Regina was unsurprised to see John sitting on the same bench as last time in the Japanese garden, staring directly at a peculiarly shaped rock that jutted out of the pond. If he weren't wearing a different outfit, it could have been the exact same day. Tom was with her somewhere, technically speaking—he had seen some old middle school friends and gone to catch up; he wagged his finger at Regina, warning her not to talk to strangers. Regina sat down next to him, mimicking his posture, and waited for him to speak.

"You know, this rock has probably been there since before we were born. Hundreds of people, some of whom are dead by now, have sat on this bench and admired the same rock. And chances are, this rock will outlive us too. It's comforting to know that some things never change," John offered after a few minutes. "Where's Tom?"

Regina looked around once more, and groaned: "He's somewhere."

"Even when we sit still, the Earth spins around its axis, the Earth around the Sun, and even our solar system still spins furiously quickly around our galaxy's center. Wherever you look, we move. There's nothing we can do about it."

"So... how are you?" Regina assumed John would answer "depressed," but she asked anyway, turning toward John with relaxed posture.

"I don't know. How are you?" Regina felt a moment of emotional connection that she had not experienced in quite some while—Tom never asked her how she was, except in a perfunctory manner that told her quite clearly from his tone of voice exactly how she was supposed to feel.

"Well, I do have some exciting gossip that should cheer you up. Beth and Ted are no longer a couple." John showed no response, so Regina continued her narrative. Ted had slapped Beth during an argument, in a joking matter, not hard enough to draw a bruise, but Beth decided then that he was nothing but a scoundrel. "We're done," she said, and she had left the room before Ted's sweet apologies and empty promises could convince her otherwise. By instinct, Regina and Juliet were nearby, and they immediately consoled Beth as she cried into Juliet's shoulder. The questions immediately began:

"Why did you date him in the first place?" Regina had asked, now free to share that Ted had been an awful person the entire time and Beth completely brainwashed.

"I dated him because I thought he was a gentleman," Beth explained, and the others immediately chimed in to tell her that Ted was absolutely not one.

"If you want to know who's a gentleman, I can think of nobody more chivalrous than Frank," Juliet triumphantly explained, and Beth assured Juliet that this insight was not improving her emotional well-being, and Regina decried that answer as nonsense: nobody epitomized chivalry more than Tom.

"I don't know what to do," Beth continued ragefully, "everyone I meet is an idiot, or worse. Maybe they're all good and I'm the monster."

"You want to feel sorry for yourself, don't you? With so much at stake, all you can think of is your own feelings. One man has hurt you, and you take your revenge on the rest of the world. You're a coward and a weakling." Juliet raised her hand to signal her objection to Regina's tough love, but Beth nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"It is true. I must be a coward and a weakling. You're right."

Regina continued her pantomime for John, using different voices for each of her friends, and John began to suspect that Regina was an unreliable narrator. John put his hand to his chin and appeared engaged, for once completely in the moment. This was no time for meditation—he would have to strike decisively while the iron was hot. Beth was out there somewhere, lost, vulnerable, exploited, clearly in need of yet another exploiter. But not in the mean way, the way that made Beth unsure if she wanted to cry herself to sleep some nights, but in the nice way.

"So what does Beth plan on doing now?"

"It's not for me to say. There are bad people out there in the world, John, who despite being handsome conceal hearts of darkness. And there are also good people too, who possess hearts of light while still being handsome. Beth has wasted a perfectly good year of her life with the former. If I were her, I'd want a break from it all. That reminds me: are you coming with us to the lake this year?"

"Yes, a break from it all does sound quite nice. Who is coming?"

"Well, Beth is, I obviously am, and Juliet's family is only going to Singapore the week after, so she's going to come as well. We'll have a full house, but lots of fun!"

"And Alan?"

"Tom said Alan was occupied with something, but he wouldn't tell me what. I'm sure he just wants to play video games at home or do something introverted like that. We're too mature for that. Just fun, games, and relaxation for us." John, his mind still crackling with uncharted possibilities, said yes without hesitation. They waited there, trying to meditate with varying degrees of success, until Tom suddenly crept behind them and made Regina nearly fall off the bench with astonishment. Tom insisted they leave to get a drink, John said he didn't need anything, Regina tried to persuade Tom of the natural beauty he was missing, Tom insisted once again that Regina come with him, and they left, Regina looking back to wave John a goodbye laden with imaginings of what could be.

