"Sera, you have to stop raising your hand all the time," a voice whispered urgently. I didn't have to turn around to know it came from Cate, my best friend. She always worries about the things I do or say, but she never gives me any sort of explanation for her concern. I wonder, sometimes, why she would be so anxious about maintaining public appearances; she certainly doesn't moderate her own actions. I know that teachers don't like being corrected, and I sense that some of the other students think I'm showing off when I have an answer to every question, but I can't help it. Cate's misgivings are nothing new to me, and thus, easily pushed aside and ignored. My hand remains stubbornly in the air.

"Does anyone else besides Miss Kyle have the answer?" Mr. Launders asked. His voice can't hide his exasperation, and he's looking at everyone and anything except for me. I can just hear the words that must be running through his mind: "It's too early in the morning for this." The other kids in the class don't budge, and their eyes are all fixed pointedly elsewhere or straight at me. They know I'm never wrong, and they're quite happy to let me do all the work. I am the bane of teachers everywhere, and a thorn in Mr. Launders' side. Finally, he gives up. "Alright, Miss Kyle, it doesn't look like there's anyone here to challenge your unbridled enthusiasm for molecular biology. Please tell the class what the answer is."

I answered promptly, and flashed him a sympathetic smile. I don't think he noticed. The class is almost over, and then it's time for lunch. I almost forget to wait for Cate, but she hollers after me, and I can tell by the grin on her face that she's already forgotten she was supposed to be angry with me. Cate, known to everyone else as Cataline Legiona, is a first rate schemer. That grin on her face isn't just there to let me know all's forgiven, she's up to something. She has an unhealthy love for her unusual name and practices writing it in different styles and pronouncing it in different voices and accents. Funny thing is, she has the strictest code of honor I know, and she holds lying in contempt. Ask her for an opinion, and she'll give it to you without any hesitation or attempts to vacillate.

"I came up with the best idea for a Halloween costume!" Cate said. She has this gleam in her eye I've learned to be wary of. "Guess!"

"You've decided to role play a mad scientist, and you want me to play the part of the lab experiment," I tell her. We walk into the cafeteria and go to the end of the long line that winds along one wall.

Cate frowns at me. "No fun. How'd you get that on the first try?" She reaches absentmindedly behind her back to grab a tray. She misses, so I hand her mine and grab a second.

"I saw you doodling ideas down in English class." I said brightly. I've ruined her surprise, but I'm in a mischievous mood, and she is much too predictable.

Cate's frown just deepened. "You aren't in my English class." I shrugged off the minor discrepancy. "Look, I've been meaning to talk to you about doing that sort of thing."

"And I keep asking you what on Earth you're talking about. How am I supposed to stop doing something if you won't tell me what it is?" We've had this conversation a hundred times already since since school started this year, so I'm not paying close attention. Great, looks like it's taco day again. Ever since the city cut our budget, the food in our cafeteria has gone down the tubes. The line's moving again, but Cate isn't moving with it. I turn around to see what the matter is.

"You really don't know." It's a statement, and she has the oddest look on her face, as if I somehow surprised her.

I wait a minute, just to make sure she's not just messing with me, and said, "No, I really don't. Now will you please tell me what you've been bothering me about for the past few months?" I'm frustrated. I guess it shows, because she looks a little put out.

"OK, I'll tell you, but not here. There are too many people around, and the last thing you need is to attract more attention. I'll tell you on the way to work, alright?"

I nod, and Cate does this wonderful transformation into her usual cheerful self. When she finally notices the taco shells in front of us, she begins loudly lamenting the sorry state of the food they serve us, drawing some cheers from the other students and some dirty looks from the men and women whose job it is to keep the cafeteria stocked. I could tell she was going to get carried away as usual, because soon she's standing on top of one of the tables and yelling at the top of her lungs. I just sit down quietly and start eating. Her antics don't really faze me anymore. The students grow bored quickly, and the staff valiantly ignores her until she grows bored as well and hops down beside me.

Cate is small and wiry, with brown hair and brown eyes. I've always pictured her as some sort of noisy mischievous bird. As for me, I'm thin, but not scrawny like Cate is, and I'm as tall as or taller than most of the guys. My hair, oddly enough, is actually two separate colors, both different shades of brown, and my eyes change from blue to green for no apparent reason. Despite the differences in our appearances, we always get asked if we're related because of how well we get along. We've known each other since preschool, so by this point, we've got each other pretty much figured out. We're both seniors in high school, now, and we've made plans to attend the same college next year. My mother isn't in the best of health, and I don't like the idea of leaving her alone, so Cate and I agreed to stay close to home.

Lunch draws to a close, and the bell rings, letting us know it's time to move to our next class. Cate and I always have Spanish together right after lunch before we have to split up for the rest of the afternoon. Our Spanish teacher, Mrs. Lambor, is pretty cool. She's told us many stories about what it was like for her to grow up in another country. Apparently, her father was American, but he met her mother in Spain on a business trip and didn't come home again until several years later, after they had gotten married and had several children, including her. Cate and I think it's very romantic, but the guys just get bored and roll their eyes at her.

