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Sylvia skipped the lunch crowd top go to the office to see Mrs. Pulowski.

The admissions office is a little busier at lunch time than during the rest of the day, but it's still a place where paperwork gets filed at the proper time, in the proper way, and where only the potted flowers alleviate the clinical antiseptic sheen of laminated table tops and latex paint.  Sylvia waits for a gap between waves of student supplicants to come up to the counter.  "Hi, Mrs. Pulowski," she says with the kind of faux casualness that's not too suspiciously out-of-place among fourteen-year-old girls.  "How're you today?"

"I'm very well today Ms. Avery-Vaugh.  Thank you so much for asking."  she puts the form she was stamping with the date away and looks at Sylvia through her bifocals, "What can I do for you today?"

Sylvia gives her a look of blissful innocence and feels Mrs. Pulowski out for vibes of deception.  "I was just wondering if we were going to get any more new people at our table.  One of them didn't work out so well, so I was hoping for a replacement."

"A replacement dear?"  Ms. Pulowski chuckles, "I don't have any control over when new people arrive Ms. Avery-Vaughn.  I could not ask Mr. Elliott to escort any new students.  But it's always best to try to give new people a good impression.  Help them fit in.  Perhaps if you just gave them more time.  To work out that is?"

Sylvia gives Mrs. Pulowski a level stare that Sylvia's youth makes precociously cute.  "Are you serious?" she asks frankly.  "You're just sending all the incoming freshmen our way?"

"Not all of them."  she says with a smile.  It's that Grandma smile that you develop after your kids are grown and gone.  It's framed in glasses and hair that hasn't had it's own color since before the girl you're talking to was born.  "Just ones that might have shared interests.  Or hobbies."

"What interests and hobbies would those be?" Sylvia asks as reasonably as she can.

"Music, gymnastics, dance, athletics."  Mrs. Pulowski adjusts her glasses, "Doing a story for the paper?"

"Just curious."  Then Sylvia purses her lips and looks both ways for eavesdroppers.  "Because, you know, after the cafeteria incident that brought all those MIB's in, it would be easy to assume you're sending them our way because we're all a little odd."

Mrs. Pulowski leans closer, "One could assume that."  she says, that smile still raising the corners of her mouth, "Except your teenagers.  You're all a little odd to people my age."

Sylvia gives her that stare again--not unfriendly but meant to show that she's perfectly serious.  "Level with me, Mrs. Pulowski.  Why are all the kids you're sending our way--"  She looks around for eavesdroppers again and tries to lean over the counter so she can lower her volume.  "No.  Better question:  are you a paranormal?"

Where Colin left the tough questions unanswered, Sylvia is tenacious.

Mrs. Pulowski mimics Sylvia's conspiratal manner.  "I'm no more paranormal than you are dearie.  Besides, if I were young and going through the changes you are, I'd certainly want to know there are people going through the same problems I was.  People who could be sympathetic and understanding."  And that grandma smile returns.

Sylvia looks aggrieved at first.  She opens her mouth to ask another, more direct, and assuredly less discreet, question, but then she parses through what Mrs. Pulowski said and bows her head in acknowledgement.  "Got it.  Thanks."  She looks up to the older woman's face.  "I don't suppose you know of other kids who are already in the school, kids we might want to keep an eye out for?  Kids who share our extracurricular interests?"

"Since the last."  She wrinkles her brow, which makes her seem older suddenly.  "Ms. Shipman, I didn't introduce her to people I maybe should have.  Perhaps with the right friends she might have been...saved?"  She relaxes her brow, "But as far as I know, you're all together.  All gifted students with bright futures I'm sure."

Sylvia shakes her head, also suddenly older, and tired.  "She didn't want friends.  She was done with her friends.  Nothing to be done about it."

"Not everyone can be saved then I suppose."  she shuffles some papers around.  "Everyone deserves the effort though I guess."  She looks back to the younger girl.  "Was there anything else dear?"

Sylvia shakes her head and pushes off the counter.  "That's it.  Thanks for your time, Mrs. Pulowski."