Behrooz was too preoccupied with his recent success to think much of Beth's latest failure besides considering it inevitable. His DJ business had blossomed, and after growing tired of always playing for such high-energy events as "Senior Zumba," Behrooz asked Ms. Foster very sweetly if the school could be allowed to save money by letting him take over at school events. She said no—it simply wasn't done, there was no precedent! It was much easier, she said, to have students from the music production club volunteer countless hours so their names could flash by misspelled in the credits of official school videos. Behrooz did not see how this was a counter-argument, and eventually teased out a promise from Ms. Foster that if he could get himself 100 signatures, she'd hand over the reins. Behrooz spent one day furiously begging everyone he remotely knew to sign and give him a chance, including Frank, who suggested he try to convince everyone at that day's club meeting to help out.

"You aren't underdressed, I promise," Frank smiled, and took a moment to readjust his tie. Behrooz stammered and asked if he could leave a signing sheet with him instead of daring to enter the club's sacred space.

"That won't be any issue at all. Good luck. It's a shame that you've somehow never been able to attend the physical meetings. It's just a casual melding of minds, I promise. There's nothing else to it."

"I'm really not in the mood for seeing Beth. Or Ted." Frank chuckled knowingly.

"I don't think we'll be seeing much of Ted anymore." Ted had sent Frank an email shortly after his breakup explaining that for "personal reasons," he would no longer attend the meetings. Frank immediately went to show Mr. T, who grimaced and shook his head. "I don't mind a parasite. I object to a cut-rate one." Ted took little from his latest failure, not even that his reputation as womanizer was beginning to seep into his daily interactions with others, who even if they did not view Beth with much esteem certainly thought more of her than him. Ted considered himself a self-made man: he succeeded through elbow grease and failed through applying it too parsimoniously. He was a self-made man who owed his lack of success to nobody, least of all himself. Some had tried to explain to him exactly what he had done wrong, that Beth was a "good girl" who ought not to be censured for her occasional pangs of conscience. Even Tom criticized Ted for slapping her, thinking it too forceful a gesture for such little reward. All these factors combined drove Ted to find the common courtesy to email Frank, assuring him he was no less of a good person now and that he'd keep up with the lectures. Frank had outsmarted him by merely refusing to play the game, and in the process had stolen three of his possessions that by birthright should have been his. That sneaky bastard.

Frank had made it through one year of his club without running out of ideas. It was time to check off another item from the bucket list: the arbitrary leadership change. Frank viewed his club officers as largely expendable and interchangeable; if they were able to keep the regular attendees in line while still remaining easily suggestible and not too inclined toward independence, they were perfect. He still needed to get rid of somebody, that was certain. Alan was quick to admit that Stanley, while certainly an interesting person during debates, didn't have the full commitment to the cause that the others did. He wasn't part of the true inner circle, Alan argued, still believing that he had cracked the code. Frank checked his spreadsheet to see who had earned the most Frank-Bucks, hoping that a viable candidate would emerge who also could legitimize the entire process.

"How about Juliet?" Frank considered Juliet uniquely loyal, uniquely competent, and uniquely irritating. Frank bristled at physical contact and surprises he did not engineer himself, all things which Juliet provided in great abundance. Despite his best attempts to turn the club's members into a homogeneous blob, she and many others refused to comply. But still, Frank could respect Juliet's academic prowess, which was clearly demonstrated at every club meeting. She was like a family pet that he couldn't ever truly say no to, even if she ripped up the occasional cushion.

Alan immediately agreed with Frank, looking to him and Pranav for their approval. Juliet, he thought, had greater potential, especially as she had taken the initiative to kindly ask Alan one day in the hallway when she could interview to become a club officer. When he was too dumbfounded to answer, she asked Frank the same question. Frank hadn't really thought about interviews or any procedures of the sort, but as Stanley was content with a demotion (this was somewhat in name only, as Stanley agreed that Juliet would provide a better face for the club, and he certainly would be consulted in the future regardless) and Juliet would like nothing better than a promotion, he was willing to entertain the idea. An interview was a great idea—kudos to her for thinking of that for him. And additionally, while he was at it, he could easily create some paperwork for her too, as that would take care of another item on the bucket list. Juliet discovered that while Beth genuinely seemed excited for her (she suddenly seemed a bit more positive about the club, but didn't say why), Regina had nothing to say but empty congratulations.

