Author: Restive Nature
Genre: Crossover
Type: WiP
Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural
Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.
Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)
Chapter Rating: PG-13 for language.
Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.
Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)
Summary: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.
When It Changes
Chapter Ten
A Regular Little Gene-ius
“Uh Dad,” Dean waited until his father had put down his fork and gave his son full attention before setting the slip of paper on the table. They were eating a late dinner; since the garage had been open late to accommodate a fleet of semi’s that had come through needing servicing. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to look the paper over before Max and Sam were following suit with their own slips of paper.
“What’s this?” John asked guardedly as he took Dean’s slip.
“Parent teacher conferences,” Dean snorted. John sighed. Just what he’d been looking forward to.
“Ms. Fowler said that the sooner you get them in, the more likely you are to get the time that you want,” Sam explained. John nodded, reading that exact information on Dean’s paper. It also mentioned that if you had more than one child, you just filled out the slip of the youngest child, including the names of your other children and their teachers. That way the school could co-ordinate as best as they were able.
Feeling that it was just best to get it over with, John pushed his plate away and pulled the pen that he kept in his shirt pocket out. He contemplated for a moment, and then selected the three last slots of the evening. He dutifully wrote down the three kids names and looked to his children for confirmation of their teacher’s names. He knew that the Fowler woman was Sam’s teacher. And Dean indicated that his homeroom teacher of Mrs. Armstrong was all they needed. John turned to Max and she informed him that he could just put down Mrs. D’Amato, their substitute teacher. That accomplished, John slid the paper over to Max and the child folded it carefully and rose to put it into her backpack.
“Make sure you give that to your teacher first thing in the morning,” he told Max. She nodded. “If we don’t get those times, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it,” John shrugged.
“I’ll tell her,” Max promised. She returned to the table and the matter was settled.
A few days later, Max had another slip of paper for John, listing the times and rooms to attend each separate conference. “Mrs. D’Amato asked me to make sure that you made it,” Max confessed in worried tones. “She said she had something important to talk to you about.”
John was a little startled. As far as he knew, Max was doing exceptionally well in school and was having very few problems, aside from the popularity business that the boys had noticed. As in, their landlord’s daughter was trying to lord thing over the Winchester family. It bothered them not at all, recognizing the girl for what she was.
“Is it bad news?” John demanded harshly. Max shrugged and bit her lip.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “She didn’t look mad or anything.”
“Well, I guess we’ll find out when we find out,” John tried to soothe the girl.
The evening of parent teacher conferences coincided with Election Day. But that didn’t bother John. He hadn’t resided in the county long enough to be eligible to vote there. So he was able to remain at the garage until closing time, not needing to leave to vote. But still, he had to race home to clean up. He told the kids to save him a plate of dinner and he’d eat it when he got home. He made it to the school for the first conference with a few minutes to spare. He used that time to locate Mrs. Armstrong’s room. She was in the hall as he approached, smiling in greeting. She ushered him into the room and proceeded to tell him how pleased she was with Dean’s performance to date. The only problem as she saw it was that when it came to certain portions of his schoolwork, Dean was content to do the bare minimum allowed and leave it at that. It was a similar refrain to John. All of Dean’s school career, teachers had been lamenting that Dean had so much potential, if only he’d apply himself. John promised Mrs. Armstrong that he’d talk to Dean about the importance of all the subjects he was enrolled in, but as he left, he pretty much forgot the matter. Dean was probably as tired of hearing that little speech as John was of giving it.
It was the same with Ms. Fowler. She gushed over Sammy’s natural book smarts. Cited that he tended to be a little on the shy side, which was completely natural for his age. John didn’t have to promise anything about Sam though. Shyness wasn’t something you could lecture out of a kid.
As John walked back towards the elementary side of the school though, he began to get a small tinge of dread in his stomach. Max was the question child. She was smart in both a book and a street style. John had witnessed firsthand though, how readily lies dripped off her tongue when needed. He was pretty sure that she didn’t lie outright to him, but he also knew that there were secrets about herself that she kept and guarded fiercely.
He knocked at the doorframe of the fifth grade classroom. A woman with plain brown hair, glasses hiding eyes of an indeterminate color, looking to be in her mid to late thirties rose from behind the desk. She came towards him a wide smile on her face. “Mr. Winchester?” she asked in a softly cultured voice. John recognized immediately that she wasn’t native to this area.
“Yes,” he nodded, shifting the two folders he’d received from the other teachers to his left hand. They contained the sampling of papers and tests that the teachers had chosen to present to the parents. He held out his hand and she took it, shaking it quickly and firmly. She dropped her hand to her side and the other came up to gesture to the desk she’d drawn up to her own.
