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The only clothing that Parker was willing to subject to the rigors of landscape dute were old, ratty t-shirts. His long sleeves shirts were some of his favorite things to wear and therefore not fit for the task. Not to mention, even if he did try to cover his arms, it would do no good. Invariably something would happen to get him filthy and covered in manure, always did. Compared to Howl, Parker looked like someone who was trying a new facial exfoliant. Smears of brown covered his arms, his neck, and a few speckles dotted his face. He wasn't the most immaculate person anyway, but this was a bit ridiculous. Parker was simply happy he didn't end up with any in his mouth. Like last time.

Dumping another handful, Parker wiped at the sweat on his forehead again, never satisfied by the pooling drops. It made him feel like bugs were crawling on his skin. Creepy. When Howl spoke again, he perked up, tuning in on the conversation and trying to tune out the dripping sweat. Where Howl glistened, Parker oozed. "Destiny," Parker said, a dark laugh ringing in the words. "Do you really believe in destiny?" It was as illogical as believing in the Tooth Fairy in Parker's eyes, and though he didn't know Howl well, he had sort of assumed that the kid wasn't that delusional. His mother had never encouraged that kind of frivolity, even when he was a kid. She was nurturing, but realistic. She told him Santa Claus was an embodiment of Christmas spirit, but that she was the one buying all the presents. When Parker went to class and essentially destroyed the hopes and dreams of a room full of second-graders, she had made him promise to keep it a little secret between the two of them. Even back then, Parker had a hard time believe in predestination, magic, or any other kind of delusion of the mind.

Not much had changed.

Even with a smile and a chuckle from Howl, Parker felt a little judged when the boy appraised his filthiness. His mouth worked into a hard line. "I'm used to it. I just head straight to the showers," he explained, getting to his feet. The bag of manure was nearly empty, and they would need another. Crossing the small space of grass, Parker leaned over and hoisted the bag into his arms with a grunt. It was heavy, very heavy, but he staggered forward anyway, moving a bit too quickly to look buff.

Struggling awkwardly to flip the bag to the ground, Parker staggered forward, finally dropping the manure with a heavy thud. He popped his head up just in time to hear Howl's comment. On this, he could totally agree. "Yes, of course," he said, as if Howl had merely repeated the words that had come from Parker's lips moments before. "Chaos Theory." Offering no other explanation, he hoisted the small hand shovel into the air and stabbed it into the bag with a bit of gusto. Tossing it aside, he worked one finger into the slit and ripped the hole wider to allow his hand inside.

Howl was an agreeable enough person, certainly a better alternative for this task than many others would be. It seemed like a small celestial mercy. "Things like Hillworth happen," he added with a shrug. More than anything, Parker wanted to get out of this place. He was convinced that some kind of better existence would come to him if he could only break free from Destiny City. He was hopless, hapless, meandering -- certainly not living up to his potential. And how could he? In a school that fed on the misery of its students, Parker was a prime source of energy. He hated it. Hated everything about it.

Working a large handful into his palm, Parker returned to the ebb and flow of the activity, filling in the empty spaces. If he was too sloppy, they would make him do it again, or do another flowerbed as punishment. He had no intention of letting that happen. "Have you thought about what you will do once you get out of this place?" It was a more engaging question than Parker usually asked, but the topic was on his mind. Might as well discuss it out loud with someone in a similar situation.

A bug caught in the bag crawled up Parker's wrist, tiny feet ticking up a harried pattern across the fine hairs of his arm. Parker flung his hand down on it in a flash. The bug was squished flat, but in his haste, he managed to not only further smear his arm in manure but also spray some on his shirt. It trickled down without staining, but a burst of the scent ricocheted up his nose. Great. Howl looked as prim as a freshly watered rose, and Parker smelled and looked like some kind of squished rodent. Not one to worry about appearance, Parker shrugged it off and went back to work as if nothing happened. It could've been worst. Last week, he managed to swallow a piece on accident. Enough said.