Juliet spent an hour or two over the weekend reviewing, even emailing Frank some clarifying questions, and on Monday during lunch the two sat in the school library, Juliet scribbling away and Frank eating his salad. Frank waved to the librarians innocently, and Ms. Bracknell too when she walked by and did a double-take; he explained to her that this was normal for the club, and that normal people spent their lunch periods writing essays and watching others doing so.

"It's a spectator sport," Ted remarked to Frank when he passed by before sitting down at a table about ten feet away from his. Ted rarely went to the library, but as many of his friends were proving not to be very good ones, the air-conditioning and uncritical attitudes were welcome reprieves. Ted never knew books could be so cute.

When Frank told Juliet she had passed after school, she did a little fist pump and gave Frank a hug; he stood still, not quite sure if he was supposed to reciprocate the by-then unsurprising gesture. Did she really do this to everybody?

"What will I be doing as club secretary? Taking notes during meetings?"

"We have recordings, so that really won't be needed. You will help lead discussions, primarily, so be sure to bring your current enthusiasm to the club next year."

"Well, I am a cheerleader."

"As I'm well aware. As your first secretarial duty, you can make some campaign posters for Friday's election."

"Everyone already knows you're running. You're popular, they're all going to vote for you anyway. Nobody else could possibly be such an attractive candidate."

"It's tradition, Juliet, and I have always considered myself to respect tradition. Pranav, whom you know as our consultant, has helped with much of the digital advertising, as I'm sure you are well aware, but he and I are not as artistically inclined as you." Juliet laughed, and was about to assure Frank that his flattery was very much appreciated until he clarified: "You saw John's drawing of Regina? Think that, but worse."

"I can teach you at some point; are you coming to the lake?"

"Oh, no, I never could. Enjoy John's company, though. He's an interesting one." Frank could see that Juliet was expecting something more, but he had a speech to write and no time for distractions. "Anyway, I really ought to head home now."

"Which way are you walking? I'll go with you," Juliet insisted, and she matched Frank's pace as he left as quickly as he could.

In what proved to be the grand finale of high school PE, the students played golf on the football field. Mr. Clements talked up the activity as intentionally relaxing, a way for those who had never seen a golf club before to experiment and those who played at the country club every weekend to torment their peers. Tom surveyed the lane before him, which was marked with vividly orange plastic cones on the rough turf. His father never took him to play golf, thinking it a sport for those too wimpy to actually exercise, which had been a sore point for Tom since his youth. Instead of such refined amusements as golf and polo, Tom and his father engaged in plebeian pursuits, tossing a football around or shooting hoops at a basketball court by the Boys & Girls Club—the very same court where his father played as a kid. Tom handled his club like it was a weapon, aggressively driving it into the turf and throwing up black clouds. He imagined himself a Tiger Woods, shooting golf balls like meteors across the horizon and rewarded with trophies and cool drinks, and accomplished none of those things. This did not stop him from teasing Jason for his pitiful attempts at hitting his golf ball, which formed a trench as it skid across the field to a resting stop just before it could hit someone else.

"What are you, scared of the golf ball? It won't hurt you. Take out your feelings of rage. Pour your emotion into it. Have some feeling." Jason glared fiercely at him and hit the ball again, which gained some slight lift but otherwise did not travel far.

"You're a math person. Calculate the trajectory of the ball. Science it up. Come on, Jason!" Jason ignored his taunts and maintained the same form, each time making the sad walk of shame to pick up his ball and bring it back to the start.

"Stop being a loser and start being a winner!" Jason looked across to the far end of the field, where Mr. Clements was guiding a student who somehow was doing worse, walked up to Tom, and punched him squarely in the chest. Tom gasped for air, and looked around for sympathetic faces. His classmates averted their gaze, even Ted. Jason walked back to his lane and started hitting his ball again, this time with proper form and technique. Tom checked his watch—too much time left—and went back to practice.