"Have a nice day dear."  Mrs. Pulowski says as Sylvia exits the office into the hallway.

OOC: Stay tuned, more to come!

The moment that Sylvia walks out of the door, she hears a familiar voice. "We need to talk."

Alicia is leaning against a set of lockers, arms crossed. Her attire is an unsubtle shift from yesterday. She's wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt, and this brings up the fact that it's the first time she's worn one in school. This is made even more obvious by the previously-covered white line of a scar traveling from the middle of her left forearm back to the elbow.

Her pants are black and form-fitting, dripping with chains and zippers, tucked into a scuffed, but well-loved pair of Doc Martens. Along with her ubiquituous shades and gloves, Alicia fits every inch of the image of the "bad girl."

She stands as still as a statue, her face expressionless hidden behind the dark sunglasses.

Sylvia sighs.  "We really don't."  She keeps walking.

The only hint that Alicia has moved is the very faint jingle from the chains on her pants.

"Running away from a problem doesn't solve it. At least it's never worked for me." she says, a step or two back from Sylvia.

"It works for me just fine," Sylvia says.  Then a stray thought catches up to her, and she slows down, then stops without turning to look at Alicia.  "Do you need something?  Are you in trouble?"

Alicia paces Syliva precisely, so she is still a step or two away form Sylvia as they stop.

She cocks her head with an odd smile. "Okay, you win. Of all the things I was expecting you to say, that was definitely not in the list."

She sighs. "I'm supposed to apologize to you. A person who I've discovered I care a lot about told me that you weren't a stuck-up manipulative bitch, and I'd really like to prove her right."

There is a challenge in her voice, but also a plea.

Sylvia holds up a finger--not one of the insulting ones.  "See, that--that's why we can't talk.  You get angry; you try to kill someone.  I get angry; everyone tries to kill everyone."

This actually makes Alicia pause.

In a reasonable tone, she tries again. "OK, how about I promise not to make you angry, and you promise not to make me kill someone?"

Sylvia turns to look at Alicia.  "I'm not sure we can hold that bargain up.  You--"  She tries to temporize.  "You have history with someone, I'm guessing--"  She's not guessing.  "--who got in your head and messed you up.  I am not that person.  I'll never be that person.  I wish you luck in getting over it, but--"  She shrugs, apologizing for the pointed observation.  "--you have issues, and you can't use me to work through them.  It's too dangerous."

Alicia cocks her head in the other direction. Puzzle pieces click into place in her mind.

"You're acting like Torrance, sweetie."

"Sylvia didn't do it on purpose.  She's not that kind of person."

"Ms. Shipman, I didn't introduce her to people I maybe should have.  Perhaps with the right friends she might have been...saved?"

"She didn't want friends.  She was done with her friends.  Nothing to be done about it."

She says softly, with a sympathetic voice, "I'm thinking I'm not the only one flying with checked baggage. My turn to guess."

She begins to pace around Sylvia. "You've got this... ability but you're not quite in full control. And that scares you. You're worried that if you slip, if you lose your grip, the people around you, epsecially the ones you love, will get hurt.

"There was someone else, someone who had powers like yours but had no problems using them. In bad ways. And that scares you even more, because you worry you might end up just like her."

"Am I close?"

Sylvia is quiet, withdrawn, and grim with resignation as if, somewhere near the heart of her, a death-like darkness is thickening.  "I wish I could call her evil," she says, almost in a whisper.  "But she's what we all are, way down deep."

Alicia stands there, looking at Sylvia. Whatever emotion is playing across her eyes remains safely hidden behind plastic lenses.

She swallows, then says quietly, "Look, for what it's worth, I am sorry for losing my cool yesterday. You're right. You're not the person who f**ked me up. You're not even close. Be glad of that. You hear me? Be glad of that!"

For a moment, there is steel in her words.

The brief burst of energy spent, she takes a breath and continues. "I know it probably means s**t coming from me, but... I think you're all right. Whatever happens, you've got friends that'll stand by you. Donnie may be an asshole, but he loves you. And all that's worth more than anything. Never forget that."

Her voice catches, and instead of saying anything more, she turns and walks away.