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In the ensuing months of Tommy's exile, everything went as well as could be predicted. His life continued as one would expect of an estranged son. Time allowed him to be more forgiving of his family, and their fate as non-humans, and the hurt he once experienced faded from memory.

At sixteen he was off the farm, at seventeen he was settled into life on his own. With the exception of a birthday celebrated in Nick's house rather than his, not much phased him. He'd been through a tough time, and those days were behind him. Thankfully.

His schooling continued. Tommy had more time to devote to his studies, and less distractions (if you exclude Nick, who had a penchant for dragging him along to any number of teenage social functions; parties, sports days, you name it...) and had improved immensely in his grades. His best were history and geography, subjects he developed a keen interest in over his penultimate year thanks to enthusiastic teachers who believed in the value of their lessons — as if some feel-good tale had seeped into reality, its characters invading the real world with their optimism. He thought he would've maintained his interest in mathematics but found it gradually losing its allure. No matter, you win some you lose some.

The duo shared a lot of classes, so it was only natural they spit-balled their performances together, comparing notes and test results. Nick realised his potential for anything science-y, excelling in chemistry and biology. A queer corner of Tommy's mind wanted to steer his friend away from biology, and his interest in bio-engineering and genetics, goading him: hey, hey, don't want your friend to be like the folks at Bovinex eh? A geneticist turning people into monsters huh? Do you want Nick to be some kinda Frankenstein huh?

Tommy was afforded the surreal (and rare) experience of scolding his overactive imagination: thanks brain, but no thanks. Stop with the conspiracies. It's not helping. Focus on getting me through the next year and a half, with good grades, then I'll let you ramble your insane ramblings all you want.

It wasn't all sunshine and daisies however, and both of them felt the sting of increasingly difficult course material. What started confidently as high scores ('B's mainly, with 'C's dominating each boy's less-preferred subjects), declined under the mounting pressure. They needed their camaraderie more than ever if they were to get through it all.

“Study plan...study plan..."

“Y'know, just saying the words 'study plan' doesn't actually mean you have one."

“Shush bro, I'm thinking," Nick replied. “Actually. I've been meaning to ask...do you prefer being called 'bud', 'bro' or 'dude'?"

Well there goes his train of thought. “Eh?"

“Nah but seriously, do you have a preference?"

“Nick, that's got to be the least important thing I...you...anyone could ever think about!"

“Just askin' is all."

“Don't worry about it. It's the least of my problems."

“True." Nick was wise enough to steer the conversation away from Tommy's worse 'problems'. Something bad had happened at home with his friend, some kind of falling out pushed him to stay with Nick's family. Tommy said very little about it, but Nick could tell he was still trying to get to grips with it, months later.

“Well," he said, “seeing as we're in a library, we might as well take out some books..."

“Nick, Nick, Nick...you want to take out books, I'm just here to hang out with ya."

“What makes you think that?"

“The fact you're very keen to go to the library all of a sudden, after chatting with a particular classmate of ours."

“And who would that be, detective?"

“Little bird told me her name begins with an 'A'. 'A' as in 'Amy'..."

“Gonna have to shut you down right there. Nothin' to do with girls at all bud. Just here to 'expand my horizons'. People like a well-read guy. Someone who knows a thing or two 'bout books, magazines, newspapers and how they're put together."

“You're sayin' that because Amy is heading the yearbook committee."

“No comment."

“C'mon, admit it, you're soft on her."

“Well, yes, maybe."

“You've a crush on Amy," he teased, “but she's spoken for isn't she?"

“That too."

“Oooh, drama! What's the first step in you plan to steal her from another man?"

“Dude, shut up."

“Oh now you're touchy. C'mon Nick. What's the scoop here?" The 'scoop' was — and Tommy knew this — that Nick fancied Amy Langdon, a straight-A student from their year, who like many of the popular students in school, already had a boyfriend. There was fierce competition among the more enterprising lovelorn kids to woo them away from their current beaus.

“I'm going to try and get in on the yearbook stuff."

“Even though that's not 'till our final year." Which for them would be next year, when they were both eighteen.

“Yep. They start prep for it early. Who's gonna write about what, and all that."

“So you, Nick, are going to sweep everyone off their feet with your amazing publishing skills (that I've never seen before), prove to them all your a great guy, a real champ, a team player, and have Amy fall for you? I'm getting that right?"

“When you put it like that, Tommy, it sounds like a crappy teen high school movie."

“Oh I know. And you secretly love those right?"

“Shut up," Nick tried to cut short his friend's teasing. That didn't stop Tommy though…

“Who's she currently dating?"

“Johnny Crudolofsky."

“Ah, the Crud-Meister."

“Who I (and I hope you'll support me on this) am going to have put down as 'worst name of all time' in our yearbook."

Again with the yearbook, you're obsessed! “If such a category exists..."

“I'll make it exist!"