Beth was willing to be the victim of anything but circumstance. She could accept that her poor judgment led her to act rashly, or that she judged Ted's character based on superficial attributes. But above all, she could not accept that she had done nothing wrong but be exploited by others who wished her harm. Despite her inclinations toward the good person philosophy and all it entailed, Beth believed her own hubris had stopped her from seeing her own flaws, and by association what exactly everyone else was doing right. Her parents had taught her from a young age that confession was the secret to absolution, and when a private conference with her heavenly Father, manifest in her teddy bear, proved a one-sided conversation, she sought additional support.

"Frank?" Beth asked, peering around the corner just to make sure nobody else was watching. Frank rapidly put away his phone and turned to Beth with a smile. "I am at your service."

"This is a hard confession for me to make—oh no, don't worry, not that sort of confession—because it violates the trust you have placed in all of us this year. I know your time is precious, so I will keep this brief. How do I stop vaping?" Frank gave Beth a look that radiated judgment, but also a lack of surprise, as if somehow this explained everything.

"I am glad you chose me to talk with. Why do you want to stop?"

"Well, it's somewhat obvious: it reveals feeblemindedness, it leads to long-term health effects, it's not trendy anymore—"

"No, Beth, not like that. Why now do you want to stop? What's put this thought in your head?"

"After Ted and I broke up, I've had some time for self-reflection. At first, I blamed him: the entire time, he was concealing his true character, manipulating me into thinking a certain way and accepting his temperament as normal. But I now think this is a lazy outlook. I don't want to be a victim, to play a victim because it gains me sympathy. I know there are so many others out there just like him that walk these same halls. All they see is a victim, a little plaything who will give them a kiss occasionally and make them feel high and mighty. They don't see themselves as immoral, they see themselves as budding capitalists, responding to a cruel world with cruelty of their own. Such an astute judge of character as yourself probably does not need to be told this, but it's easy for people like me to put themselves into subservient roles just because it works. It works, Frank. It works every time, and because of that, you forget all the bumps and skids along the way that leave wounds and scars, just because the highs are so good. You'd phrase it as sacrificing long-term benefit for short-term gain, and that's exactly what I want to stop. I want to stop being impulsive solely to gratify others, just because I think that makes me happy too. But it doesn't. It only makes people like Ted happy. I wish we lived in a society where it wasn't socially acceptable for me to appeal to the, you know, down there, instead of the brain."

"You make a compelling argument," Frank responded after some thought. Frank definitely thought Beth made good points. Frank had enabled Ted's predatory behavior due to his stubborn insistence on being equal-opportunity and breaking the rules occasionally. He had created this mess, and it was his responsibility to fix it, not because of any club doctrine, but because he was a good person. "Have you already disposed of all your vaping paraphernalia?"

"I have already. I'm all clean now."

"Well, it seems like you have everything largely under control, and I want you to know that I can provide any support you need. This gives me an idea, in fact, for next year."

"A vaping awareness campaign?"

"No, something better." Beth believed Frank had proven her lingering suspicions completely right: the fault ultimately rested with her for having made poor decisions, and erasing any impact of those poor decisions was entirely within her capability. She thanked Frank, reaching out for a handshake and fist bump, and went on her way. Frank immediately did what every responsible person does when told a secret and shared it with his friends, who together all swore to stay quiet. Alan and the other club officers were deemed too untrustworthy to be included.

"Is it really our responsibility to deal with vaping? That's, like, the principal's problem," Jason asked dismissively (Jason happened to walk by Frank and the others as they were conversing and was invited to join the brainstorming).

"Why shouldn't it be our responsibility? Mr. Kurtz clearly hasn't done anything to stop it. Drug users stink up the bathrooms. The secondhand smoke makes me gag. If we can pick up trash, this isn't too much worse."

"So how then, Frank, do we solve the problem? Do you have a solution in mind?" If Pranav knew Frank, he always had a solution in mind.

"It's simple. All of you know the placebo effect, right? We make some sort of fake drug, work with the administration to not only get them to pay for it, but look the other way, make some money, and rat out everyone to the administration."

"If it were as simple as punishing people for doing drugs, I don't think we would need to have this conversation," Jason sarcastically remarked. "But there are some people I'd love to see behind bars."

"And when was the last time you saw anyone punished for vaping? Never! Over the last year, we've built up this remarkable infrastructure, one which we'll be testing at the assembly today anyway, and it would be a shame to waste it all on trivial affairs."

