprised," he added, standing beside David and crossing his arms, he looked down the hallway. "I thought he'd want to continue his football career."

"Is there a physical requirement to join?"

"Why?" Jason asked, glancing down amusedly at David. "Are you thinking of coming, too?"

"Shut up," David said, making the other man snicker. "Is there?"

"There is," Jason replied, still smiling.

David glanced down the hall after the other boy. "Then I don't think he's going to be a good fit after all."

It was said quietly, and in the noise of the hall almost lost, but Jason caught the words and looked down at the boy more seriously. "Why do you say that?"

David glanced up at him, then away and shrugged. It wasn't his place to say. He adjusted the bag strap on his shoulder. "I have to go."

"Detention?"

"Yeah."

"Have fun."

"Shut up."

Jason laughed as David walked away. He turned to go in the opposite direction, towards the teacher's lounge, but paused and looked down the hallway. At the end Drew had stopped with some friends. Jason looked at him, thinking about what David had said. He hadn't known the boy long, but by now he knew that David never said anything without reason. Did he know something others didn't? He kept saying he and the quarterback weren't friends, but clearly there was history there.

Jason sighed and shook his head. "You're a puzzle, David Otto," he murmured, turning and walking down the hallway, thermos in hand.

**

At the other end of the building David walked into the English room just as he had the last three days that week. Today, however, instead of sitting behind his desk shuffling papers, the English teacher was standing by the window, dressed in a dark blue cardigan with his hands in the pockets. His back had been to the door, but hearing David he turned and a close-mouthed smile stretched his face, making him squint even more and exaggerating the lines around his mouth and eyes.

"David," he said pleasantly. "We meet again."

The seventeen year old paused at the door, unsure what to do with the man's dramatic playfulness.

Baily chuckled. "Come in, come in," he said, gesturing with a hand. "But before you get to your work, come and join me for a minute. I'd like to talk to you."

David sighed internally as he came in and dropped his bag at a desk. He was well acquainted with the "talks" of teachers, and for that matter every adult in his life. It was invariably about his missing class, missing tests and quizzes, how he was ruining his future by wearing nail polish and dying his hair. They always brought it back to the way he dressed but could never explain the correlation to his failure as a responsible human being. But they were convinced that all his problems would resolve themselves if he didn't wear shirts with bones on them and took out his ear piercings. If only life were that simple.

He joined the man at the window, and they stood side by side. They both curved in the opposite direction: Baily, with his waist slightly pushed forward and back arched; David, hands in the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt which featured the half melted mascot of his favorite band, his back slightly curved so that he curled in on himself, even while standing.

"How are you, David?" he asked.

"Fine."

"No, you're not." Baily smiled when David looked at him. "It was a silly question, because I know it hasn't been fine for you for a while." He sighed when the teenager looked away. "The adults in your life have failed you, and I'm no exception."

David shrugged, as if to say, What can you do? These things happen.

Baily, over six feet tall, had to look down at the teenager, who was about five feet, eleven inches. He saw a bowed head and inky black hair. Last month it had been a dark green, the month before an iridescent blue. Baily had seen the hair dyed all the colors of the rainbow—sometimes all at once—but he still remembered its original yellow blond, shining on the head of a five year old David running around at a founder's day picnic. Twelve years later, looking at the black hair, pale, drawn face, and dark guarded eyes of the teenager that boy became filled Baily with a profound sadness—and no small amount of guilt.

Grey brows furrowed. "I've made excuses to myself—I'm only a teacher, there's only so much I can do, it's not my place to interfere. But that was wrong, so wrong."

The dark head didn't lift, and no response came. David had long ago come to the same conclusion. He had just stopped caring.

"I'm truly sorry, David," Baily continued, his voice lowering with emotion. "I don't expect forgiveness, lord knows I don't, but...I hope you'll let me help you now."

There was a silence so long that Baily was about to ask again, when David spoke, his voice barely above a whisper: "How?"

The old man let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "In the only way I know how," he said. "By helping you graduate."

"I don't think it's possible for me to do that anymore, sir."

"I beg to differ. There's a semester left next year, and with some hard work and determination, we can get you that sheepskin."

"It won't matter."

Gray brows once more drew together. "Why?"

David didn't answer, just lifted his head slightly and gazed out the window, at the dark tops of trees in the distance, and the expanse of blue sky above.

Baily's frown only deepened when realization came. "You're going to put us in your rearview mirror when you turn eighteen, aren't you?"

David shuffled his feet and said nothing.

"What about college?" Baily asked, in some desperation now.

"I'm not going."

The man opened his mouth, intending to ask, And what do your parents think about that? but stopped. Taking a deep breath, he turned and squinted out the window.

David, half expecting the unasked question, glanced up at the man with something like surprised respect when it didn't come.

"Then," Baily began, "what are your plans for the future?"

Something popped to mind, and almost without thinking, a small smile curved the ends of David's lips and he said, "Maybe I'll join the military."

"What?"

The boy ducked his head and pulled the smile from his face. "Nothing."

Baily looked at him, squinting with something more than just bad eyesight. "Is that an inside joke?" he asked, keeping his voice light. "With one of your friends?"

David shrugged.

"Or with that Travis fellow?" He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw David's back stiffen slightly. It was hard to tell with his oversized hoodie. "I've seen you with him. And he even mentioned you once, said you reminded him of himself at this age." He paused, looking at David's reaction, which was only a fleeting quirk of the lips. "Are you two friends?"

"No," David said, looking away, and doing both a little too quickly.

Baily frowned. He didn't think that Travis' interest in David was inappropriate, but maybe the same could not be said on David's part. It was worth keeping an eye on but didn't need to be addressed right now. "Alright then," Baily said. "So, back to my original question: what are your plans for the future?"

David shrugged.

"Then, why not college?"

"I don't know what to study."

Baily paused, thinking, and suddenly something came to mind. "You used to babysit for many years, and I remember you being quite good. Why not childhood development?"

The reaction was the opposite of what Baily wanted; David froze, his back stiffening noticeably and his voice taking on a hard edge. "I don't do that anymore, and I don't plan to. I have a lot of work to do, so—"

"Fine, fine," Baily said, catching the boy's arm to stop him turning away and then letting go. "Then you can audit."

David paused, half turned away. "I can't pay for it."

"There are scholarships. I can help you find them and fill them out."

David looked up at him, eyes deep and clear and lit from the sunlight through the window beneath a fringe of black hair. "Why are you trying so hard?"

The question caught Baily off guard, and he blinked, but he still had answer. "Because I care."

David looked at him, his expression unreadable, but perhaps he was remembering someone else say those words to him, someone who did not know him as well as this man who had been at his house for family dinners knew him.

"I won't have any time," David finally said, "what with my drinking and smoking and other delinquent activities."

Baily's lips twitched with a smile. "You'll have to leave it for the weekend like everyone one else, then," he said. "Though we both know you don't do any of those things, no matter what Crowley says."

Dark eyes and pale blue met in the empty classroom, one deciding, one hopeful of the decision. Baily made one last play. Placing his hands on David's narrow shoulders, Baily pinned his gaze, impressing his words with his touch.

"The world can be beautiful," he said, his voice low. "It can also be ugly; I think you know that more than most around here. Let me help take some of the ugliness out of it, so that whatever you decide to do in life, you won't ever have to return to high school."

"I..." David had already made up his mind, but the man's phrasing had the desired effect, and instead of letting him down easy, what came out instead was: "I'll... think about it."