Mint and apricots

32. Knowing me, knowing you

- October 3, 2000 -

- Washington High School, Sioux Falls -

It had taken a written invitation, an argument about high school's suitability as an educational facility that had ended up in shouting, four days of Mary's skill to insist without upsetting and half a dozen astral conjunctions for Sam to be able to see his father appear in Professor Harris's office on the day and at the time when all of them had been given an appointment.

It had taken a miracle, but in the end, perhaps out of exasperation, John Winchester had agreed to show up for one of the parent-teacher meetings with the professors he deemed unnecessary – both the existence of those meetings and that of the teachers themselves were seen as fruitless, by the Marine. John Winchester believed in other kinds of life lessons.

That day, late in the afternoon, Sam had been waiting for the arrival of his parents side by side with Professor Harris, trying desperately to be infected by his literature teacher's optimism. It will be all right was what he kept repeating over and over in his mind, trying to convince himself of those meaningless words. Needless to say, Sam soon failed and was left drowning in his own anxiety, letting his young professor's words of encouragement flow over him like water.

At twenty-eight years of age, Mr. Harris was too young and hopeful to understand the skepticism of this particular student of his. It didn't matter that Sam, in turn, was only seventeen. The young Winchester had the misfortune to know that, not believing in scholastic effectiveness after fifth grade, John would have probably been one of the hardest parent of his teacher's career.

Now, with his parents on his right and with Professor Harris' introductory speech close to its conclusion, Sam could say he was mathematically certain about it: his father would have shocked the poor man. It had been several minutes since Sam had first felt his parent shudder not even a meter away from him, as eager to intervene as he was, and he could already guess what all that internal seething would have led to.

"And this was the extreme synthesis of what your son's school career has been up to now. I would say there is doubt that you can be proud of him," Professor Harris declared, smiling broadly at the Winchesters. Only Mary returned the smile with conviction before the teacher's attention shifted to his pupil: "Anyway, Sam asked me to organize this meeting to discuss with him and with you his chances of being admitted to college. And not just any college."

Feeling finally called forth, Sam cleared his throat and laced his fingers on the table before grabbing his courage with both hands to meet his parents' gaze. He had to make an extra effort not to stop at his mother's reassuring one and also accept his father's rigid eyes instead, and at that point he coughed again as he felt the tension grow.

"I want to apply for Stanford," he finally revealed, pulling back a strand of unruly hair with his fingers. When John Winchester put on an even more austere expression, Sam mistook it for confusion and took care to add: "It's in California."