"None of this has been trivial, though. I don't like pulling the 'I'm a junior, so trust me' card, but I wish my robotics team ran this smoothly." Before Pranav could continue, Frank interrupted:

"Exactly. A lot of trivial affairs accumulated become serious indeed. One grain of sand is infinitesimal, but thousands can drown someone. Can we ever have too much of a good thing?" Everyone murmured and agreed that no, it was impossible to have too much of a good thing, and they bubbled with suggestions for how best to execute the scheme. It was miraculous. It was almost no trick at all, they saw, to turn vice into virtue and slander into truth, impotence into abstinence, arrogance into humility, plunder into philanthropy, thievery into honor, blasphemy into wisdom, brutality into patriotism, and sadism into justice. Anybody could do it; it required no brains at all. It merely required no character. Somehow, Frank had convinced himself and his accomplices that the slippery slope they descended was not a slope, but a set of stairs, one they descended entirely on their own volition and with nothing but an endless treasure trove at the bottom. Wealth beyond their imagination, with a side of moral vindication. Frank always believed the ends justified the means, and Frank also never said no to a good deal; if the only people losing were those breaking the law, and everyone else won, who could complain?

Class council elections followed a predictable pattern: each class would be herded into the theater to sit obediently while the kids presenting suffered from stage fright to various degrees. Few articulated policy positions deeper than reaffirming their class was indeed the best, and everyone in the audience pretended to pay attention before immediately going to vote for their friends. Frank had purposely pulled strings with the student body president, who he knew from math class to be sympathetic to his cause, to schedule the speeches to be delivered in reverse alphabetical order; while seemingly arbitrary, this served to ensure Frank presented last. He wanted his audience's memory of his speech to block out all the others, and he had promised his friends before the assembly he would do exactly that.

After the two candidates for treasurer delivered equally credible promises to not embezzle all the class's money, Frank signaled Jason in the audio booth and Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now" began playing with thunderous intensity. Frank had to admit that there was nothing quite like walking on stage to a full audience of applause. Some of his friends had signs, and they led the house in chanting his name; many seemingly joined in the chanting just for the fun of it, and the teachers chuckled at the glitz of the affair (Mr. Cathcart despondently sighed, "Lord, what fools these mortals be!"). Frank signaled like a conductor, and at once the audience fell silent. He had a little speech that he prepped on some index cards and had tested on Jason beforehand, structured around the theme of "strength through discipline, strength through community, strength through action"; certainly it was plagiarism, but for about half the audience it was an original theme, and besides, what could they do about it? They certainly couldn't just stand up and leave, especially not after his brilliant, but brief air guitar performance.

"Friends, Tigers, countrymen, lend me your ears. I can see from my audience that my reputation precedes me, and thus I shall keep this brief. One of the core tenets of my club is 'strength through discipline, strength through community, strength through action.' Together, these things once made Heller great. Any yearbook you read will prove that we have entered the dark ages. Students simply aren't as studious, as spirited, as splendid as they used to be—our state senator graduated from Heller! And look at us now: we are a pale imitation of our former selves. We need a leader to restore our former glory, and I am that leader. I will make Heller great again! Together, we all can make Heller great again! Raise your hand in the audience if you want to fail high school, if you want to be consigned to a fate of remedial education and relentless mockery from your peers? None of you? I thought so. Raise your hand if you want to be alone, an outcast misunderstood by everyone, even yourself. Nobody? You should see a trend forming here. Heller, as it stands, is spinning out of control—we are a car, accelerating and accelerating toward an indomitable wall, and if we do nothing we shall burst into flames! But if we grip the steering wheel hard enough, perhaps we can avert disaster. That brings me to the last point: action. The actions we make every day, no matter how small, rotate that steering wheel; if good, they lead us the right way, if bad, we turn back to our original course. As secretary, I vow to do my part to lead the way toward a brighter future, one where we have a class of future senators and not borderline misfits. Millionaires, not paupers! I ask little of each of you, other than that every day, you model the behavior of a Tiger—a real tiger, ferocious with teeth bared, not a paper tiger that crumples in a stiff breeze! That's not so hard, is it? If you need guidance in how to become a better Tiger, a better person, ask me or any of the other club members; we have sworn an oath to defend those good old-fashioned values on which we used to rely, and we believe that each and every one of you can help us on this quest toward a land of milk and honey, of bread and circuses! Lastly: if any of you are against progress and wish to see our school crumble to dust, guess what? You have to vote for me anyway! Don't we all love democracy? (This was met with a resounding yes from the audience.) Once again, this is Franklin Barnes, asking you to help me make Heller great again!"

