Disclaimer: If you believe I own White Collar, then I have a bridge I'd like to sell you.

This is a brief look at WC's main characters (Neal, Mozzie, Peter and Elizabeth) as young people on the cusp, wondering what they're going to do with their lives. I won't say who's who. Hopefully the writing is good enough that you don't need names. ;-) Also, my apologies to anyone named Brad.


My dad was NYPD. Beat cop. At least that's what my mother told me when I asked. Killed in the line of duty. She never talked about him much, but she looked at me with her eyebrows raised just so, and I got the message. No child of hers was going into law enforcement. She wants me to be a doctor. Maybe I could do it. I like science. But when we had to dissect that frog last week in Bio, it was terrible. The formaldehyde made my eyes water and it was cold, so my hands were shaking, and my lab partner kept teasing me so I missed the damn midline. I guess I could try it again, but I really don't want to. And that's just it. If I have problems cutting up a frog, then how am I supposed to cut up a person?

So here I am at the career fair, standing at the NYPD booth like a dumbass and waiting for the guy to find a brochure in the boxes behind him. He'd better hurry up, or I'll be late for French. That Air Force booth looks interesting too, but I'm not sure about the military. Never been that good at following orders. Everyone says I'm good at giving them, but they don't let you give orders in the military unless you make some kind of high rank, and I don't plan on doing it that long. If it could pay for college, though ... hmm. Maybe I could do the Air Force, go to college, and then after I graduate I could do the NYPD thing and be a detective. That might be cool. Anyway, I'd be higher up the food chain than a beat cop. Maybe it'll be safer. Maybe it'll keep my mom from worrying.


Candy Spiracolli wants to get married. Seriously, that's her plan. Find rich guy, marry him, have his kids, be a housewife. We're all sitting around on the grass in the quad, and everyone else nods when she says this and I'm absolutely horrified, because this is proof positive that everyone around me is an idiot, and Candy's exactly as brainless as I always thought she was. I'm never going to get married. Never ever. Who needs a man to be happy, anyway? If Brad the Lying Bastard is anything to go by, they're nothing but trouble.

So Candy wants to get married? Good for her. Here's what I'm going to do: in two years I'm going to finish my English degree and then it's either grad school, teaching school, business school, or cooking school. I haven't talked to anyone about cooking school, it's just a kooky, private dream, but wouldn't that be fun? I think I'd like to major in Pastry. Maybe open up a bakery, or a patisserie. Or I might just go whole-hog and try for an event planning business. I'd do all the catering. I'd need partners, though. That isn't the sort of thing you try on your own.

God damn it! I'm trying to lay waste to a city here, and the mohawk morons behind me are totally breaking my concentration. I'm at level 55. If I win, my name goes up to the top of that list and stays there for like, forever. This is IMPORTANT. Of course, so is doing homework, but I always get that done somehow, so it'll be okay. I mean, it's ... what? Astrophysics problems? Some Calculus? Pff. Child's play. Finals are coming up next week. So I just have to make sure I don't doze off during the tests and I'm good. I'm so psyched; transferring upstate at the end of the semester, where they have a decent tech department. Can't wait to get acquainted with all those lovely processors. This is going to be a blast. I don't know what I'll major in, but there will be computers in there somehow, this I know. Or history. I love history. Everyone keeps asking me what I'm going to do after I graduate and I really don't have a clue, but I always say, "I'm leaning towards accounting," and that shuts them up pretty quick, because accounting is boring. Come to think, it might just be the perfect cover. It would even pay the bills. Even superstar hackers need dayjobs, right?

We have to write another essay. I hate writing essays. This one is supposed to help us figure out a life path, and we have to base our career choice on what we're good at. I can't come up with anything. Well, I can come up with something funny and stupid, but I don't think that'll impress Mrs. Westhaven. (Mrs. Westhaven's my English teacher.) So when she asks, I tell her I'm not good at anything. She says nonsense, everybody has a talent. But I'm still stuck, so I ask Linda and Frank what I'm good at. (Linda and Frank are sponsoring me through the end of the school year, even though I'm aging out of the system on Tuesday. They're waiting until June to throw me a combination 'Bon Voyage'/18th birthday party. Linda and Frank are pretty cool.) I ask them my question seriously, but they just laugh and say I'm only good at two things: drawing and getting into trouble.

Well, what the hell good is THAT? It's not like I can make a career out of drawing and getting into trouble.

Might be fun to try, though.


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