They continued to pester each other. At least Nick had found an outlet for his stress about the coming year. His (obviously unrealistic) goals of becoming the media mogul for the school and convincing Amy to go out with him had the benefit of staying his mind, keeping it from dwelling purely on academic matters.

“Okay bud, enough. Let's talk about something else."

“Like?"

“Hmmm," Nick sat quietly for a moment, before pulling out a notepad from his bag, “any luck on finding colleges to apply to?"

“Not really," he sighed, “I haven't been thinking 'bout it."

“Seriously? Well I have. Here, look..." he presented the notepad to his friend. Tommy found a bookmarked sticker on its side that identified the right page. Flipping it open, he saw a list — scribbled awkwardly in Nick's 'unique' handwriting — of prospective degrees.

“That's a big list."

“Don't feel too bad about it," Nick added, understanding his friend's alarm, “I haven't spent long looking, these...um...most of these are just the same topic in different places. Like see here," he pointed to an entry in the middle, “this one for general biology in the Canassia Academy Of Advanced Sciences is the same as this one over here," he tapped at another part of the list, “for...hang on I can read this...stupid cursive...wait! Yes, the University Of East Wydiana, on the other side of the country. They're basically the same course, different places see?"

“Makes me feel a tiny bit better...but I really need to start searching..."

He was right. While he was enjoying his time together with his best friend, Tommy was all-too-aware that it'd be over soon. Then there was the future. Of which his mind was blank. Tommy had tried, desperately so, to come up with a plan for after he finished school. On that front, Nick was already four steps ahead.

If Nick can think straight, why can't I? Why is it every time I try nothing comes up? He's got his college applications all worked out, and I'm here, jaw hanging open, unable to form coherent thoughts. Stuck in high school mode, like there's something blocking me from maturing.

“Worried about your mom and dad again?"

“How did you?"

“You got that look."

Shit, do I really broadcast it so obviously?

“Don't wanna pry again, I really don't, but ya gotta learn to live with your problems. Gotta endure them, 'cause the worst ones ain't in your control. So no fretting over them, y'hear?"

“So," Nick continued, “where do you think you might go?"

“Well, my Inglish and history teachers both reckon I should pick a course that involves a lot of creative writing. They say I'm good at structuring an essay."

“I thought you hated essays?"

“I do. That's why I'm not leaning towards their suggestions!" Tommy laughed. “What else? What else?"

“Aren't you doin' some actual languages as well?"

“Yeah. My Alleman teacher — Mr. Rosenthal — thinks I have potential. Maybe not so much now since I tanked his last test, but there's that. Foreign languages and stuff. Also, even though I'm not doing amazing in some of my other subjects I always get high marks from group work."

Nick took a moment to judge his friend's aptitude. Surprisingly, he actually had a decent idea of what to suggest. “Let's take all these things step by step. Writing, languages, group projects...sounds like some kinda business track is the right one for you, if you're concerned 'bout finding work when it's over."

“Geez, that doesn't sound very inspiring..."

“Hey, ya never know. You're good with people. Do you wanna know why?"

“I'll bite. Why?"

“Because you're a misfit. We both are, sorta."

“Wow, thanks," Tommy said sarcastically, “that sure is some great positivity there Nick!"

“Listen, I mean it. Not in a bad way, not in a 'kid's a loner, is he gonna shoot up the school?' way. Nah. You kinda, sorta float around between groups, can sorta insert yourself into any clique — superficially anyways. Okay...that sounds like a downside. What I mean is it doesn't take long before you get on well with folks, you ain't a wallflower or anything, and you're not bossy or rude." Nick thought long and hard for a good comparison, until he found the perfect one: “you're like the Goldilocks of social interaction!"

“Gotcha. I understand." I think...

“That's what I mean when I say misfit. You're not a perfect fit in any of group, but you're not an outcast either."

“And that makes me a businessman?"

“Well, it's some of the qualities. People-person, is what they call it."

“'Cause it sounds more like you're describing a salesman."

“No man. You're better than that, like, miles better. Same skills, so I can see why ya might think that."

“And this leads you to propose, say, pursuing an MBA at Barson U. then?"

“Actually...if you're really lucky you don't need college to start with. For business fields at least."

“Why is that?"

“Because you might already have an 'in'."

“An 'in'?"

“Networking dude. For example: you know that big corporation that bought your folks' land, right, the Botex one."

“Got the name wrong."

“Bovril?"

“Nope. Try again Nick."

“Botox?"

“That's what people inject into their foreheads."

“Wait what?"

“I said guess again."

“Bovinex?"

“That's the one!"

“So Bovinex. Imagine yourself working in a place like that..."

“No...what? Why?"

“...just bear with me okay? Imagine yourself working in a huge company, starting at the bottom — y'know simple stuff like filing, data entry, and assistant roles; and getting to know folks higher up. Slowly, you work your way up the corporate ladder, maybe even switch companies when you got the experience. Then you go back to university, earn a degree, see?"

