Guidance Counseling 

In high school, he'd flummoxed his guidance counsellor, Mrs. Marsh, who told him: "Theo, I don't know what to do with you. You're too talented."

"I'm too talented," Theo agreed wholeheartedly.

"Normally, I tell students to play to their strengths, but between you and me, we both know that what I really mean is, they don't have a lot of choices. Frankly, most of the students who come through my office are screwups."

"I'm no screwup," Theo nodded.

"You're getting offered so many prestigious academic and athletic scholarships. You realize one of these schools offered you a full ride to be on their football team, and they don't even have a football team? The easiest scholarship ever."

"But not one that would offer me chances to improve or to learn from my mistakes, if I ever make one."

"That's the spirit. Meanwhile, you've already been accepted to that accelerated MBA program, the first ever high school junior. I didn't even know you were applying to an MBA program."

"No, ma'am, neither did I. They just sent me the acceptance letter in the mail one afternoon."

"I didn't know they were allowed to do that. So, Theo, that leaves us in a weird place. Generally, I sit down with students and help them understand what their options are. Really that means I help them understand what their options aren't. Like, just before you came in—do you know that girl Sally Melbourne?"

"That scoliosis is really unfortunate, isn't it, Mrs. Marsh?"

"Did you know Sally Melbourne told me she wants to be a Broadway performer? Would you believe? She stuttered through our whole interview: 'I w-w-want to b-b-be an a— a—actress!' Do you understand how easy my job is most days, Theo?"

"I thought hers was an interesting interpretation of Our Town."

"In your case, son, I'm not going to try and tell you the things you can't do, because frankly, I can't think of any. So instead I'm going to ask you to think about this before we meet again: what do you want to do?"

"Thanks, Mrs. Marsh. I really do appreciate your time. I better run off to lacrosse practice now."

"Let's meet again next week, Theo. Close the door on your way out."

The Under-the-Bed Monster 

Harrison's fear of the Under-the-Bed Monster was strong, but even stronger was his fear that his bossy sister would find out and tease him about it, so he didn't say anything, even when it was obvious the monster was under there. Even when he could hear it snoring. Even when he could see its two furry feet sticking out from underneath the bed.

"I know you're down there," he called out.

"No, I'm not," answered a voice from under the bed. "There's no one down here."

It wasn't very reassuring.

In school they were working on adding numbers, and Harrison practiced to get his mind off the monster. "One plus one is two. Two plus two is four. Four plus four is—." He couldn't remember what four plus four was.

"Twelve," called out the voice from under the bed.

"No it's not," Harrison argued. He counted on his fingers. "It's eight. Just like how many big hairy ugly monster toes you have."

And while Harrison was distracted with the counting, the monster crawled out from under the bed, and ate him.

The House of Doors 

Though the boy was scared and knew better than to enter the old house, his sister was curious and brazen and never did admit her fear (which made her a sometimes difficult playmate). "It looks like no one's been through this door in years!," and she charged off into the darkness. The boy followed reluctantly behind, hoping there wouldn't be too many cobwebs.

Instead of an empty house, they found an old man seated at a wooden table that he'd already set with three tall steaming mugs. "Well there you are," he smiled, not at all surprised to see them. "Would you like some hot chocolate?"

The boy blinked while his eyes adjusted. "Nobody drinks hot chocolate in the summertime." But his sister was already climbing into the high wooden chair toward the mug.

"Some people like hot chocolate in the summertime," the old man said. "In fact, if it's summertime here, that means it's wintertime somewhere else. I suppose everything is in fashion, somewhere."

The girl, who was often told at school that she was very unfashionable, got curious about these other places where unfashionable things were in fashion. She sniffed at her hot chocolate. "What's on top?" she asked. "Whipped cream?"

The old man chuckled. "It does look like whipped cream, doesn't it? On each cup of hot chocolate, I put a dollop of cumulus cloud, fresh from the sky. And this is very special chocolate, given to me by the ancient Aztecs. I travel a lot, and I like to bring back souvenirs."

The boy joined them at the table. "I've never seen an ancient Aztec."

"Of course not," said the girl, pushing up her glasses. "They're ancient. They all died a very long time ago."

The old man nodded. "But that doesn't mean you can't meet them."

"My name is Clarissa," the girl announced, suddenly aware of her manners. "And this is my brother Finley. He's shy."

"I'm not shy," said Finley. "I'm just cautious! Sorry we barged in your door. We thought this house was empty."

"Not at all. I was expecting you. My front door is always open to you. But if you're going to be a guest in my house, then I'm going to have to ask you to be more careful about charging through the other doors."

The children noticed then that the old man's little house was full of doors, but not the kind of doors that one finds in normal houses. The doors in the old man's house were all in the wrong places: some were in the middle of the wall; some were on the ceiling. There was a door set into the stairs and a door set into the sofa. There was even a big knob set into the kitchen table, and the girl realized suddenly that the table was a door. Some of the doors were square and some were round and some were wood and some were metal; some had elaborate handles and knockers and peepholes, and one had a big metal wheel that sealed it shut, and some were just normal unassuming doors. But the doors filled up the house, and they were all closed.

And a metal loop tied to the old man's waist held hundreds of keys that clattered and jangled whenever he moved.

The old man looked at his enormous watch, and stood up. "Please drink your hot chocolate. We have quite a day ahead of us, and I don't know when we'll have time for another snack."

If wishes were fishes 

If wishes were fishes,
the sea would be tea,
and hope like a rope
of pearls around me.