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Parker had run into a bit of bad luck at school. One of the hulking meatheads that prided themselves on bashing people's faces in over at Hillworth noticed that Parker had his own laptop. It had been a mistake really, a simple thing. After coming back to the school, Parker had been careless, leaving his messenger bag open. The small laptop bumped along against his leg, and then, suddenly, he was being held up by the collar of his shirt, a voice demanding that he give it up. There was nothing more precious to Parker than that laptop -- and it housed more of his secrets than he was comfortable giving to some idiot. So he did the only thing he could think of; he offered to build the kid his own. After promising to give it a "racing stripe" and a really "bitchin' speed" Parker set out to pick up some extra bits. He already had a refurbished motherboard and some of the more technical parts, but he was looking for cheap metal and plastic that he could melt down to make the casing. And the monitor? He sighed. It would just be cheaper to buy one.

Popping into the junk shop, he nodded to the owner, a man who he spoke to at least once a week, but whose name he still did not know. "Hey there, Parker," the old man responded to the boy's wordless greeting, "got some new shiny alloys in the back. Think it's some bits and bobs from a broken down sports car or something." How perfect. He could take the overpriced crap that some rich guy had owned and melt it down into something useful and modest.

He nodded briskly to the old man, wrapping one hand around the strap of his messenger bag as he ducked down the nearest aisle. The nuts and bolts clinked as he lifted and dropped them, eying each as if he was looking for something very specific. Cool blue eyes briefly noted a dark-skinned girl with light hair perusing nearby, but he said nothing. She stuck out like a sore thumb in here.

Parker had just extended his hand into the first bin of metals, a fingerless black glove slipping into sight, when the white-haired girl approached him. What was it about him that girls found inviting? He didn't look friendly, he knew that much. Maybe it was just his general lack of physical prowess. Whatever the cause, he found himself staring as an unfamiliar girl, fingers linked in a box of bolts. "Magnets," he echoed. "Magnets attract iron, nickel, and cobalt. So something made with those." He stared hard at her. Meadowview kids lived at home. And she was too young to be in college. If she lived in a dorm with a refrigerator... then she was a Crystal girl.

Parker inched away from her like she was suddenly electric. "Can't you hire someone to answer these questions?" he said, eyes flat and emotionless. He was a fairly passive aggressive, but his response with tipped with a bit more ire than usual. Her smile did little to ease him. After a moment, he looked back at her. "What's your name?" Parker knew more about the older Crystal girls than the younger ones. Perhaps he had heard something about this girl.

And if he hadn't, knowing her name would make scouring the internet for information on her much, much easier. He picked up a bar of metal, looked it up and down, and then tossed it back into the basket. The pieces shuddered, clicking loudly together.

Great -- a helpless little Crystal girl in need of help. Nothing sickened him more. His scowl deepened. Was Daddy too busy to come help her? Didn't these princesses have an entire support staff? Oh, she was probably so proud of herself for managing to walk into a store by herself. However did she manage to open the door?

"They look like metal," he said, stuffing his hands into both pockets. God, she probably did have a personal shopper. Probably a personal a**-wiper too. Probably had never lifted a finger in her entire life. Typical. Someone like her was given a life of prosperity for doing nothing, and someone like him was born into a life of loss and emptiness despite everything he did to try and improve it. How it was possible for people to believe in a just, all-loving God... Parker could not fathom.

A series of vitriolic insults burbled behind his lips, but Parker said nothing. The boy was passive aggressive. He wasn't exactly going to tell her what he thought directly. "Do I look like I'm for sale?" he said. Anger boiled in his stomach. Did she think she could buy him off! Just like that? Oh, the nerve of her. His mouth turned down into a frown. What made all of this worse was that he did need the money. He needed to buy more clothes. He needed to pay back the school for the series of fines they'd levied on him.

But he couldn't just help her. He had to have some ulterior motive, to get something out of it. "Fine. Yes. Pay me, and I will find what you need." He pretended not to see her extended hand and began to walk away toward the back section of the store. "Follow me, Aurora. Tell me exactly what it is you are looking for." He was walking briskly now, fighting eye contact. If he played this right, he might even be able to figure out more about her past, maybe get the hook he needed for his new story. All Crystal girls had something to hide; even if they didn't personally, there was certainly a ghost in the family closet. He'd unearth hers -- even if it required helping her in the meantime.

Parker thought all Crystal girls were stupid. Because he was a stereotyper like that. Aurora was certainly no exception.

"During the Jersey Shore shark attacks in 1916, an eleven-year-old boy was attacked while swimming in the creek behind his house. A man standing on the shore dove into the water to try to save him. The boy's friend scrambled out of the water. And do you know what happened?" He lifted his eyes to Aurora -- she had nice eyes -- but it was only for a moment. He didn't give her the chance to respond. "The kids who saved themselves survived. The man who tried to be the hero was killed by the shark too. That is what comes of good deeds." Parker turned back around, crossing the few feet to a shelf in the back.

There were rows of bins, each one bearing a little white sign with black writing denoting the composition of the metal pieces within. Parker pulled out one, struggled a bit, and plopped it down on the table. He repeated the gesture with two more. He drew his fingers together and tapped on each one as he spoke, "Iron, nickel, cobalt. These are the bins you should look in for the metals. Nickel will probably be the cheapest, and cobalt the most expensive. Since this is a gift for yourself, I assume you'll want the cobalt." He inched the box toward her, flashing his gaze back up to her. Parker didn't care what silly, frivolous reason she gave for wanting the magnets; her lie went unnoticed.

