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Calintha had been doing well. She'd been doing remarkably better than last semester, both in terms of her academic performance and her general attitude in school. Dr. Westerman wondered if it was because she just needed a good summer vacation to get her mind settled on things. He really had no clue what sort of things you could do during the summer in this town since he hadn't been awake to see Destiny City during that time of the year, but he hoped there was something good.

With that in mind, it was natural that he answer the door with a genuine smile when Calintha knocked on it, and waved her inside. He was sat down and had his feet up on the desk in the same instant. There were a few more turtle figurines guarding his paperwork last year, and, just like usual, a box of doughnuts was open and waiting for visiting students to take one at the end.

"So," began the professor, "what brings you here this time, kiddo?"

He was clearly not expecting any bad news.

Dr. Westerman didn't seem to catch on to Calintha's nervousness, then again he never really was very observant of those things. Almost like he was off in space most of the time, though that didn't seem like quite the right way to describe someone who was otherwise as educated and grounded as he was. Whatever the case was he was sitting there with his usual easygoing demeanor, pushing the doughnut box towards Calintha as she took her seat.

Normal so far, right?

"Tell me what in person?" he asked nonchalantly, as he plucked the package up from the desk. He experimentally weighed it in hands for a moment, then carefully turned it around and examined its sides as if he could get some insight as to what it was by looking at the packaging -- which was fairly normal, slightly dull even, and didn't tell much. So, he set it back down on the desk and began to peel it open, looking sort of bemused.

It was funny. Calintha and everyone else at the school knew that this man was a teacher. It was easy enough to see, and for plenty of her classmates he was pretty likable, giving his lectures with that laid-back tone of his and regarding his students in a nearly familial manner. He seemed to enjoy his work even though some of the software and equipment involved sort of baffled him, and in spite of the hilarity that sometimes ensued from those struggles, people still listened and generally understood when he talked. Dr. Westerman was a decent teacher.

And yet, it was still easy to forget that he was a scientist.

When he opened her gift it served as a brief reminder as to why he had that Ph. D certification hanging on the wall of his office. The little vaguely sausage-shaped bloom of coral made a spark of interest flash across his eyes, and his gaze flicked from Calintha and back to the coral as she explained what it was. The coral was oddly endearing, and so was the student's rambling, and when she was done there were a couple more feelings present in the teacher's features: genuine, educated appreciation for the gift, and pride.

He was proud. He was proud of how much Calintha had improved. He was proud of the research she had done, he was proud of how she was performing in his class. He was --

before I go?

"Where are you going?" he asked, stupefied.

Dr. Westerman was supposed to keep a professional air about matters like this. He was supposed to handle them in stride, keep a neutral attitude at best and send them off with his best wishes along with them. This wasn't meant to be anything personal, and his outward attitude was supposed to reflect that.

... Dr. Westerman looked like a kicked puppy.

This wasn't fair, and he he took a brief moment to reflect on how much he hated the school board for giving the final push on Calintha to make a decision he had spent months sorely wishing she wouldn't. She couldn't drop out of school, she was too smart for this, and yet here he was watching her state her intent to waste all of her amazing goddamn potential. Maybe if he offered his support in an appeal, they could...

No, that wouldn't work. And he knew he was kidding himself before he had even finished that thought.

"I guess I can't stop you if that's really what you're set on doing, Cali," he finally said, slowly, looking a little awestruck at his own words as he was saying them. It would have been a point of redundancy to say he was deeply saddened by the whole thing, as it was already very evident that he was.

"Look, Cali..."

The sad puppy face seemed intent on persisting. Perry quietly swung his heavy hiking shoes off of the table, straightened up his posture a bit, rested his forearms a table and considered his next words through a long sigh. It was starting to look like an episode of Twilight Zone in here. While the whimsical decorations and photographs on his desk didn't disappear, the normal atmosphere of the room had. Normally entering Dr. Westerman's office felt a bit like what students imagined stepping into an acquaintance's college dorm might feel like: welcoming, hospitable easygoing. Now it just was seemed... well, it seemed professional.

He folded his hands, and watched his index fingers tap together. It wasn't often he was at a loss for words.

"You and I both know you're too smart to give up on this."

And, there he went...

"But maybe dealing with high school isn't a good option for you right now. It sounds like you already got too much on your plate, and no amount of trying to make this easier for you is going to fix that." His brow furrowed and he looked back up, one hand resting flat against the desk. "However, dropping out's not necessarily the end of the line for you, okay? You can still test for a GED. There's... community colleges out there, that are more flexible when it comes to scheduling. But the bottom line is, leaving this building isn't you leaving an education forever, if you don't want it to be."

He leaned back a bit and crossed his arms, his eyes trailing over his desk until stopping on one of the photographs he had on there -- a small group of people were grinning out at them both, possibly colleagues he worked with during his research days. He wasn't grinning back.

"I just don't want you to leave this room without knowing that you're not walking away from all your opportunities forever. Can you do that?"

That was quite a sting to the teacher's ego, as much as he tried not to show it. It was easy -- all too easy -- for him, given his background and disposition, to assume that the only way to live in this world was with a formal education. Needless to say, he often forgot that plenty of people got on just fine without one. And even though Calintha's decision was worrying him terribly, she struck him as one of those kids that could. She was smart. She had a game plan.

Not to mention how talking about her game plan made her so damn happy.

It was probably wrong of him to try and impose his own over hers. This would be a wound to his pride he'd be nursing for a couple of days, which he silently admitted with an awkward, sad little smile. "Sounds like you've had this whole thing all planned out for a while, kiddo."

Then, somewhat suddenly, he lifted his arms from the desk and started rummaging around its admittedly-somewhat-disorganized contents, evidently in search of something. It took a moment, but he eventually found something that worked: a notepad, and a pen that took a second or two of annoyed test-scribbling to get it to work. "That's my home number," he explained, upon writing it out, tearing it off and passing it over. "It's useful for when you find yourself in a bad situation, got it?"

Perry glanced up at the clock as Calintha did: all the students would have left by now if they weren't up to something extracurricular or something sneaky. He was tempted to offer the girl a ride to work, and just about did, but figured before he asked that she would probably have told him no. There were still a few things for him to take care of in his office anyway, as much as the place tended to look like there wasn't much work to be done in it besides some organizing and dusting off of crumbs.

Wordlessly, he got up and pulled open the door to the office for her, gesturing for her to leave with a small wave towards the hallway. "Go on, get out of here before I lock you in and keep you hostage until you change your mind."

Then her former instructor put a hand on her shoulder -- presumably to lead her out, but it was also gently reassuring, as he nudged her towards the door.

"Take care of yourself, kiddo."


[FIN]