Today, we were reviewing for a test, so I was having trouble concentrating. Spanish is not my strongest subject, but I can usually keep up without too much trouble. I turned my head to catch Cate's eye, but she was intent on doodling in the margins of her notebook. I still have two more classes after this one, but I think I'll be dead by then. My restlessness must be pretty obvious, because Mrs. Lambor flashes me a sympathetic look. I realize, absently, that she must be bored too. I know she's already had one section of Spanish this morning, and she'll have to teach at least one more before school lets out. I could never be a teacher; I just don't have enough patience. Finally, the class is over, and Cate and I go our separate ways. The rest of the day is uneventful, so it isn't long before the final bell rings and I'm free to go. I've been thinking about what Cate said at lunch, and I'm starting to wonder what it is that she has been so reluctant to tell me.

As always, Cate is already waiting by my locker. Hers is right next to mine, as she comes right after me in the class roster. While I packed up my things to take home, she practiced standing first on one leg, then on the other, and wobbled a bit before she got her balance. It was a sure sign that she was bored, probably with me for taking so long. She wasn't very talkative today, so I decided to remind her that she had promised an explanation for me at the end of the day. She jumped in surprise, or at least, I think that's what she was attempting to do, because she lost her balance and promptly fell over on top of me. She pushed herself back up awkwardly and shot me a dirty look.

"I was hoping you had forgotten about that," she said bluntly.

"I never forget," I replied.

"I know, that's part of the problem," she said. Ignoring my somewhat bemused expression, she went on. "Look, are you ready to go?" I just nodded, so she turned abruptly towards the door and picked her way delicately through the crowd. I trudge dutifully after her.

She refused to acknowledge me again until we were a good distance away from the building. She stared steadfastly ahead, but I knew she was composing her thoughts to say something.

"Seraphim, I've been shielding you as long as I can remember. I'm starting to think I did too good a job of it. You never study, yet you always get good grades. If I stopped there, anyone would simply think you are very intelligent. When you meet people for the first time, you always know their name without having been introduced. Did it ever strike you that this is highly unusual? Her eyes challenged me to reply, but I was too taken aback to do anything but gape at her. Was she serious? Her claims were absurd!

"I think you're overreacting," I finally told her. "I have a very good memory, so of course I don't usually study, and I do work ahead. I'm not sure where you're getting the rest, though. Everyone finds it amusing when someone can correctly guess what instrument different people played in middle school band. Names really aren't that different. Some are more common than others."

"It's more than that," Cate muttered under her breath. "Look, even if you don't believe me, it's too many coincidences for me to let it go. I'm not the only one that notices this sort of thing, and someone else might not accept your explanation at face value. Promise me you'll at least think about it?"

I could tell she was serious. Keep in mind that Cate has never told a lie, not even as a joke. If Cate believed in something strongly enough to confront me about it, it would be rude of me not to consider it fairly. "Alright," I agreed, "I'll think about it, but I must know, how long have you kept quiet about this?"

"Well, I know I've been covering for you since at least middle school, though I didn't realize it until a year ago. It was already a reflex by then, and I had to ask myself why I was doing it," Cate admitted. "I thought for sure you had noticed it and guessed the reason by now, but you always were a little dense." She grinned at me, and I took it to be a sign that, for now at least, we should talk about something else. Besides, work was only another block down the street.

Cate and I both work at a community run day care facility not far from where we go to school. ItÕs convenient, because we can walk there, and we have a lot of fun. ItÕs run on donations and government grants, so our paychecks are never certain, but weÕre not really there for the money. Well, OK, not entirely. There are other places around that would probably pay better, but it's not every day you get a chance to make a difference in a kid's life. The day care has kids of all ages, from toddlers to middle school students. We get some high school students from other schools that come in too, for homework help, and some of them come back to play with the younger kids, who idolize them.

As soon as we walked in the door, we were up to our knees in little people. They all started talking at once, so I let Cate distract them while I slip past her and edge my way into the room. Anyone that wasn't up for the challenge would have been overwhelmed by now, but Cate has a special talent with young children. I poke fun and tell her it's because she really is just a child, but it's always interesting to watch. She likes to tell me that one of these days, she'll form them into a proper army, scary thought. As for an official capacity, I suppose you can say she's their leader, urging them on to all sorts of mischief. She might encourage them to misbehave, but when it comes to putting down others or telling lies, we both draw the line.

Right now, I can see Becky Suth, the main coordinator, in a smock and covered in paint by the large bay windows we have on the side wall. She never was one to stay locked up in her office all day acting managerial. This day care was her pet project, and she loves kids. She seems to have things under control, though, and she makes a gesture with her head toward the kids doing homework at a table behind her when I catch her eye. I make my way over to them, and watch as their eyes light up with a hopeful look. I have developed a sound reputation as a good person to ask for homework help. Most of the people that work here haven't had to do homework in years, and Cate, though well meaning, doesn't have the right attention span to stay focused on a problem.