“Please have a seat,” she offered. She moved some other papers out of her way, then clasped her hands and leaned forward. She waited until John was settled before she began. “Just to let you know, I have mostly good news to report about Max and the bad isn’t bad per se.”
“Okay,” John smiled. “You’ve piqued my interest.”
The woman smiled back. “Well, my first order of business,” she began, “is to inform you that the school board has asked me to continue as fifth grade teacher. A little move up from substitute.”
John nodded again. He knew how hard it was to find teachers in small towns and knew that the board had probably jumped at keeping her around. He knew that Max liked her. “Congratulations,” he murmured.
“Thank you,” Mrs. D’Amato responded automatically, though she seemed to be pleased with the job she was offered. “To quickly fill you in, I do have a few years experience in elementary scholastics. Mainly fourth and fifth grades. I took some time off from teaching to raise my two children. Once they entered kindergarten, I returned to school to work on getting my credentials for teaching junior high and high school courses.” John tiled his head to the side. He didn’t worry too much. He knew she would have to have credentials to hold the position as an actual teacher versus a substitute. In Montana, a substitute teacher didn’t require completed college credentials. Only full-time teachers did.
“And that leads me to the first bit of good news,” Mrs. D’Amato continued, a faint trace of a very amused grin in her mouth. “You see, I’m still taking night courses at the college. While the children were working on an assignment, I was going over a bit of my own work. Your daughter just happened to turn in her sheet, and correct one of my mistakes.” She waited for the news to sink in.
John sat up a little straighter. “You mean she knew…?”
“Yes,” Mrs. D’Amato grinned. “Max correctly solved a college level mathematical equation with no help from me, a calculator or even a pencil and paper.”
“But…” John was mystified. He had no idea that the girl could do anything like that. He knew she was an excellent math student. The constant stream of papers she brought home, all marked with 100% proved that. The teacher then pulled a paper from the file at her elbow. She slid it across the desk to John. He took it, the numbers swimming around the sheet before his confused eyes.
“This was a test administered to the twelfth grade class last week,” Mrs. D’Amato explained. “You might have seen one in Dean’s folder?” She paused to make sure she had the boy’s name correct. But John didn’t gainsay her. “The seniors are allotted forty minutes to complete this test.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Max completed it in twelve minutes.” John’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly. Mrs. D’Amato leaned forward again. “In fact, if she hadn’t had to take the time to write out the calculations, as required on the exam, I think she would have been done sooner. And again, she did it without benefit of a calculator.”
“But she…” John just had no words. Mrs. D’Amato gave him a few moments to collect himself.
“I take it you had no idea?” Mrs. D’Amato queried carefully. John shook his head in the negative. “Max told me that her mother died earlier this year. I’m sorry.” John nodded and dropped his eyes to his lap. It was hard pretending a depth of feeling that he just didn’t have for this fictitious, to a degree, person. “She also told me that you were unaware of her until the Kansas Child Welfare department was able to get ahold of you.”
“That’s right,” John agreed. He saw that she was about to ask more questions and knew that he had to nip that in the bud. “When the boys and I got to her, she was really in a state of shock. It was all we could do to even get her to say two words.” Mrs. D’Amato nodded sympathetically. “She still doesn’t like to talk about her life with her mother.”
“I understand,” Mrs. D’Amato sighed. “But in this case, perhaps Max is starting to feel comfortable enough with her new family, that she’s able to express her natural mental capabilities. In other words, she feels that it’s okay to be smart.”
“Well, I certainly have encouraged her in her schoolwork,” John informed the woman. “It always comes first with the kids.”
“Glad to hear it,” Mrs. D’Amato murmured wryly. “I’m sure you can see that your acceptance of her, well, her genius, is an important factor to her well-being and development.”
“Genius?” John demanded in surprise. Somehow his mind just hadn’t gotten to that level yet.
“Perhaps,” Mrs. D’Amato nodded. “Of course, we’d have to run more tests, to make sure. But Max certainly excels in most areas of the curriculum.”
“Where is she lacking?” John demanded.
”Not lacking,” Mrs. D’Amato clarified. “It’s only in composition that she is uneven. She has an amazing vocabulary for someone her age, but she needs to work on sentence structures and identifying basic grammar concepts. She reads at a university level.”
“I’ll be damned,” John finally whistled as he leaned back in his chair.
“This is where the bad comes in,” Mrs. D’Amato edged into the conversation. John perked up his interest. “The reason I feel that this could be bad for Max is because the level of her intelligence has led to some minor troubles, both academically and socially.”
