Up. Down. The paint brush slathered our picket fence white.
I smiled.
“Jason?” I stepped out onto our front porch. He glanced my way and nodded, “Want some lemonade?”
“Sure.”

Halfway into the kitchen, I realized we didn’t have lemonade and never did. Oh, well. Forgetting my significant mission, I bounded up the stairs and into my room, landing with a soft bounce on my twin bed.
Glow in the dark stars.
Plastered on my ceiling. Stars. Jason was a star, wasn’t he? A college star. Red car, suitcases, books, dreams. Not like dreams I dreamed, but real tangible dreams that lit his path – that were within his reach. Stars.
“Bella?” My mom called from her room across the hallway, “We leave in five minutes for your counselor meeting.”
“When does Jason leave?” I flopped up to a sitting position. Leave. He couldn’t. Didn’t we have more picket fences for him to paint? No. No more picket fences for him to paint.
“…and then it’s off to college with him.” Mom’s answer beat hopelessly upon the wall of my mind.

At the counselor meeting, I tapped on the windowsill beside my chair and stared at the vacant chair across the table from me. Maria’s familiar clicking heels entered. Six years of those clicking heels. Every other week.
“Hey, kid.” Maria grinned, the determined sheen in her eyes glinting. She opened my folder and skimmed down a list of jumbled words. Words that meant nothing. Words that never changed anything.
“What’s up?” She propped herself on her elbows. I sighed and looked out the window.
“The sky is crying today.”
“So it is. Let’s get back to the point.” This is what I did every time. I said what I wanted to say and ignored double-edged questions thrown at me. Maria was nice. But stupidly stubborn. We went on like this, until she lunged forward abruptly and grabbed my hand. I pulled away.
“Why did you touch my hand?” I winced.
“Bella,” She murmured, her face dead white, “It’s been six years. Just wake up from this haze you call life.” Her voice was like metal grating on metal. The only word that swam through my mind was ‘college’.
“College.” I stammered, uncertain of what I should say or do, “I want to go to college.”
“That’s real nice, Bella, of you to think of that,” Maria remarked, suddenly excited I was saying something different, “But, you were pulled out of school at eleven…”
“Be a college star…paint a picket fence…dream a dream…” I chimed, beaming at my fidgety fingers. Maria’s sparking eyes darkened.
“Forget it.” Maria pushed her chair back, gathered my folder, and hightailed it to the door. I sat in the gray room thinking about college until my mom fetched me. Her lips were tight as she drove home.
“That’s your last meeting with Maria. She’s done with your case. Bella, you’re nineteen.” My mom peered back at me, and I saw tears brimming over. The rain dribbled outside and streaked down the window – which was like the mother’s cheek.
“Oh, forget it.” Mom sighed, voice throbbing with tears. Why must I always forget it? “Forget it,” Maria’s voice echoed in my mind.

  The following afternoon was one of those afternoons when the sun demands dominion and the air throbs with humidity. I skipped outside to where Jason was painting the half-white fence, near the heaping honeysuckle bushes. Up. Down. The paint brush slathered our picket fence white. This time I did have lemonade. Lemonade ice clacking on the flowery plastic of the cup. I pulled our lawn chair through the grass to a spot beside Jason. Jason only looked up once.
“I brought lemonade.” I chirruped, tilting my head to the right. My messy hair, peppered with sparkly hair clips and ribbons in odd places, tumbled to the side.
“Thanks, Bella.” He took the proffered glass. Clack, clack. I watched him drink from it, and then he set it down in the grass. Sweat drenched the back of his shirt and clung to his skin.
“The sky is mean today.” I glared up through the blearing sunshine. College, “Why are you going to college?” He wiped his brow and gazed back at me.
“I want to get a degree in law.” He murmured, sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose.
“Law.” I repeated, musing to myself. Law sounded boring. But college exciting. So many old friends were in college now. Why, not I?
“Yeah. As soon as I’m done with this fence, I’m outta here.” He grinned, going over a spot once more. I liked Jason. A lot. I wondered if he was here for me. To paint my fence because he wanted to be near me. Color seeped into my face.
“Friends. At college?” When I went to college I would have friends.
“Eh, a few,” I must go to college now. Jason needed more friends.
“I like college.” I leaned forward and put my mouth close to his ear. Something odd shone in his eyes.
“That’s nice, Bella.”