Recovering from the bug-swattage, Parker lifted another handful, puzzling over what Howl had said. Was Parker being confusing? He simply meant the undefinable future and was comfortable with Howl defining that however he might like. If he needed further clarification, of course, he had no problem giving it. "Just... the future," he explained, wiping at his forehead. "I know what I plan to do the first thing, the first month, and I have a rough idea for the direction I'd like my life to take. Don't you?" Many of the thugs of Hillworth were simply going to populate the prisons of Destiny City upon graduation, Parker was sure of that, but he thought that Howl might be a bit different, a bit more like him. Surely he had fantastized about life beyond these walls, yes? Parker's face reflected none of his internalization, his hands quickly falling into a familiar rhythm beside Howl's.

Judging from the polite manner that Howl oozed, it didn't really surprise Parker that he was college-bound as well. He had that air about him, the "I'm not like all these others" thing that made Parker gravitate toward him. And literature was a respectable field. Certainly more respectable than psychology or communication -- didn't everyone want to major in one of those? "What do you like to read?" Parker asked, using his weight to flatten the latest handful. "I typically read nonfiction, but I've been looking to find a fiction author to follow, preferrably one that utilizes hybridity between storytelling and some kind of study of sociology, psychology, or philosophy. The last fiction book I read was two years ago -- Catcher in the Rye. Do you have a recommendation?" It was a good book. Parker liked Holden Caulfield. Part of him felt like he could even relate.

If Howl had a suggestion to share, Parker would check it out. He spent a good deal of his time at the public library, anything to get out of Hillworth, and every now and then, he liked to take a break from his nonfiction texts and pick up something a little less black and white. It wasn't that he got tired of his typical reading material; he simply enjoyed adding a new flavor into the mix every so often. Drawing in a breath, he lifted the bag of manure once more, dragging it a few feet in his direction. The spot they had started on was practically full, and it was time to transition to the other half of the flowerbed. Letting it fall with a hollow thud, Parker dropped back to his knees and continued to work, the sun still burning brightly overhead.

Indeed, Parker did not think it was very scholarly of Howl to not have a recommendation to make. His opinion of the boy dipped slightly, but he continued working, thin muscle on his arms contracting and relaxing. The conversation quickly moved away from the topic, leaving Parker little time to ruminate on the other boy's shortcomings. "College, for starters," he said, pausing to wipe at the sweat dripping into his eyes. Long hair had its drawbacks, a fact that Howl was probably much more aware of. "I want to get my PhD and move up northeast. I like cold weather, the academic scene is philosophic, there is a good writing community." He nodded along with each statement, as if it reinforce it.

His future was something that Parker thought about quite regularly. He had no idea how long he would live, but he wanted to get out his first great philosophical work before that day. After the PhD and the first book, Parker had no idea what he wanted. Family? He doubted it was in the cards. His own family life had been largely painful; it was not a situation that appealed to him. "I'd like to travel. The world is big. I want to experience other ways of life. It is key to a well-rounded mind." Many of the great thinkers were travelers too, testing out their theories in different lands. Parker shrugged. It seemed silly to voice his intended future out loud, as if by speaking it he might set forces in motion that would see it all foiled. The thought depressed him, and so Parker ruminated on it more, hands still working with the manure.

Across the stretch of grass, Parker could see one of the administrators waving his arms around and shouting at a small redheaded boy. Usually when that happened, it meant someone was not doing the job well enough. Which usually meant one thing for Parker. "DAMMIT!" Parker was on his feet and peeling the manure-covered gloves off in a few short motions.

"He's talking to me," Parker said, glancing down at Howl. It wasn't the most pleasant way to leave a conversation, but shoveling manure wasn't the best activity in the world to get to know someone else either. Howl was a decent guy, a lot better than most Parker met. He could respect the quiet contemplation, even if the excessive politeness was a bit unnerving. "Good luck with... the s**t." He laughed, but it was not mocking, just resonate.

The administrator started to march over, fist in the air. "Are you deaf, Dammit? DAMMIT!" Yep, it was certainly time to go. Giving a quasi-apologetic shrug, Parker stalked off in the other direction, stumbling once over a shallow hole. The administrator continued to shout, leading Parker farther and farther away from Howl to work on another task until the pair was out of sight.