Whoever had decided on Hillview High hadn't known what they were doing. It became obvious pretty fast that she didn't know what she was doing either. She didn't understand most of what was being taught in any of the classes, people kept staring at her in the hallways, and before lunch she had already been sent to the principal's office.

It wasn't fair. The teacher had asked a stupid question. And what did the alphabet have to do with calculus anyway? It didn't make sense.

At least they had finally installed a ramp. It was improvised and inconvenient, but it did the job. She would only have to cross it twice a day if she was lucky.

Allison rolled herself down the ramp to the sidewalk below and glared at the person casually leaning against a shiny car. "What are you doing here?"

He pushed away from the car to open the passenger door for her. "Hello to you too. How was your day? It was good, Trevor, thank you. How was yours? Not too bad. Rounded up two cases. And still I found time in my busy schedule to drive you home from school."

Allison scoffed. "I didn't ask you to come. I can find my own way back to the nuthouse, thank you."

Trevor sighed impatiently. "It's not a nuthouse, Ally. It's a group home. They have the facilities you need. The alternative isn't so fancy."

"Don't call me Ally," Alison hissed.

"Get in the car, Allison," Trevor told her sternly, "there's things we need to discuss."

Allison gritted her teeth and moved her wheelchair closer to the car. She knew she didn't have much choice.

Trevor stepped up to her and Allison reluctantly placed an arm around his neck so he could support her and lift her in the passenger seat. Carefully he adjusted her position. "Comfortable like that?"
She gave a curt nod and he closed the door for her.

Allison watched as Trevor folded her wheelchair and placed it in the trunk of the car. She hated it. She hated being dependent on others to do the simplest things. It was humiliating.

Trevor closed the trunk and sat down behind the wheel. "Seatbelt," he said pointedly.

Allison raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? What do you worry will happen? Me ending up in a wheelchair?"

The look he gave her was unimpressed and Allison sighed while putting on the seatbelt.

"See?" Trevor smiled as he drove off. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

She crossed her arms and ignored him as she looked out the window at the passing scenery of big houses, nicely trimmed front lawns and pristine yards. How well she fit in here. She sighed.

"So, how did it go today?" Trevor asked after a while of silent driving. When he was met with more silence, he sighed again. "It's a good school, Ally. Just try, will you? It's just two years. You need a high school diploma. Who knows, perhaps you can even go to college."

Allison snorted. "Yeah, right. I ain't that smart. And don't call me Ally."

Trevor shook his head. "So you're just giving up? What happened to that headstrong kid I met all those years ago?"

"You hated that kid," Allison said quietly, "you told her to grow up. You said she gave you grey hairs before your time."

Trevor ran a hand through his hair, which was indeed slightly greying, and sighed. "I deal with kids like you every day. And you were a real pain in the ass. But you weren't a quitter. I won't let you quit now. You have a chance to make something of your life. It might well be your last chance. You know the deal." The stubborn look on her face spelled thunder, but he wasn't finished. "That brings me to what I needed to talk to you about. Therapy. You need to go."

"I don' need no shrink," Allison growled.

Trevor sighed. "I was talking about physical therapy actually, though it might not be a bad idea to talk to a counselor."

"No," Allison stated firmly.

"Allison, be reasonable."

"I don' need some shrink to tell me what a poor deprived little girl I am. I don' need to talk about how I feel about this an' that. I just want to be left alone."

Trevor sighed as he pulled onto a driveway of a large home. It was build out of red and yellow brick with a large porch and a large front yard. In the yard was a swing set with a sand bin and a slide. Against the porch was a sturdy ramp and a metal rail.

Allison glared at the house.

"I'm sorry Allison, but that's not gonna fly," Trevor said, "we have an agreement. Therapy is part of the deal. It won't be so bad. You can even do it here. I'll find someone that will make house calls."

Allison let out a sigh. "Can I go inside now?" She asked. She smiled at him sweetly. "I have homework."

He turned to her and gave a stern look. "This isn't open for discussion, Allison. This if for your own good. You're nineteen. That means no more short cuts or strings being pulled. Me helping you is a courtesy. I won't be her to take care of you forever."

"Help me?!" Allison scoffed, "how did you ever help me?"

Trevor narrowed his eyes as he climbed out of the car. He leaned back inside to glare at her. "I kept you out of prison, didn't I?"

