JLA Watchtower (Archive)

"Why don't you tell me about your day, Simone? See what we can find...between the lines."

The little green chihuahua skirted across the otherwise immaculate tile floors of St. Perez's Preparatory School. Garcia bobbed and weaved, avoiding the heavy, stylized shoes of the young people who thought they were the upper crust of society. Really, they were more like the weird, floury part that doesn't get cooked properly, but no one was going to tell them that out loud, especially not a little dog who could get his head crushed open by a pair of cleats. Being a pet in a school that technically didn't allow pets was something of a balancing act anyway, and at least Garcia wasn't as obvious about it as Hernando the pot bellied pig, that ham.

"Well, Doctor, I, um, came to school pretty normally. I tried my best to pay attention in my morning classes, but..."

"...but you've been having your problems again?"

Garcia ignored the cry of alarm as he ran out from underneath the janitor's legs, twisting to the side just in time to avoid being crushed by a deadly basketball. Ignoring the churlish laughs of the jock crowd(girls could be so cruel!), Garcia ran for the bleachers, crawling under the main wooden bench and licking his teeth as though wishing his little doggie lungs could call out 'Wolverines!' or some similar rallying cry. Instead, he carefully made his way forward, knowing that salvation was within his grasp...!

"...I know it's a waste of my parents's money, Doctor, and I know it's wrong, I mean...look! I've even tried holding needles in my hands, s-so the pain'll wake me up..."

"Shh. Shh. This isn't a place for shame, Simone. It's alright. I know you feel sorry. But you're still making the mistake of relying on yourself. I can't help you...if you don't let me help you."

"Doctor..."

"...tell me, Simone, do you want to waste more of your parents hard earned money? Do you think a confused girl who cuts herself to stay awake can handle that kind of information? Do you need that kind of responsibility?"

Keeping his eyes on the prize, so to speak, Garcia put on an expression of great, grim concentration. There! He shot out of the bleachers like lightning, throwing skirts in the air and causing cries of, 'Ohmigawd!' and 'That little rat-dog!' and 'Ooh, that's a nice breeze...' as he plowed through the cheerleaders, making his way around to the other end of the gymnasium. Finally coming upon a heavy pair of socks that looked, he had to admit, adorable on the normally ultra-dignified young woman with her nose in a book, he lightly batted her ankle and gave a rakish grin that looked entirely inappropriate on a dog.

"...no, Doctor Moffit. I need...I need, you...please...please take the numbers, take the cards...!"

"...well, alright. But to be there for you, Simone..."

"...you need to be there for everyone else. I promise. I'll get the other girls on the team to come to one of your one on one sessions. I swear! Please!"

"I'm sure they'll thank you, in the end." Faye Moffit adjusted her glasses, smiling as she drank in the power she had over this spellbound mind. "Trust me..."