The Story Sisters

“Frankly, I don’t see what good we can do here,” Alan said. Annie took that to mean he was done with the children and their problems and that he wanted to get back to Cheryl. She really didn’t blame him for being defensive. She wasn’t even angry anymore. She had already decided that no matter what Alan thought, she was going to remain hopeful.

“Elv wanted this meeting,” she said. “Let’s look toward the future.”

The counselor was dressed casually in jeans and a black sweater. Miss Hagen told them she herself was a recovering substance abuser and that it was important to let go of the past and not be overly judgmental. Elv had made mistakes, she’d been an easy target for drug use—the sensitive child of divorce—but she was a lovely, intelligent girl, ready to start anew. Of course there were still issues. It would take time to build trust.

When at last Elv came into the room, Annie had to will herself not to cry. Elv stared straight ahead as she sank into a chair. She had done something awful to her hair. It was shorn so that bits of her scalp showed through. She wore shapeless blue jeans and a sweatshirt. There was a new tattoo she’d tried to hide by bunching up her sweatshirt.

“Hey,” Elv said to no one in particular, eyes downcast.

“Let’s just sit in silence for a while,” Julie suggested. “That way we can get used to sharing the same space without hostility or aggression.”

Alan and Annie shifted in their chairs. There was some sort of ruckus out in the hallway. Two students argued, calling each other asshole. Annie looked up at the same moment Elv did; for some reason they both laughed. It was probably nervous laughter, but it was laughter all the same. That was good.

It was cold in the therapy room. Elv’s fingernails were bitten to the quick. She had picked up the habit of tapping her foot. She’d been begging for this meeting for the past two weeks, ever since she’d last seen Lorry, but her father was always too busy.

“You cut your hair,” Annie said, genuinely shocked.

“I look great, right?” Elv said. “Just kidding,” she added. She didn’t seem as angry as she had before. Her clothes were so baggy, they didn’t seem to belong to her.

“Actually, it was part of the life skills management program. The staff made the decision to cut it.”

“You mean as a punishment?” Annie was outraged.

“It’s behavior management,” Alan said, correcting her.

Elv’s eyes flitted over to her father. Annie remembered what they’d been told, not to expect too much.

“People start to think about going home when they finish a year of school,” Julie said. “So it’s entirely appropriate for Elv to start coming to terms with that idea. This might be a perfect time for her to reconnect with her family. A move home could be very beneficial.”

Alan interrupted. “Isn’t it a little early to think about that? This is our first meeting.”

Elv was biting her nails. She tried to think about the woods, the pond, the way Lorry had held her, what the next part of the story might be. Did he find his dog alive or dead? Did he seek retribution or flee?

“Well, I think we need to consider how well she’s been doing. Elv has been one of our best students,” Julie Hagen said proudly. “She excelled in her English class.”

It was a bullshit class, but there was a wash of pride across Elv’s face. No one else had bothered to read anything even though they could choose whatever they wanted, even a comic book; they all sat silently. The other students looked at her, stunned, when she’d stood up and talked about the way Dimsdale represented all of the repressive factors in society, the people who judged you for all the things that had happened to you that you didn’t have any power over anyway, things like love and faith and tragedy. She actually sounded moved, as though she might cry.

“Good. Then maybe she’s where she belongs,” Alan suggested. “This place has a great deal to offer a student.”

“You shouldn’t have come,” Elv said to her father. “You don’t care what happens to me. You never did. I don’t even know why you bothered.”

“Because you’re my daughter,” Alan said.

“Am I? Where was I all summer when you were getting your stupid divorce?”

“I don’t know why she’s bringing this up,” Alan said to the counselor. “It was over five years ago.”

Miss Hagen said she could see they had a long way to go be fore they were communicating effectively. Everyone had the best intentions, but maybe this was enough time for their initial meeting. They could meet again next month.

“I can’t wait till then,” Elv said, panic-stricken. Miss Hagen was trying to usher them out, but Elv urged her to continue the meeting. “I want to leave now,” she pleaded.

When Miss Hagen opened the door, it was clear that the commotion in the hall had escalated and grown violent. Two heavy-set male counselors were holding down a tall, skinny boy. They had a blanket wrapped around him so he couldn’t struggle. The boy was screaming, but his cries were muffled. One of the counselors moved to sit on the boy’s back; he looked big enough to crush him.

Miss Hagen quickly led the Storys back into the therapy room. Annie felt dizzy, stunned by what she’d seen. Is this how the staff treated a disturbance at Westfield? Alan was beside the counselor, asking to see Elv’s grades. As they went back inside the therapy room, Elv came up close to her mother, so close Annie could smell the industrial brown soap students used in the showers.