Parker's desire to be incredibly rude to Aurora was momentarily abated when she appeared to be entering into a sort of debate with him. A question of right and wrong? Oh, it made his heart flutter with joy! "What does the person who dies get? Notoriety? Hm, only if you are rich and powerful -- or famous. For every case of someone laying down their life that resulted in great social change, there are hundreds of cases where those same deeds led to nothing, or to an unrecognized death. For every Martin Luther King, Jr. there is a Rudolf Israel Kastner." He reached into the box where Aurora was looking, their hands briefly touching, and pulled out a flat disk with serrated edges. Hm, too violent looking. She probably wanted something shaped like a flower. Parker set it down and continued his point.

"You probably haven't even heard of Rudolf Israel Kastner -- a man who single-handedly saved more Jews during World War II than any other Jewish person. There was a train full of Jews headed for a concentration camp, and Kastner bribed the Nazis to release those people across the border to Switzerland where they could be free." He reached for another piece, but it was badly rusted. "And do you know what happened to him? He was murdered. He was murdered by another Jewish man. A man who claimed that he had saved all those people instead of warning everyone else where the trains were headed. For his act, he was murdered by those he wanted to save. If he would have let the train go, let all those people be gassed alive, he would still be living." Parker dropped the rusted metal back into the bin; it clattered.

Until then, he had more or less ignored Aurora's comment that positive people lived longer. But he had no intention of leaving any point she had made unrefuted. No, Parker was a thorough debater. So he said, "I would rather live a short life of reality and truth than a long life of self-imposed ignorance and delusion." There was no such thing as bad or good. Positivity and negativity were relative concepts. Reality -- that was what Parker cared about. He dug deeper into the cobalt box, pulling out three pointed pieces. They looked like they had come from the top of a fence. He tapped one on the tip, testing its sharpness. "Ow," he muttered, sticking his finger in his mouth and placing the three cobalt points to the side.

Well, the girl didn't do much to support her arguments, but Parker was happy to illustrate the failure of her logic. He set a few more pieces aside, things that he thought she might like: gears with rounded edges, a wagon-wheel shaped bit, a few curvy strips. "There is no such thing as altruism. Even acts of so-called good have some kind of selfish source. A soldier fights in a war because he was freedom for both his country and himself, or he hopes to earn some kind of label as a hero to get more women or feel better. If a person picked up books for someone else, it is because they believe that is what they should do to be well-perceived by society, or perhaps to initiate conversation with a person of interest. Many people who do favors do so because the expect the same in return. Some people feel good when they help others and so their continued assistance can be seen as a way to generate positive feelings for themselves." Parker held up two square pieces, held them up for a better look. One was scuffed and so he threw it back.

Parker was used to people puffing up when he stated his points. He didn't react to Aurora's signs of frustration or anger. He continued to talk as if he were merely telling her the time, or the weather. "Sharing my outlook on the world is my right. I am not trying to shove it on you any more than you are trying to shove your optimistic view of the world on me. If I am acting wrongly, then so are you." A stray hand tucked falling strands of long black hair behind an ear, and the other hand searched deeper into the bin. When it resurfaced, Parker held up two identical thin pieces of iron pinched between thumb and forefinger. "Is this what you want? Most of these pieces are bulky and heavy. If you are looking for decorative magnets, you'll need something lighter."

His messenger bag slipped, and he pushed it back out of the way. "You call it misery. I call it reality." For a moment, he contemplated not touching on the children bit -- but he couldn't resist. Parker would let no point go unrefuted. "Some of the most widely study cases in killers are those of child sociopath, boys as young as five years old have the capacity to kill. I don't see the innocence there." He shrugged, and the hair fell back in his face. This time, he tucked it into the neck of his shirt. Regardless of what Aurora was feeling, Parker did not seem bothered at all. He simply continued to sort through the bins.

While Aurora spoke, Parker took to arranging the metal pieces, grouping them by size and composition. He didn't explain what he was doing to her, but he certainly would in a moment. "You mentioned that people should be 'rewarded for their good deeds.' I merely responded to that statement. I'm sorry if logical reasoning offends you." There was no hint of insult in his voice, no sardonic tilt of syllables, but it was still an insulting thing to say, insinuating that she did not care for rational thought. Of course, Parker firmly believed that she probably only truly cared about new clothes, painted nails, and people telling her how pretty she was... which, of course, she was.

It didn't insult Parker to be called selfish. He quickly interjected, "All people are selfish," and then let her keep going. It was no surprise to Parker that Aurora saw the world through rose-colored glasses. If her family could afford to send her to the Crystal Academy, then she had probably been denied nothing in her life. She probably had a pony growing up, brand new dolls, her own bedroom. Parker slept on a pull-out couch until the day his father was arrested and he was thrown into foster care. Then he had to sleep on a bedmat on the floor of a room packed with seven other boys. Hillworth at least gave him a bed and a desk, if little else. Sharing a bathroom wasn't so bad. He'd never had his own anyway. But Aurora -- she probably did. She had all that and more. It brought a frown to Parker's lips, reminded him of how he had been feeling so much hatred toward her only moments before.

"Is that how you get what you need? You throw money at people?" His mouth fell into a hard line. "I am being a human. I am using my eyes to see the world as it really is. You are living in a Disney movie. The world is not a good place. It is a place on a track for total destruction. We destroy our environment. We destroy each other. We cheat on our spouses. We hit our children. Even the noblest holy man has thought something bad about others. I merely choose to acknowledge the darkness of humanity. You choose to ignore it." He shoved a collection of metals toward her. The pieces were mostly small, dainty things. The heavier, more violent looking pieces had been pushed to the side. What would she want with those? She was a little princess making little princess magnets for her little princess friends. Honestly, with all the money she was throwing around, she could have just ordered some online. They might have even shaped it to look like a unicorn if she asked. She was probably into that sort of childish fluff anyway.