As he delivered his speech, pounding the lectern for emphasis, everyone he cared about was focused intently on him and only him. He left the stage to applause and Queen, and wondered if the other class council candidates felt uncomfortable now that their speeches were so depressing in comparison. After the assembly, Frank snuck out one of the back exits of the theater only to see that Mr. T had the same idea.

"I hope you know you have a true natural flair for this sort of thing, especially with the Mussolini-like delivery," he said, stopping for a second when a large drop of rain fell on his head.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I loved the Queen bit—wasn't that SNL originally?"

"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and you know how much I love my clichés," Frank joked. "If 'Uptown Funk' is blasted at every school event, it's only fair I adopt my own fight song. My personal favorite, while fitting, wasn't terribly appropriate."

"I doubt Ms. Wolfe would have enjoyed your inventive rhyme of 'faster pace' and 'master race.' But where do you go from here? If I do say so myself, you seem to have succeeded at what you originally set out to do."

"I don't know. I hope I get lucky. For now, I'll just be singing in the rain," Frank responded as he briskly walked away with a spring in his step. Mr. T followed him from a distance, and when Frank thought he was out of view, he shuffled his feet a little, swinging around the lamppost and jumping up the stairs.

After school, Beth still felt burdened by her conscience. This time, it was more of a creeping, existential dread, tinged with infinite possibilities of disappointment; even if Frank took the news well, what about somebody like John, who as usual stood out in the open seemingly not caring about the rain? There was something about John that made him perfect for confessions: he treated whatever he was told with reverence, never perturbed no matter how extreme. Beth made sure to grab a seat next to John, and she hoped he would do something to break the ice.

"John?" Beth asked, looking around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. John grunted, and she took that as a yes.

"As much as I hate to admit this, I have finally stopped vaping." Beth waited for John to make eye contact, and after she lightly nudged him just to see if he was awake, he looked up. "I'm so proud of you. You have no idea how much courage that took," he said through the faintest of tears, "and yes. I feel the same way toward you."

"Uh, thanks?" Beth offered with a raised eyebrow—how could John possibly have misinterpreted that? John caught on that Beth did not profess feelings of unwavering loyalty, and his breath steadied.

"So anyway, great work. Are you still coming to the lake?" John asked, still elated for no particular reason. "I've been helping Regina discover the joys of meditation in the park downtown, by the garden, and I think all of us can build on that progress. It's very scenic, up where Tom's house is. I bet there's great fishing." This prompted another raised eyebrow—did Tom know about this?—but Beth conceded that yes, she was coming still, and meditation would do her a lot of good. "It clears the mind," Beth recalled from health class.

John felt reborn when he exited the bus onto the slightly damp asphalt. He was someone that could be trusted, someone who was trustworthy—yes, he was someone deserving of respect! Beyond that, too, he was injected with a new vitality when he realized what else Beth's confession meant. She had changed, changed to be a better person, one capable of reflection; this reflection had guided her to spurn Ted, and perhaps it would lead her on a brighter path later. There were still a few days of school left, but only finals, which didn't really count; as far as John was concerned, he stepped off the bus a free man. John thought for a moment that if he were to run, arms at his sides, he would lift into the air and fly through the clouds, capering through the cloudy expanses of gray and refreshing rain. How exhilarating it would be to see his neighborhood as specks, the peninsula as one finger extending into the water like a pier, his country crystalline, and his humble planet as a blue dot that would shrink and shrink to nothing! John would live among the stars, keeping pace with the planets as they spun around with no end in sight. This grandiose vision disappointed him when he counted his steps and saw his feet were as ordinary as always. He walked a bit more quickly than usual, eager to get home and collapse on his bed.

Discussion Questions:

Is it surprising that Beth broke up with Ted? What does it say about her personality that this is her third failed relationship?

How has Juliet challenged Frank's authority? Has she shown any indication that she isn't wholly devoted to the club?

As mentioned at the end, we'll be heading back to the lake next chapter, this time with Juliet replacing Alan. How do you think this will change things?