"Sera, you know algebra, right? How do you add letters together? I didn't think you could," one boy asked me with a pained expression on his face. Another boy sitting next to him laughed and said "You idiot! You can't add letters! That's what numbers are for." The two of them glared at each other, and Becky yelled something incoherent about the punishments for name calling. Diplomatically, I sat between them.

"David," I start, addressing the first boy, "those letters are actually meant to be numbers. Are you learning about variables?" I wait for his nod, and then continued. "Variables are just numbers we don't know yet. If it helps, try replacing the letters with question marks. We use letters so we won't mistake them for something else. Is that better?" David nodded again, much more happily, so I turned my attention to Sean, on my left. "Sean, if you ever call anyone names again, I'll stop helping you with your homework, and I'll see to it that you won't be allowed outside to play for the rest of the year, even if I have to sit here and babysit you myself. Understood?" Sean nodded as well, but he doesn't look nearly as happy, and I think he's more than a little scared. He's new to the day care, so he compensates by acting out to draw attention to himself. He's not old enough to understand the difference between good and bad attention yet, but I'm working on him.

"Don't look so gloomy, Sean. I don't bite. Now, do you need any help with anything?" I added gently. He shook his head, and went back to work. I got back up and stalked about the table once, but, so far at least, no one else needed my attention. There are still a few kids that haven't arrived yet, but Sam Peterson, one of the other facilitators, doesn't appear to be around, so he's probably still out retrieving them. If the bus company won't drop the kids off, we pick them up at the school, rather than let them get off at an empty stop without anyone to wait for them. Sam is full time, like Becky, so they take turns shuttling the kids in from other schools. Our city has this strange policy where they randomly assign the kids to different school districts, supposedly to balance them out so there are an equal number of kids from each neighborhood at each school. It's a nice idea, but you try explaining to a kindergartener why they have to take two buses just to get to school everyday.

One of the little ones tugged at my shirt, so I bent down and picked her up. "Is my brudda here yet?" she asked and promptly stuck her thumb in her mouth. This is Laura, one of the little angels that frequents here. Don't let her cute face fool you, she's a full fledged member of Cate's rowdy crew. "No, hon, Sam's not back yet," I replied, "Brian will be here soon."

"OK, Sehwuh," she chirped happily and squirmed in my arms until I set her down. She ran over to the rest of the other children at play and quickly blended into the crowd. Cate seems to be in the process of starting some sort of game. I'm still pondering if I should join them when Sam comes in with the rest of the kids. I'm immediately swamped with requests for help, which kept me busy until the early evening.

Unlike my teachers, the kids here don't seem bothered by the fact that I have an answer to every question or that I can do their math homework in my head. I can't help but wonder if I'm setting a few of them up for disappointment later in life when they realize that it's not something everyone learns how to do as they reach high school. The quarterly tests are coming up soon, so all the kids are working and studying hard. At the end of every quarter, we tell them to bring in their report cards. If someone's done well, or made a big improvement, we throw a big pizza party for everyone and announce the names. I don't think any of us anticipated how effective our strategy was, but as soon as we started it, we've gotten some great results.

With everyone hard at work or busy at play, the day soon comes to a close, and parents begin to pick up their kids as they come home from work. Cleanup never takes long with four of us to split the chore, and then Cate and I are walking home in the cool autumn air. We parted ways as we reached my apartment building. My mother always works late, so I started up dinner and worked on my own homework at the kitchen table. I finished just as she walked in the door. She was tired, so she didn't say much in the way of conversation, but I'm used to that.

My mother is and always has been a delicate person. When my father divorced her, she crumpled into herself and lost her faith. When I asked her why she stopped going to church, she fixed me with this horrible bleak look in her eyes and smiled. "There's nobody left in heaven to listen," she had told me, and her words hit me hard. It wasn't long after that conversation that I abandoned religion for good. I've accepted that there's nothing I can do to make my mother better. It doesn't mean I liked the situation, but I learned how to cope a long time ago. I protect her from those that would harm her, like my father when he tried to bribe me to leave her by offering to pay for college. I was so disgusted with him that I haven't talked to him since.

I finished eating, and pushed my chair back from the table. My mother is still picking at her food, and her eyes don't focus properly on my face when she looks up at me. I can tell that she's exhausted, and the knowledge pains me. She's come a long way back from the hole she dug herself into four years ago, but she has a long way yet to go. I give her a quick hug, then help her up and get her moving in the general direction of her bedroom so she can get some rest. She makes a protest, but I wave it aside and set about clearing the table. The dishes don't take long at all to do, so I finish quickly and turn out the lights as I head to my own room to get some sleep myself.