Billi

"Why don't you use your last name?"

"Just call me Dr. Amelia."

The clink of marbles against their neighbors glinted softly in the gentle sunlight that filtered through the shabby curtains of the office. Glass figurines and stuffed animals populated the various shelves that lined the walls of the room. The small room was dominated by an old dusty oaken desk, which Dr. Amelia sat behind. School chairs and desks were pilled up on the other side of the room, giving the office the appearance of a storage space.

"Forgive the appearance of my office, I asked maintence to get rid of these chairs but they've always got other plans." Dr. Amelia smiled, brightening the room. Her hair was a dark color, the shade between brown and black, which didn't really have a name. Or, if it did, not one that was appropriate.

"So tell me, Austin, how do you feel?" The smile again. Austin, a plain looking sixteen year old shrugged, hands in his jacket pockets and slumped down in the chair. "You must be feeling something."

"I'm tired."

"Have you been watching the news lately?" Austin nodded. "How do you feel about those incidents? I've had a lot of kids come in here and ask me about that. About if it could happen to them." Amelia looked at Austin closely. "Do you wonder that?

"No," Austin said quietly, "And I'd rather not talk about it." His gaze shifted from the floor to the shabby curtains on the window, decidedly away from the counselor.

"Alright," Amelia nodded, her eyes never moving away from Austin. "Shall we start with something you are more familiar with? Something relevant? Do you have any good friends?"

"Yes," Austin sat up and looked at Amelia "I do."

"What are they like?" Dr. Amelia smiled, finally engaging Austin into conversation.

"Well, only one good friend. Best friends I guess," a smile played on Austin's lips as if it was not comfortable being there.

"What's your best friend like?"

"He's," he paused, thinking, "hard to explain. We like a lot of the same things... but he thinks that Superman could beat the Flash in a-" He stopped and looked at Amelia. "Got off track didn't I?"

"No, that's fine. Go ahead."

Austin smiled and took his hands out of his pockets. "His name is Billy and he's just..." he looked around the room, thinking. "Perfect."

-

"No way, Flash would beat Superman any day. The only thing he can do is go fast. But look at Superman! All those powers... he can't be perfect at anything."

"But that's why Superman would win in a dirty race. Flash is fast, but not faster than heat vision."

"Whatever, Superman can't aim. He has to squint and by that time Flash is GONE."

Sharp blues and greens surrounded them, speckled with whites, browns and bright colors. Their boots crunched softly on the soil. Damp leaves brushed against them as they made their way higher up the mountain. They broke the tree line and entered a clearing. An endless expanse of short green grass shtretched out in every direction in front of them. The sun splashed down on the sea of verdant green blades.

"I don't know, maybe they'd both tie in the end." Austin said, shrugging.

"Maybe."

They both sat down next to the edge of the tree line, under the shade and shrugged off their backpacks. It was strange that these two would be seen outside of school. Where Austin was plain, Billy was attractive. Where Austin was meek, Billy was outgoing. Where Austin was passive, Billy was aggressive."

"I like it out here," Austin said, leaning on the trunk.

"Yeah, me to. Very relaxing. No people."

"Yep."

"What time do you have to be home?"

"Before my father, you?"

"Doesn't matter."

A breeze drifted across the clearing, causing wave-like ripples to flow along the expanse of green.

"Listen, Austin, I don't like-"

"Isn't it nice out here? Peaceful. I think when I get older I'll build a house in a place like this. The middle of nowhere."

Billy said nothing in response. He looked from Austin to the grass, then the clouds. "Nah, Superman would win." Before Austin could respond, he changed the subject. "So what kind of car you going to get with your middle of nowhere house?"

Austin shook his head. "No car."

"Alright... Motorcycle?"

"I don't like motocycles."

"Are you crazy? What kid doesn't want a car or bike?" No response. "Why not?"

"I just don't."

A bird hopped down from a low branch o the tree and landed a few feet away from them. Billy grinned and shifted, as if to pounce on the bird.

"Leave it alone," Austin's voice was sharp and the bird took off across the grass.

"You know that creek a few miles from here?"

"The one with the log?"

"I walked across it," Billy sat back down and leaned onto the tree.

