Andrew
Pernilla went quiet, sipped from her tea, then stood up and went to the window. She had a view out to the courtyard from her office - she quite enjoyed having it, too. It helped her think. The courtyard was never crowded, but it was never deserted, either - there was always someone sitting and reading a book, or taking a walk, or occasionally even practicing their powers, and today was no exception.

She sighed. "Most people don't come here with criminal records, dear. Especially not serious ones. Most people come here without bruises on their hands. Most people have to be taught how to fight here." She looked out onto the courtyard again. It was sobering to remind herself, sometimes, that they were just kids.

"We won't be teaching you how to fight, because you've been fighting all your life. I'd like you to go to college because you're bright, and, quite frankly, because you deserve a good future you don't have to fight tooth and nail to get. The world taught you how to fight, flower, but you still need to learn that you don't need to."
John
Margarita had the exact same view as Mrs Pernilla, the view of the sparsely-populated courtyard fitting for a room that was styled as such, minus the massive concrete wall that laid beyond the large field. She only wondered how good it'd be for a playing field.

Margarita could only look at her counsellor's eyes as she made the remark. She knew she was right in every point she had made, but Margarita knew what she did at the time was for the best. She didn't have a definitive response to give back and try to explain to her. 

"I... I don't know. I never thought of college, I..." She was taken aback for a brief moment. The thought of a higher education was never in her realm of thinking; it was, at the time, impossible. And now it was being offered to her? "But still, why or who would even take in a... Parahuman B student with a fucking... Criminal record?! I know my *Papà* Is a great mechanic and I'm learning about his trade from him recently and that's good enough if you're thinking of my future. But me entering and finishing college? It's just as impossible as... I don't know. I never considered myself bright." After all, she was a woman of strength, not of smarts.

*'The world taught you how to fight, flower, but you still need to learn that you don't need to.'*

"Then what am I going to learn here?" She asked, her attention unintentionally being grabbed by a stain on the hardwood table, Margarita bringing her finger to rub it off, which worked. Somehow.
Andrew
Pernilla shook her head, her gray ponytail gently bobbing back and forth. She returned to the table, sat down, and began leafing through the stack of papers she had brought from her desk earlier. "Oh, you're a B student already? That's lovely. I would have assumed worse, considering your circumstances. I'm think we can improve those grades even more if we work hard, don't you?"

She smiled a particularly knowing smile, and pulled out a sheet of paper, printed face against the table so it was difficult to see what was on it. "You still have at least a year of grade school left before college. More, if you need it. Once your grades get good enough, colleges might even start seeing that criminal record as 'life experience'. They do tend to like people who stand out, you know."

She pulled out a few more papers, then presented them to Margarita in sequence. Three papers containing a full list of classes offered at Newton's Cradle, along with the times they're scheduled at, and a fourth one an empty table - 6 rows for each day of the week, Monday through Friday.

"What are you going to learn here? Well, you'll need mathematics, English, physics, chemistry, history... Probably a bit of rudimentary Swedish as a second language too, if you'd like. I'm sure you'll find a use for it." There was a real, palpable spark in Pernilla's eye, and her smile was growing almost devious. She seemed to be enjoying herself with this. "Six classes a day in total. Why don't we get you a schedule now?"
John
"Well, I just deliver cocaine, not snort it." She tried to play it off as a joke, but with its miserable failure, she wiped the stupid look off of her face and avoided eye contact for a while, pretending to observe the tiles for a while. "But uhm... Still, won't they look at my entire school record? I don't think straight As from a prison school curriculum would do much... N- not that this sucks or anything."

The smile was... Unnerving in a way, but it seemed genuine. "Yeah- no, I just need to finish year 12, if I recall. I just hope I don't rot here to have to retake it..." She did some arm stretches to help herself relax amidst the unnerving tension and anxiety that had been eating her, despite not being actively chewed out on. "A- and do universities really overlook criminal records just to enrol food students?" For once, Margarita had felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe this college thing wasn't so bad.

Once presented with a whole file of papers that was indeed a class schedule, she was impressed by how accomodating this prison is, despite its looks. Chemistry, physics, math, even Swedish- the juvie, of all places, had its own school system, and a flexible one too. Hah.

"Uhh.. Before I jot down anything else... Are there any other subjects? Just.. You know. Making sure before I write things down." Grabbing a pencil, she wrote down the appropriate stuff that was on the sheet other than the class schedule itself. Name, then her ID number, then so on and so forth. She rubbed her finger at any mistakes she made thanks to her bad handwriting, her parahuman physiology essentially turning her into a giant, walking pencil eraser on top of many other things.

Mrs Pernilla's smile was creepier than ever, and even if it felt unsettling for the Italian, she tried not to think too much about it.

|
"Sorry if this is too much of a personal question, but erm... Mrs. Pernilla, are *You* Parahuman? Or is it us just juveniles? Who else is parahuman in this place? I don't see much of the staff here do funky things like me or some of us."
Andrew
"Your record won't be a problem, and neither will studying here. You're taking the same exam as everyone else, dear." Pernilla chuckled a little as she gently nudged the 3 pieces of paper with a list of classes toward Margarita. "The subjects you can take are all there. I don't know much about elsewhere, but for higher education here in Sweden, you'll need mathematics, English, and Swedish as a second language, plus 9 more subjects of your choosing."

The amount of options was, for most people, dizzying. Classes starting at 8:30 in the morning and going on... Well, into the night. Still, with a rough guide, it wasn't impossible, and there was hardly a time limit on making a decision, at least.

Pernilla paused for a moment when Margarita asked about parahumans at Newton's Cradle. It was a sobering reminder that the girl really didn't know much of anything about where she was or what she was doing there. It was a depressing circumstance, the way she had been brought to a foreign town in the back of a van with her hands literally tied behind her back, but Pernilla couldn't change that. She could only improve things going forward.

She let herself grow a gentle layer of leaves and a few screens of small white flowers in her hair, partly to answer the question and partly to brag a little. The small joys in her day-to-day life, she supposed.

"I'm parahuman, yes. In fact, pretty much everyone here is. If the lunch lady wasn't when she started, she probably is now." Pernilla chuckled. "It's the reason we're understaffed, actually. For the important work - like teaching, administration, and security, you know - we can only hire parahumans. Anything else would be too risky, or simply pointless. And, well, as far as we know, about one in a million people is a parahuman."

She paused for a moment to let that fact sink in.

"So don't you ever let anyone tell you you're not special, flower. You're more rare and valuable than you can possibly imagine."