Seventh Dimension - The Door, Book 1, A Young Adult Fantasy
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We crowded into the principal’s office around a small oak table on the third day of testing. Why did I have to take the same test twice? I took the first one on Monday and then a similar test on Tuesday. Midway through the second one, I just filled in the blanks. I didn’t care anymore.
Remi and my mother were to the right. Mrs. Twiggs sat across from me. The psychologist, Dr. Silverstein, was at the head of the table. Books lined the wall behind him. The voices of students rose and fell as they passed by the office doorway. The subdued lighting in the room darkened my optimism about the outcome. I hoped I wouldn’t be expelled.
Remi had driven home from work to bring us. Mother dressed up more than usual and wore heavy make-up and high heels. Since I had been suspended, I didn’t need to wear a dress, but I wore one anyway. I dabbed on enough make-up to cover a zit that had popped up overnight.
Staring through the frosted glass out the office door, I wished I were somewhere else. The room became uncomfortably quiet as we waited to begin. Two sets of official-looking papers labeled “Shale Snyder” were stacked in front of Dr. Silverstein. He reminded me of an eccentric scientist, wearing glasses that were too big. His bushy eyebrows stuck out and I wanted to pluck them and watch him cringe.
Mrs. Twiggs turned on a tape recorder and gave the perfunctory greetings. “Doctor Silverstein, our school psychologist here at Garden High School, has conducted an examination of Shale’s psychological, intellectual, and cognitive abilities. He’s a leading authority on ‘troubled kids’ and has prepared a report to share with us.”
Mrs. Twiggs readjusted the tape recorder to the center of the table. “I was going to set up this meeting for next week, but because the parents of Shale Snyder insisted we hold this hearing as soon as possible, I re-arranged my busy schedule to accommodate them.”
“Appreciate that,” Remi said. Mother nodded.
Mrs. Twiggs opened a plastic packet and dumped the contents out on the table. “This is a pin that was found on the hall floor where Shale attacked Judd Luster.”
Mother examined the straight pin. “I wondered where this went to. Shale, where did you find it?”
“It was on the floor in my bedroom, against the wall.”
“I must have dropped it when I fixed the zipper on your backpack.” She picked up the pin and rubbed it between her fingers. Mother eyed me questioningly, but didn’t say anything else. She then turned to Dr. Silverstein. “What about the testing?”
Remi reached over and grabbed Mother’s hand. “Do you have the results?”
Dr. Silverstein flipped through his documents to look for the pertinent information. He adjusted his glasses and began. “Shale Snyder was referred to me for evaluation following an incident at school. She has a long history of juvenile delinquency. Our first intervention occurred when she failed first grade.”
The doctor took a sip of coffee before continuing. “However, Shale did successfully repeat the grade, but continued to exhibit behavioral problems when she entered high school, including disrespect for authority, inability to follow rules, painting graffiti on the school hallways, cheating, plagiarism, and initiating fights, which, as I alluded to, resulted in a student requiring medical treatment. The latter event is what prompted this psychological evaluation.”
“I never drew on the walls,” I protested.
Remi admonished me to be quiet with his eyes.
Dr. Silverstein continued. “I performed cognitive testing twice. The second set of testing was done to validate the results of the first test.”
I wished someone had explained that to me.
He stopped reading, looked up, and twitched his eyebrows. “Mr. and Mrs. Heller, the second test contradicts the first test. I couldn’t come to definite conclusions.”
He slid the papers over to Mother. “On this test she was a genius, scoring 150 plus. On the second test, a day later, she was, how should I say it, she had an I.Q of less than 70—borderline retardation.”
Dr. Silverstein leaned toward them. “How should I say this? Nothing on the second test validates the first test. She scored the exact opposite on all portions—except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“She has a gift.”
“What gift?” Remi asked. “The only talent I see is her tendency to get into trouble.”
“Hardly,” Dr. Silverstein said. “There’s a pattern in these tests I can’t explain.”
“What pattern?” Mother asked.
“She has a gift. Maybe it’s art, writing, music, mathematics, language—I’m not sure, but in time, we’ll know. Gifted kids have special needs to reach their God-given potential.”
“Gifted?” Mrs. Twiggs fumed. “She’s a juvenile delinquent going around hurting students with pins and turning in plagiarized work. She could have killed a student. Imagine the lawsuit we’d have on our hands.”
The clock struck three. Soon school would let out. I had misjudged Dr. Silverstein. I should have taken the second test more seriously.
Mrs. Twiggs looked like a teakettle ready to explode. “I don’t see how you came to that conclusion.”
I imagined steam dripping from her nose.
“I’m not finished.” Dr. Silverstein took another sip of his black coffee. “That is the I.Q. portion of the test.”
The principal rubbed her forehead and opened her purse, pulling out Tylenol. “What are your recommendations?”
“I’d recommend counselor intervention on a weekly basis to work through some deeper issues. I wouldn’t expel her from school.”
Mother heaved a sigh.
“No expulsion!” Mrs. Twiggs’s face turned multiple shades of raspberry. “She must be expelled. In fact, I demand her expulsion.”
“I’m giving you my recommendation,” Dr. Silverstein said.
Mrs. Twiggs’s mouth twitched. The Tylenol must not be working.
She stood and paced around the room, muttering under her breath. Without recourse, defeated, she gave in reluctantly.
“Very well, Doctor Silverstein. This isn’t what I wanted, but I’ll submit your recommendation to the school board. If anything happens that puts students at risk, though, you will be responsible. I completely disagree with you, I might add.”
Her position and opinion couldn’t have been clearer.
“One more chance for this troubled young lady,” she continued, “though a three-day suspension is mandatory.”
Even after the missed classes with the testing? What a bummer.
“But, mark my word, if she does anything else to cause any disruption at this school, she’ll be expelled immediately. Do you understand, Mr. and Mrs. Heller?”
“We understand, Mrs. Twiggs,” Remi said. “I promise you, she won’t do anything else. I’ll make sure of that.” He turned towards me, but I refused to look at him.
“Great. I’ll hold you to that. Good luck,” she added. “You’ll need it.”
“I’d be willing to do some counseling with Shale in the meantime,” Dr. Silverstein offered.
“We don’t need anything more from you,” Mrs. Twiggs said. “We’ll consider counseling later.”
The meeting was over, although the tape recorder was still running. What kind of counseling?
Mrs. Twiggs thanked Dr. Silverstein glibly and headed towards the door.
Mother asked. “Can I have my pin back?”
“Have your pin back? No,” Mrs. Twiggs stated firmly. “I need this as evidence for the future. You will be back.”
Not if I could help it. Was it legal for her to keep the pin? Mother and Remi didn’t say anything to protest. I lagged behind as the rest of them walked outside. Quickly, I flipped the switch off on the tape recorder and grabbed the cassette. Who used these ancient things anyway? One less person.
Chapter Four
THE DOOR