“How so?”
“Well, as you know, Mrs. Kirkegaard had labeled Max as a troublemaker?” She didn’t need to see John nod his head to know that he was aware of the whole situation there. Mrs. D’Amato was a little more in the dark, only having been told that the previous teacher was retiring early. “I think that stemmed from Max’s ability to finish her work so quickly. It gave her too much free time with nothing to occupy herself.”
“I can see how that would be a problem,” John conceded.
“Since I realized what was going on, I have allowed Max to use that free time reading from my private library, or working on some extra papers,” Mrs. D’Amato explained. “It also causes a rift between her and the other children. Her life experiences and outlook are different. Defined by the knowledge and information she stores in her mind that the other children haven’t reached, and won’t for another seven to eleven years.”
“So basically she acts too much like an adult and not enough like a little kid,” John surmised. The teacher nodded. “So what can we do about that?”
“Nothing much I’m afraid,” Mrs. D’Amato sighed. “Sometimes these things have to resolve on their own.
The two continued to talk about Max’s development and finally, when their time was up, Mrs. D’Amato asked permission to further test Max. John replied thoughtfully that he’d talk it over with Max and let them know right away.
That evening was quite the revelation to him. He never considered that Max’s intelligence was at the level her teacher believed it to be. But knowing now what a unique little girl she was turning out to be, he should have expected it.
When he returned home, he told all three children that he was happy with what he’d been told. They returned to their activities as he sat down to his solitary dinner. But as the children were getting ready for bed, John knocked on the door to Max’s room. After a moment, she opened the door to see John standing there.
“Maxie, there’s something I was told tonight that I’d like to talk to you about,” he informed her as gently as he could. “In private.” Her eyes widened a little fearful, but she stepped back and he entered the room. He shut the door behind him and lounged against the door. Max stood, waiting for the boom to lower. With a smile, John told her about Mrs. D’Amato springing her IQ level on him. She looked chagrined, but a little pleased with herself. He didn’t bother to ask why she hadn’t informed them of how smart she was, because he could see that that was not a conversation starter. He then informed her that Mrs. D’Amato wanted to test her further.
“Do I have to?” Max asked warily. Indeed, she already knew what those tests were like, since Manticore had administered them with regularity.
“You don’t have to,” John conceded easily and truthfully. “But it would make it easier for them to decide what to teach you, if they don’t have to wade through what you already know. Plus, you would be learning new things and you wouldn’t get so bored at school.”
“That’s true, I suppose,” Max gave in. She thought it over for a moment. “Okay,” she grudgingly agreed.
“All right,” John stood up straight. “I’ll write a note for your teacher and you can give it to her tomorrow.”
“You have to give your permission?” Maw asked curiously. John shrugged.
“Apparently so.”
Max’s testing was a lot easier than she expected it to be. In Manticore, testing was a full blown operation that fell into a few different categories. They tested your mind, both the knowledge you already had and then your ability to problem solve. They tested you physically, to make sure that your endurance was up. They tested your health, to make sure that the genetics encoded were doing their job. And then there were the last tests, the ones that Max despised. It all came under the heading of psy-ops to her. Psychiatric operations and evaluations. Max never knew what to expect when she walked into that wing. That combined with the few things she did know about what went on behind those steel doors was enough to give her nightmares. It was almost as bad as the dreams of the basement of Manticore and the nomlies that lived there.
But in the real world, testing was a lot easier. Mrs. D’Amato would hand her a sheet of paper, tell her how much time she had to complete it and then leave her to it. She went through five cycles of tests and after the second, realized that the tests were end of year for ninth through twelfth grade. And then on into college level material.
She pretty much aced those. Then she was sent to the school counselor, who administered IQ tests. Again these were nothing new to Max. Manticore had them as well. After those, Max wondered if they’d get around to testing her endurance, but aside from her gym class, it never happened. And once she was done those tests, it was just a matter of waiting for the results. Within a few days of completing the tests, the teacher sent another note home. But this time, Max was privy to the contents.
She got home to find that John and the boys were preparing supper already. Max had been down to the store and had been helping out Mrs. Gallagher, whose shoulder still wasn’t fully recovered. Max waited for John to wipe off his hands, before handing him the note.
“In trouble again Maxie?” Dean asked and then tsked. Max threw him a grin.
“Only if I listen to you,” she quipped back. John hushed them and opened up the note. He scanned the contents quickly and let out a brief whistle. He folded the paper and slipped it into his shirt pocket.
“Tell your teacher I’ll call the school tomorrow during my lunch break,” he informed Max. She nodded her head and then went to wash up.