"You're kiddin'g me," Austin sat up and looked at him. Billy stretched and put his hands behind his head, a smug expression on his face.

"I kid you not, young grasshopper. I made it across."

"You could've killed yourself! Why would you do something like that?"

"Because I can."

-

Austin's house wasn't bad. It was a two-story home, not including the basement and the attic. The attic, his room, was nicely furnished and stretched out over most of the home. Luxurious as the house was, it was always empty. The several rooms throught housed only his and his father. Occasionally, they would have a family friend over, but no one his age or anyone he really cared to speak to. Family was like other strangers.

They moved there a few weeks after Christmas. His father said that it was a present to the both of them but Austin didn't feel that way. It had taken him away from his friends, his brother and his mother. But he had said nothing, as the house seemed to make his dad happy.

Austin sat at the kitchen table. The sun had long since set and he sat quietly, moving his pen across the paper. He wasn't much of a writer. He could do essays alright, a C here and there, but writing for himself didn't come naturally. He could draw a bit, though. Sketches with strange proportions. He could never get perspective down. Upstairs he had notebooks filled with sketches. Of old friends, sunsets and trees.

His pen continued across the paper in broad strokes. The sound of a key sliding into the interlocking tumblers of the door made him look up briefly then back down at the paper. The door squeaked open, keys dropped on the table next to the door and the thud of a briefcase put down resounded through the hallways.

"Austin?" The steps down the hallway sounded shuffled, unbalanced.

"I'm in the kitchen."

"I got a phone call today."

"From a client."

"From your Principal." The steps stopped next to the doorframe leading into the kitchen. Austin felt the burning of his father's eyes against the back of his head but he willed himself not to turn around.

"What about?"

"You skipped school today."

"A mistake-"

"He said it was the fifth time. You think he made the same mistake five times?" The clink of his father's shoes moved towards him.

"I dunno, he is kind stupid-" Austin had turned around and half a second later he was on the ground. White specks of light swam across his vision. A dull ache welled up in the back of his head."

"Don't you dare lie to me." His breath was thick is the stench of alcohol.

Austin got up slowly, using the table for support.

-

"How are things at home?"

"Did you see that movie... the one with the man who had a rocket on his back? The Rocketeer," Austin shifted his gaze back to the window, putting his hands back into his pockets. "I think it was one of the best movies..."

"I agree. But that's beside the point, Austin." Dr. Amelia leaned forward, interlocking her fingers into a steeple. "I think you are trying to change the subject."

"Is it obvious?" Austin didn't look at her.

"Would you rather not talk about it?"

Austin did not respond as he contemplated the dust particles. Each moved and swayed with the slow air currents created by the sunlight heating the ground. He blew gently and watched as they swirled in complex circular shapes and patterns. Each particle was the Rocketeer, rocketing around with the rocket packs strapped to the back of them, zooming this way and that.

"Austin?"

Austin tore his eyes from the window and looked at Dr. Amelia with a blank expression.

"Maybe we should move-"

"Have you ever had a bad dream? One where you just couldn't get away from whatever was chasing you? Or whatever was hurting you? And then waking up only to find you're still in a dream?" Dr. Amelia didn't say anything.

"And when you had that dream then woke up from it, what was the first thing that came into your mind that you can remember? I've got to prevent that from happening again. It was only a dream. I can controll it. That's what people who have lucid dreams do. They are in a situation in their own minds and change it to their will."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Life is like a bad dream." He shook his head. "And there are some who have learned to control it. Rich people. People with perfect lives. Perfect families."

"Are you unhappy with your family?"

"Maybe."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"I don't like to talk about alot of stuff. But you want to hear about my family regardless, right?"

"Yes."

"Then cut your bullshit and tell me to talk about it."

"I don't like that tone."

"These past few years have been a bad dream. I don't like to talk about it."

-

The school had been built in the sixties and the decorations still reflected that. The coloring was too bland, yet it had the 1960s look that screamed out against the computers that inhabited every room and the optical cables that held sockets in every wall. It still looked, though, as if the school had been lifted out of an 80s movie and dropped into reality, complete with the jock and cheerleader hierarchy.

Athletics, like any puclic school in a rural location, was of the upmost importance followed by social status then grades. As Austin lacked any athletic ability