Sawyer’s on the floor, her arms and legs spread out. We’re in the treehouse. She’s sighing because life isn’t turning out as she planned.

“But you’re only seventeen,” I say.

She sighs again and sits up. She tells me that right now is the foundation for the rest of her life.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

She glares at me and reminds me of what I already know: she wants to be a neuroscientist.

“But isn’t that so much school?”

She remarks that if she ever wants to get a job in this economy, she’ll have to be the most qualified woman in her field.

“Fine, but sometimes don’t you just want to let loose?”

She purses her lips, then resolutely states what her father’s been feeding her since she was five: that she can’t afford to lose any momentum.

“What’s it like having your whole life already planned out?”

She pauses, then closes her eyes. I can see her imagining her parents, both in lab coats, smiling down at her as she unwraps the chemistry set and the microscope, the lab goggles and the embroidered lab coat. I can see her remembering her first places at the science fair, all of her math team ribbons that hang proudly off of her mantelpiece.

“Sawyer?”

Eyes still closed, she tells me it’s claustrophobic. She’s visibly upset and that scares me. I’ve never seen her cry.

“Hey, why don’t we do something?”

She opens her eyes and asks me what.

“Let’s go to the pool.”

She sniffs, reminding me that the high school is closed for the weekend and so is the pool. She also mentions that it’s ten thirty at night.

“But that will make it all the more fun. C’mon.”

She takes my outstretched hand, and we climb down the tree-house ladder. On the drive there, she tells me she’s scared.

“Scared of what? We’re just going to school. I thought you liked school?”

She smiles playfully, but then her face falls again. She says that she’s scared of the future. I can see her picturing her beaming parents, probably holding the science fair trophy she won last week.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all work out.”

When we arrive at the school, she gets out of the passenger seat and pulls out her master key that she received when she was elected student council president. She whispers if anyone catches us, I’m dead. We get to the pool. It’s dark in the natatorium except for the shimmering pool lights. She pulls off her t-shirt and shorts, revealing her sports bra and underwear. She dives in.

“Wait for me!”

She smiles as I take off my clothes. We lie in the pool on our backs. She tells me she feels like dancing.