At the dinner table, mom and dad chattered on while I played with my ravioli. We could see Jason’s back through the window, stooped at the picket fence in the light of the fading sun.
“I asked him if he wanted to come in for a meal, but he’s almost finished for tonight. He’ll come back tomorrow morning and finish it” My mom shrugged. These words caught my attention.
“Tomorrow?” I gazed out the window, “He will leave to college?” But I hadn’t packed. Both mom and dad were staring at me, dad’s fork in midair. My mom exchanged a glance with him.
“Yes, Bella. In the morning he’ll leave for college.” She repeated, staring at me.
The morning sun would bring a new day tomorrow. Decidedly, I pushed back from the table and stood up.
“Bella?” My dad raised an eyebrow, “where are you going?”
“I’m packing.” I needed suitcases, books, a backpack, and dreams. Dreams that lit your path.
“For what?” My mom’s eyes were bright with alarm. The same alarm I’d seen at eleven when she emerged from the doctor’s office after my check-up.
“For college. I’m going to college. A college star.” I managed to make it to the door, before dad caught my arm. I jerked away from him.
“Bella,” His voice was gentle, as if talking to a frightened animal, “You can’t go to college, honey.” His words struck. My glass mind shattered into little pieces I couldn’t pick up. My eyes went out of focus. What? No college star? My lip quivered.
“But…”
Mom was beside him, a bit of sauce at the corner of her mouth. Darting back and forth, my eyes landed on Jason’s broad back, “No.” I whispered. Up the stairs. Through my bedroom door. To my closet. Hands digging through broken dolls, coloring books, and plastic animals, I found my ancient 5th grade school backpack, ripped and worn. My hands had a mind of their own as they grabbed and searched for things. My backpack was soon ready.
It was my first ever tangible dream.

It was pretty easy to sneak out the back door. Both mom and dad were conversing hotly in the living room.
“Maggie, she’s been this way for eight years.” Dad’s strained voice drifted down the hall.
“You broke it to her so hard. Just let her think about college for a while. She’ll forget about it in a month.” Mom was talking in between little rasping sobs.
“But that’s it!” Dad almost yelled, “We’ve got to stop letting her think things. Or she’ll never snap out of it. We have to stop being easy on her, Maggie.”
The screen door snapped behind me, and I bounded out to the street, passing Jason. In the middle of the street, I stopped, looking both ways. Which way? So, I just started walking. I’d find college.
“Hey!” A voice called from behind me. Jason was sprinting after me, hands spotted with white paint, “Where are you going?” When he reached me breathing hard, I smiled.
“College, with you. Show me the path?”
“But, Bella…” He halted and studied my face for a lengthy time, “…Okay.” We walked side by side for a couple of minutes, my steps dragging against the asphalt, and his in great strides.
“You know, Bella,” He began, “college isn’t really that fun.” I ignored him and jumped up to grab a leaf off of an overhanging tree. Silence ensued.
“Do your parents know you’re leaving?” I didn’t answer.
“Look, your parents need you, Bella.” His voice was unsteady. I turned and cocked my head questionably at him.
“Need me?”
“Of course. You’re their whole world. You can’t just up and leave them for college. They love you.” These words sounded familiar. Like words I’d heard in a certain gray room in front of an intrusive counselor. But, for some odd reason, they sounded different coming from Jason’s lips. Instead of bouncing off my skull, they screamed for attention and collided into my spinning thoughts.
“They do?” He had my partial attention. Unfocused. Blurry. But it was attention.
“Yeah, so how about we head back? I bet they’re worried.”
“Okay,” And he was leading me back down the street, towards a yellow boarded home with an almost painted fence in the clinging dusk.

At the gate, he smiled at me and put his hand on mine. I almost pulled away. But he held on tight, grappling with my strength. So, I did nothing, just stood there, with his hand on mine. And relaxed.
“You can’t go to college without school. So, if you want to go to college, I suggest you try school again.” His eyes danced in the dark, catching the light of the front porch. School? Again? I recalled the domineering teacher, the smell of erasers, and the scratch of a pencil on a paper. The humiliation. He saw my fear.
“Hey, don’t worry…Bella, I can’t make you try again. But you can.” He closed the gate, “Goodnight.”

Sun. Filtering through my eyelids. I blinked awake. Someone stepped into my room.
“Bella, honey,” It was mom, “Are you okay?” Pushing my cover off me, I leapt out of bed and to my window. Sun. Glimmering on glass, burning my eyes. Our front yard is in full view. But something’s different about it. A white picket fence. An entirely white picket fence.
“Jason?” I asked.
“He finished early this morning. He’s probably at the airport right now.”
So, he went. To college. And I would be going to grade school. A smile split across my face – a real one. Wide and toothy. And mom gawked.
“I want to go to grade school, mom. Grade school.”