“You think I have what it takes to brown-nose my way to the top of a major corporation? That's stretching it a bit don'cha think?"

“Fine, I admit, I am kinda blue-skyin' here. But like I said: misfits, huh? Goldilocks?"

“If you're gonna start calling me Goldilocks—"

“Listen, the Bovinex thing was an example. Apt though. Look at your mom and dad. I never like prying into your personal life, I respect you that way — but there's probably big bucks in it for you to start somewhere like that, if your parents are important employees. I mean, from what little you've told me, your mom and dad seem pretty valuable to them, and what they earn ain't half-bad. Have you considered it?"

“Huh." Never thought about that. Would make things weird though. My parents and all...

Is that really an option here? Profiting off of that company and their total lack of ethics?

Then again, they are technically supporting me. “I do get a stipend actually, not much but it's liveable."

“Oh cool. See, they're already making you money!"

“It was part of the agreement when we sold our land to them. It's gotten more complicated though."

“Yeah all that legal jazz messes with your head. The money's all that counts bud."

“Boy, don't you have a fine moral compass eh?" I get that Nick doesn't know what really happened — any of it — but damn, is he really saying I should entertain the possibility of working for them? I thought 'big scary agri-genetics corporation' was a helluva warning flag for anyone considering a job there.

“From what I see—"

“Just drop it would you!?" Tommy shouted a bit too loud for a library setting. Only a matter of time now before the librarian came 'round to chastise a particular couple of unruly teens. I think it's time to leave, Tommy thought to himself, hungry now anyway...

“Chill dude, you're doin' well. You and me both. We got options, just sayin'. Lots of big companies are hiring these days, that Bovinex one included. Nothing like the last decade of recession, recession, recession; every talkin' head on TV telling us it's doom and gloom. Time's a-changing. We put the work in, we can do anything we want. I'm sorry — I know I touched a nerve there, you're still antsy 'bout you and your folks."

“No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I got defensive when you started to talk about that stuff. It would've pissed me off if you did know what I went through, but I can't blame you otherwise. You just wanted to help out suggesting places."

“Hey, it's okay dude." Nick appended to his mini-pep talk a suggestion: speaking with the faculty counsellor, or someone close to the family, could help if Tommy saw no improvement in his prospects. “If ya wanna, why not give your uncle Carl a call, you always feel better after talkin' to him."

Why, oh why, do you keep thinking he's my uncle!? I'll never get it into your thick skull will I?

He glanced at his watch. Nick tilted his head. “You've got that 'deep in thought' look again bud."

“Huh? Right...I just remembered..."

“Remembered?"

“Yeah. There's half-price subs at Barson St. Bakeries for the next two weeks. I think I recall seeing side orders being free as well."

“Well done bud. Well done!" a slow clap accompanied Nick's mockery, “The success story of our education system right here. Reading, writing and 'rithmetic. This kid's got it all!" Nick adopted an old-fashioned faux-Inglish accent for his next jape: “So sharp his eyes and quick his mind he can spot savings at twenty paces, I say!"

He gave his friend a playful whack on the shoulder. “Oh knock it off!"

“The mind? One's wits? What foolishness, the stomach is all a man needs! Whoever heard of feeding your brain a sandwich!?"

“Okay let's get out of this library before we are thrown out." With that he whisked his friend away from the public eye, Nick still laughing his head off at his own humour.

“A bargain, a bargain! Look sir a bargain! A meal fit for king, and halved in price no less."

Dear God he's really not stopping this...this...whatever he's doing, is he?

* * *

Clack, clack, clack. Someday, that noise was going to drive Lacey mad. Clack, clack, clack. The sound of her hard-capped fingertips on the comically oversized keyboard she used. Typing away in her office at the Reimond farmstead, she was counting the minutes (no wait — the seconds) 'till she could take a break and leave behind that god-damn clack, clack, clack noise! Note to self: remind me to get Carl to find a softer material to make these keys out of. Before I smash the fucking thing on his head!

Her door swung open wildly, and she jumped with fright. What the? Eric barged into the room unannounced. Papers flew around the room in a blizzard of stationery. Anyone know how to knock in this place? she asked herself, Sandra also doesn't enter politely either...

“Could've knocked, Eric!" she shouted.

...wait, it struck her, is this a romantic visit? Shoot, did I just ruin the mood? She promptly corrected her attitude, not wanting to spoil any sexy-times with her handsome herd-leader and mate by bitching at him.

“Oh hi, um, sweetie." Calling him that still felt odd, like it was Sandra's sole privilege for being first in the herd. Wait, that's not it...

Eric was exhausted from running across the fields. The bull looked as if he'd seen a ghost. Lacey realised this when he spoke (or rather: roared)...

“MOO! Quick, Sandra's water broke!"

“Oh God!" Lacey sprang to her hooves and rushed out the door with Eric to help her herd-sister. No time to wait for Frank to help out, she's having her calves now, oh my...

I'm gonna be an auntie.

I'm gonna be an auntie!