Yeah, okay, that was not so bad.

Julie hugs her when she comes out. "Better than the middle school, at least the two classes of each?" she asks on the way back to the office.

Most of the difference was the teachers but this was a little better, yeah.

"Okay. They can get you a schedule where the first three classes are things we think you can work on well enough at home - maybe math, since that's easy to test to see how you're coming along and you like it, maybe you can do the church art meets instead of art class, and we can take you swimming or hiking or whatever for gym. That gets you a ten a.m. start time, two classes before lunch and two after," says Julie.

The guidance counselor cuts in: "We can have your short answer and essay tests given, uh, magically, though it looked like you did the multiple choice quiz okay and that's most of the assessments. And we can warn your teachers not to touch you if there's nothing like a medical emergency or violence going on. Oh, or if you try to stop somebody inspecting your locker when it's time for that, we have to be pretty strict about those inspections, but if you just stand aside it won't come up."

What's a locker?

"A locker's one of those metal cabinets in the halls," Julie says. "You can keep textbooks and stuff there and sometimes kids think it's a good idea to hide things they're not supposed to have like drugs or weapons, and they check the lockers for those."

Oh. Well. She's not going to do that so it shouldn't be a problem either way.

(She wants to know when they're not in front of people why the kids have drugs, that is kind of alarming what the heck.)

Julie pats her shoulder in acknowledgment of this message. "Glad to hear it," says the guidance counselor. "Written homework might be more of an issue. We brainstormed and think it might work for you to dictate to a peer - especially one who might need tutoring and could benefit from going over your homework answers like that. Would that be a good solution for written homework if your magic doesn't hold up?"

Yeah, that sounds fine.

"Do you have any questions for me?" asks the counselor.

She doesn't think so, no.

"All right! Hope to see you again soon!" he says. Julie escorts her out.

"The kids aren't supposed to have drugs," she says, out of earshot of the school and its departing students, "but some of them like them, and will have them even though it's against the rules - to take themselves or to sell to other kids who want to do that."

Okay. That's bizarre, but not what she was worried about at all.

"Oh, no, not at all. The ones who have medications they're supposed to be taking probably leave them in the nurse's office and visit between classes to get them."

That's not what she was worried about either.

In the institution they drug you if they're unhappy enough about what you're doing, or if you get too upset or something. It's really bad. Having to worry about the other kids being able to do that would also be really bad.

"If someone decides you have ADD they might recommend we put you on something to help you pay attention but they'd have to go through us, they can't just do it by themselves. At least after we've adopted you. The kids aren't going to drug you. They paid good money for those drugs." She shakes her head.

Julie puts an arm around her as they walk the rest of the way home.

She's in a better mood this time, and just goes for a math book.

Julie smiles at that. "I wanna go grocery shopping sometime in the next couple hours, should I leave you behind or bring you along?"

She'll stay here.

"Okay." Julie putters around, turns on some music, and eventually goes grocery shopping.

Math is good. When she gets to the end of the chapter she goes to ride her bike for a bit.

Julie's back before she is, and has decided to unpack the groceries before panicking. "There you are! I wondered where you went. Do you think you could get in the habit of leaving a cartoon note about where you're off to?"

She can do that, yeah. Sorry.