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RORY
Mondays are the worst day of the week. You’ll never hear anyone talk about how excited they are that tomorrow is Monday. But apart from the normal back to work blues, this morning might be more difficult than others.
As I sit in my office, I pull the file for Anabelle Baucom. She’s been my problem child all year, and instead of getting better, her behavior is only getting worse. Saturday night at the dance, they found her and a group of kids hanging out on the football field, drinking. They might have gone unnoticed, but when they started throwing rocks at the scoreboard, the sound of breaking glass drew attention to their activities. After bringing the kids up to the parking lot, Jackson and Principal Aguirre explained they had to call their parents to pick them up. Anabelle went ballistic. She started arguing and yelling. Even kicked the principal’s car repeatedly, leaving a huge dent on the side. She was out of control and only calmed down when her father arrived.
Principal Aguirre and I decided together that pressing charges wouldn’t help Anabelle. It’s obvious there is something going on with her, and she needs help. So this morning I have a meeting with her and her father to figure out the best way to do that. Opening her file, I glance over everything once more. It seems the behavioral problems started at the end of the last school year. Before that, there really isn’t anything that stands out.
“Ms. Monroe,” the male voice calls out to me.
I glance at the door and see Anabelle and her father hovering in the doorway. With a smile, I stand to greet them.
“Good morning, Mr. Baucom, Anabelle. Please come in and have a seat.” I gesture to the chairs in front of my desk. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”
Mr. Baucom shuts the door behind him. “Yeah, well, you didn’t really give me a choice,” he says while sitting. “Do you know how long this will take? I can’t be missing work for stuff like this.”
“Well, I can assure you the reason we’re here is important.” My eyes dart to Anabelle, who has her head bowed with her hair practically covering her face. “Over the past year, there’s been a noticeable change with Anabelle, and it’s only getting worse. I’m worried about your daughter, and I feel that maybe if we come together to help her, we can figure out what’s going on.”
“There ain’t nothing wrong with her. She’s fine at home. Maybe school just ain’t her thing.” He dusts the dirt off his jeans, refusing to make eye contact with me.
“Mr. Baucom—”
“Call me Troy,” he interrupts. “Mr. Baucom was my father.”
“Troy.” I nod and fight the urge to roll my eyes. “I think we should ask your daughter what the problem is instead of assuming.” My eyes move back to Anabelle, and wearily, she looks up at me. “It’s ok to talk in here,” I tell her.
“There’s nothing going on. All the teachers here just pick on me.” Anabelle’s words are defiant and confident, but her facial expression doesn’t match. She looks like a scared little girl.
“So the reason you got in trouble for drinking and kicking in the door of Mr. Aguirre’s car is because the teachers pick on you?”
Anabelle shrugs. “Maybe.”
“When I go through your file, it makes little sense to me. All of this started a little less than a year ago. Even your transcripts from the previous county where you attended are all positive.” Anabelle looks out my window, ignoring me completely. “There’s usually a reason behind such a drastic change in behavior, especially in such a short amount of time. Your dad and I are here for you.”
Unsure of what more I can say, I look at her father for a little help. He removes his ball cap and smooths out his hair. “Maybe I should think about putting her back in counseling.”
“I didn’t know she used to go.” I quickly flip through her file, trying to see what else I might have missed.
“It won’t be in there. My last job had good insurance, so it was private.” Troy takes a deep breath and lets it out. “She went for about a year after my wife died.”
“When was this?” I look at Anabelle. She’s still staring out the window, and I watch as a single tear falls down her cheek. My own heart clenches in pain, remembering how hard it was for me when I lost my mother.
“About three years ago.” Troy clears his throat and sits up straighter. “If I tell you I promise to look into counseling, are we good here?”
Before I can answer him, there is a loud knock on the door. “Come in!” I yell. The door opens, and it’s Jackson. “Before you leave, Officer Nash needs a word with you.”
Jackson walks in and stands to the right of me. Anabelle nervously looks between the two of us, almost in a state of panic.
“I thought you said the cops wouldn’t be involved!” she cries out.
“Anabelle, Principal Aguirre will not be pressing charges. That’s what I told you Saturday night. Aside from the extensive damage you did to his car, they caught you drinking and destroying school property while attending a school function. You can’t just get off with a warning for something like that,” Jackson says. He then looks over at Anabelle’s father and speaks to him directly. “One of our officers runs a program for at-risk youth. They meet on Saturday mornings and perform a couple of hours of community service. We have signed Anabelle up for six weeks.”
“And what if I say no? Why would I want my daughter hanging out with a bunch of punk kids and some do-gooder cop with a God complex?” Troy stands up and makes his way to the door.
“The school still has the right to discipline Anabelle for her actions. Instead of suspension, they’ve enrolled her in this program. If she doesn’t attend, we will notify Ms. Monroe and there will be further disciplinary action.”
“No.” Troy shakes his head.
“Troy, they can expel her,” I warn him.