Allison gritted her teeth and glared back at him, but he slammed the door without giving her another look.

...

Dandelion Cove, definitely not a cove and no dandelion in sight, was a group home. Though, what kind of group home, Allison wasn't sure of. At the moment they only seemed like a group of misfits.

There was Jamie, who had been removed from his parents' home due to domestic violence. The twelve year old boy usually sat quietly in a corner, staring out of the window. The only time he moved was when dinner was served or when he had to go to school. She had heard he had been assigned a bedroom when he fist came to the group home, but whenever he was told to go there he'd had a panic attack. Now they had made him a bed in the window seat and that was where he slept every night.

Then there was Andrew who was autistic with ADD. His parent couldn't handle him and had dragged him from institution to institution until they had found Dandelion.

Nine year old Kayla was also in a wheelchair because of some sort of muscle dystrophia. She relentlessly tried to coax Allison into a wheelchair race which Allison always ignored. Luckily the girl knew to take a hint and always swiftly directed her attention elsewhere with the same enthusiasm.

Usually Kayla found a willing victim in Mitchell who had a mental disability. Allison found it hard to guess how old he was, but hadn't bothered to ask anyone. He was sweet to everyone and knew instinctively when to leave her alone. Which was most of the time.

Fifteen year old Tim was closest in age to Allison. He shared her hostility and used the time he spend in the house glaring at everyone that came near him. His favorite pastime was slamming doors and giving people the finger while blaring music screamed out of his headphones. Strangely enough, out of all the inhabitants of the group home, Allison found him the most tolerable. The few times they crossed paths in the kitchen, they exchanged grunts and went their separate ways again and it seemed to suit them both fine.

And lastly there was little Lola, who was the youngest at six, but had oddly enough been in the group home the longest. Her father had passed away years ago and her mother was currently unable to take care of her due to mental instability, though Lola visited her regularly. The situation hadn't affected the girl's joyful nature. She was a happy child and her giggles were heard often throughout the house.

Even Allison wasn't always immune to her smiles.

"Allison!" Lola came bouncing into Allison's bedroom and jumped from one foot to the other with an excited smile on her face. "How was your first day of school? Auntie Val said it is a really big school. Did you make a lot of friends?"

Valerie Tanner, or auntie Val as the younger children called her, was the woman in charge of the group home. She was a round woman in her late forties with a warm nature and a friendly smile. She seemed to know exactly what every individual child in her care needed and wasn't put off by either Tim or Allison's indifference towards her.

"The door was closed, Lola," Allison said without taking her eyes off the textbook on front of her. It might as well be written in ancient runes. She couldn't understand anything. Already she was mentally preparing herself for another confrontation with her math teacher. Luckily Trevor hadn't mentioned the incident. When he had picked her up from school she had half expected a lecture. Not stirring up trouble in school was after all also part of the deal.

Did that mean he hadn't been informed?

"What are you doing?" Lola's curious voice sounded closer now and startled Allison. She hadn't realized the girl was still there.

"I'm busy," Allison said curtly, "go play with Andrew or Jamie." Even though Jamie rarely showed any reaction, Lola would still sit with him in the window seat chatting away at him like they were the best of friends.

A movement and loud music passing her door made both girls look up. They could just see Tim's black shirt vanish down the hall. Lola leaned towards Allison conspiring. "Tim didn't go to school today."

Tim had started his freshman year, but didn't attend Hillview. His school was located at the other end of town and he had to take the bus to get there. He had left before Allison that morning and apparently only returned now. She couldn't care less where he had been. She wished she could have dodged school as well.

"Leave Tim alone," Allison told the girl, "and me too. I'm busy." She dismissed the girl with a wave of her hand.

Lola pouted but obediently left the room.

Allison sighed and dragged her attention back to her schoolbook. Go to college! Trevor must have lost his mind.

She pushed the book away and pulled a photograph from her pocket. Half of it was ripped away and there were creaks in it from being folded, but it was her most precious belonging. It reminded her of happier times. Carefully she ran a finger across the image. The old pain she was so familiar with came back and she took a deep breath. No. She couldn't' show weakness. Weakness meant he had won. Weakness meant that she was broken. And she had sworn nothing would ever break her again.

With a determined look she placed the picture on her desk. She could do this. Or at least she would try. She had made a promise after all. Maybe it was time to finally keep it.