JAGGER LEAVES EARLY in the morning for his work at what was once my place of education. He tells me that he will attempt to determine how far my parents and supervisors have advanced in pinpointing my location. 

     That's why Jagger hasn't gotten through high school, you know, Sommer writes, twisting her hair with her free hand. He's not dumb, just has to work to pay our bills. No time for studying.

     Titus tells her to remain at the house with me so that he can soothe the feathers of the students about the recent event. He will deduce whether it would be logical for us to return to their school.

     Titus could have passed years ago too, but he has a deal with the foster home that he can only live there if he's going to school. He has nowhere else to go really.

     "Would he not be welcome here?" I inquire.

     Well, only if he absolutely had to. Really, we shouldn't have you here either. It's risky.

     "Why is that?"

     I know what we could do today!

     She rises, rushing up the stairs. I stumble in an effort to reach her pace. Taking my wrist, she nearly drags me into the washroom, seating me on the chair before the mirror. She grins viciously, a pair of tweezers in hand.

     "You will not poke at my face," I state. She pouts. "I refuse to be plucked as though I am a butchered bird."

     Pleeeeeease?

     "No."

     But those eyebrows...

     "What is wrong with them?" I study my reflection critically.

     You have no arch.

     "They appear perfectly ordinary," I state defensively.

     Please let me fix them. I promise it'll make your face look 10 times better.

     I give in. Naturally.

     "Will I be provided with a numbing agent?"

     She grins, squeezing the tweezers.

***

"...but, to my surprise, there he was. I nearly knocked us both to the ground."

     Sommer giggles at my recounting of a memory. I did make up the odd detail here and there, I must admit, for entertainment purposes. Her laughter creates warmth within my core.

     I rub my stinging brow. Sommer has finished plucking my face, which I do not believe has made the slightest difference in my appearance, but she appears satisfied so I do not question her actions. She sits on the counter top, running a comb through her hair, soft and smooth, with not a strand out of place. Watching the pink comb appear through the thick strands of black is calming, the knots gently coming loose, gleaming off the golden glow of the ceiling light. She separates her hair directly down the center of her head and begins to braid one side. I watch her curiously. She notices my glance, gesturing in a way that asks if I would like to attempt braiding. I agree.

     She demonstrates for me, taking three strands at the top of her head and overlapping them. I hold three strands on the other side, taking a moment to twist the soft hair with my fingertips. I note the order in which she has overlapped the hair. She continues to demonstrate for me. 

     Right strand over the middle strand, left strand over the middle strand.... 

     Repeated, while continuing to add hair to the sections. She smiles and nods at me encouragingly through the mirror.

     Right over middle, add hair. Left over middle, add hair. Right over middle, add hair. Left, add. Right, add. Left, add.

     I continue to braid in a rhythmic pattern. In an effort to remain gentle, it appears I have not pulled the hair tight enough; strands fall from their twists. Sommer takes the strands from me and completes the braid flawlessly on both sides, tying it with an elastic and wrapping a bright ribbon in a bow around it.

     You did pretty good.

     "Ha-ha."

     You did!

     "You are much more advanced in your hair styling methods."

     She shrugs. Let's go outside. I wanna show you something.

***

There is an old wooden bridge that leads across the river (where my watch met its fate) that connects to a path on the other side of the forest. The rushing water splashes against my denim, soaking through the torn parts--cold against my skin. Sommer runs her fingertips along the handrails, glancing back at me with a smile, a small leather bag containing her notebook slung across her shoulder. I return the smile, glancing through the trees curiously.

     We continue to walk, our paces slow, taking in the magnificence of nature. She leads me past a wall of trees, where the land has been sunken into a series of dips and creases, a beautiful meadow of clovers.

     Removing her shoes and sweater in one swift movement, Sommer runs to the center of the field, skipping across the meadow barefoot. Her braided hair bounces against her shoulders. She smiles brightly, her eyes gleaming like the sun, bright-eyed and carefree. She raises her arms and tilts her head backward, closing her eyes in a salutation to the sky. She lies on her back in the grass, crossing one leg over the other. I take a seat beside her.

     This is my favourite place. It's so peaceful. She stares up at the sky, as though it is a cinema screen. I see so much in the sky, don't you? It's hard to believe that anything can be endless like the sky is.

     "Strictly speaking, the sky is not, in fact, endless," I correct her. "The earth's atmosphere expands a mere 480 kilometers, an intensely small fraction compared to the rest of the universe."

     I'm talking about the whole universe. Isn't it weird for you to think about how big it is?

     "No, I can't say so. However, I will admit I do not understand everything about our universe. But the human race shall understand it one day."

     Sometimes I wonder if we ever will understand. She doodles in the margin of her paper in thought. There are so many questions. Some of them I don't think we'll ever answer. Humans will come and go, just like the other species did, and we'll never ever know for sure.

     "Science will, one day, advance to the point where we will be able to answer the questions to which we cannot physically see, such as the vastness of the universe."

     When you look up at the sky, do you just see the clouds, sun, moon, and stars? Do you only see the makings of our galaxy? I can't help but wonder if there's more out there. That's why I don't think we'll ever know everything for sure, because there's so much that we can't even see.

     I glance at her curiously. She squints, shielding her eyes with her notebook, staring at it, as if searching for an answer within its gleaming rays. She looks to me, turning to lay on her side.

     "You are a very deep thinker."

     She smiles. Thanks. I have a lot more thoughts than I express. Usually, by the time I have them written down, people have already lost interest in what I have to say.

     "That is a shame. They are missing the ideas of a very intelligent individual."

     Oh, stop. She blushes, hitting my leg playfully. I used to think purebreds like you were emotionless robots, but you're a softie.

     "I am a rare species, it seems."

     Underneath those big words, you're just like us. She plucks a clover, twisting it in her fingers.

     "You are correct, Sommer." I weave my fingers through the cool grass.

     Now if only the rest of the world would agree.