.:The Illumination of Sorrow:.

MODEL STUDENT

Back when the sun just started to peek her head out from her winter long beauty sleep and the student body returned from their two week long holiday, Mr. Miguel asked his class what their parents do for a decent (or indecent) living.

Most students answered dentist, bank teller, military, or the more exotic choices of Waste Management or Human Resources. A quarter of the kids answered 'unemployed' with no amount of shame. Joblessness was an accepted career choice; it paid well, with innumerable benefits funneled from the bank tellers and dentist's already questionable income.

Then it was Bean's turn.

Mr. Miguel, the social studies teacher, instinctively sensed Bean came from a different type of folk, which he admired. He had a feeling Bean operated at such a constant level of composure that if he won the lottery no one would be able to tell.

"What about your sister, Bean? What does she do?"

The boy in question closed his book on comparative politics, dark, young eyes bright with intellect. His jaw shivered as he thought up an explanation for why he was the way he was, why his sweet tea lips and skin were always perfectly moisturized, and why his ratty canvas backpack had seen countless balm drops, gun trades, and late night hits.

"She hustles." Bean said. "And she's damn good at it too."

The other students nodded at his answer, knowing from experience Bean wasn't one to inflate the truth. Flossy Jones, the plump girl behind him, flicked the back of his neck in admiration.

Several weeks later Mr. Miguel contacted Olive for a Sibling-Teacher conference. When the two arrived Mr. Miguel asked Bean to sit in the hallway while he and Olive discussed a 'few matters.'

Olive didn't know what to expect. She'd never been to one of these things. Her hands were still greased from hours churning and stewing balm. The demand had increased so drastically she could hardly keep up with orders. Before they left the apartment she debated bringing her handgun for at least twenty minutes before deciding to tuck it into her jacket, just in case.

"Miss Downes." Mr. Miguel beamed.

She lightly pats the chilled metal of her Huzuni for security. "Olive, please. Thanks."

"Olive," The older man had kind, wide set eyes. "I want to talk about Bean's future."

"Yeah?"

"He's brilliant. He's top of his class. There's nothing we can throw at him he can't handle. Some of the material he's reading is university level. I don't know what you're doing at home, but whatever it is you need to write a self-help book about it and sell it."

"Yeah, I already know all of this, what's it got to do with me?"

Mr. Miguel doesn't skip a beat. "He's not going to reach his full potential here, Olive. He needs to go to a higher institution. Possibly one that requires an... additional fee."

"The joys and wonders of private school." Olive deadpans.

Mr. Miguel now knows where Bean learned his perpetual coolness. "That may be an option. I know you're doing your best to support him and yourself, and this economy is tight already. I know it's hard being eighteen and working and balancing everything on your plate, but Bean would best benefit being around people his age who have the same intellectual capacity. The Hubris Academy for Gifted Students would fit the bill."

Yeah no, Olive thought, the insanely gargantuan bill.

She calculated how much extra balm and hits she would have to make to pay for a year of private school. She wished there were more hours in the day.

"This is only a recommendation. I wanted you to know you have every reason to be proud of Bean. He's popular. Sharp. Steady. And I think at a higher institution he would be unstoppable." His wedding ring flashed when he pushed his thin framed glasses up his nose. "If you have any questions-"

"Okay."

"...Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Let me run this by Bean and we'll see what he thinks. If he's alright with it, it's a go."

"Really?" Mr. Miguel startled himself to his feet. "Wonderful! Neither of you will regret this opportunity. I'll make a recommendation as soon as possible." He shook her slicked hand with vigor.

"Here." She casually set a tub of balm on his desk.

"What's this?" He asked, even though he knew exactly what it was.

Olive tapped the top to emphasize the importance of her words."The government store bought shit you have on your lips will only work for so long. You need oil based balm so it won't dry out. When you first put in on it'll tingle for a bit, but that's just because it's accelerating cell turnover in the thinnest part of your skin. It'll feel better afterwards. And your wife'll love it."

He could only imagine how much it cost her to give him, her little brother's social studies teacher, this gift rather than sell it on the black market. The amount was equivalent to a small meal. Half a rent payment, even. More than he deserved.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." And he meant it.

"Yeah, whatever."

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Later that night, Mr. Miguel screwed open the tub of homemade balm, tucked a finger into the jelly, and cautiously smoothed it over his lips.

Elena Miguel greeted him with her usual neutral kiss after another long day at work before doing a double take, kissing him again, and dragging him to their bedroom.

Mr. Miguel was equally delighted and unsurprised to find that Olive Downes was absolutely right.