“How’d she do?” Sam asked, trying not to let the little tendril of jealousy he was feeling creep into his voice.
“Really well,” John answered shortly, turning his attention back to the simmering from a jar spaghetti sauce on the stove.
“Ooh, looks like you’re not the smarty pants around here anymore,” Dean teased. Sam simply threw his older brother a glare.
“Dean,” John said quietly, prompting his eldest to hold his tongue, for now. John took a taste of the sauce, and then set the spoon to rest on the counter. He turned to his youngest son. “Sam, suck it up.” The boy’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’ll tell you something,” John continued, including both boys in his hard stare. “In this life, you’re always gonna find someone who is better than you are at something. Whether it’s school, hunting, whatever. So just do the best you can and don’t let the rest of the crap weigh you down.”
“Well, at least I’m smarter than Dean,” Sam sighed, throwing his brother a smirk this time. Dean just casually flipped him off behind their father’s back.
“And he’s better at other stuff than you are,” John huffed.
“Yeah Sammy,” Dean jeered. “Like everything else under the sun.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” John murmured. There were a lot of things in this world that his boys hadn’t experienced yet. And he certainly had enough of the constant one-upmanship they engaged in now.
“Is supper ready?” Max asked genially when she returned to the kitchen. She’d heard the conversation while she was down the hall in the bathroom, but paid no mind do it. She knew that Sammy was proud of his intelligence, but she hoped that he realized that nothing could take that away from him. John nodded in response to her question as he brought the food over to the table. Sam helped him while Dean got something for them to drink from the refrigerator.
As promised, John called the school and spoke to Leo Thompson about setting up another conference. Now that they had Max’s IQ and test results back, they wanted to discuss them with her father. John and Max came to the school that evening where Leo and Mrs. D’Amato were waiting for them. Initially, the teachers had wanted to talk with just John, but he felt that Max needed to have some input. After all, she was the one who was going to have to do as they told her. He wanted to make sure though that she wasn’t going to be forced into anything she didn’t want.
After the initial pleasantries were over and the group was seated at the conference table in the teacher’s lounge, Mrs. D’Amato got down to business. “So Mr. Winchester, you’ve seen Max’s scores.”
“Yes,” he agreed mildly. There was no reason to go over them again, since everyone at the table was aware of them.
“Well, we’ve thought up a few options for Max,” she continued, smiling at the girl. Max found herself smiling back easily. “The first is that Max could actually take her GED. She certainly has the knowledge for it.”
“Really?” John was surprised. Again, he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because he was so used to taking things one step at a time. Certainly in some situations he liked to plan ahead or have a contingency plan. But when it came to the more mundane things in life, he was content to ride things out.
“A general equivalency diploma is rated the same as a high school diploma,” Leo explained. “I know that it seems like a lot of employers look down on that. But it loses the stigma when accompanied by other credentials.”
“What do you mean ‘other credentials’?” John asked suspiciously.
“College degrees,” Leo clarified with a small smile. “I’m sure that there are many fine schools that would accept Maxine into their next semester. Some even with a full scholarship.” John could feel the protest rising up in his throat and looking at Max, could see the same instinct in her.
“But that’s only if Max wanted to go to college,” Mrs. D’Amato interjected. She too could see the sudden panic on the young girl’s face. And after the inferences she’d made from her and John’s conversation previously, she thought that separating the girl from her family so soon could be extremely damaging to the girl. She had shared those feelings with the principal and they had agreed to address that later in the conversation. But Leo had wanted to put the option out there anyway. “There are two other options. The first would be more difficult than the second.”
“What do you mean?” John asked, slightly irritable. He always hated it when people talked about things without explaining the details.
“Sorry,” the woman apologized sheepishly. She realized that she had gotten ahead of herself. “I should have explained that I was talking about home schooling.” She paused to take in John’s reaction to that. He just waited for her to go on. “In the last few years, there has been a push towards this by more… mainstream parents. Many different cultures practice it in one form or another. In the United States, though, it has the… stigma I want to say, of only being used by weirdly religious people.” She glanced at Max and then bit her lip. “Of course that isn’t really true.” She was gratified to see Max nod.
“Home schooling simply offers a more convenient way and form of teaching some children,” Leo interrupted. “The teacher, usually the parent, can choose the curriculum that will most benefit their child and can mold the school day to fit around the family’s activities and needs.”
“It sounds good,” John put up his hand to get them to stop trying to convince him. He already knew his answer. “Unfortunately it wouldn’t work. I have a full time job and there isn’t anyone else to do it.” Both Mr. Thompson and Mrs. D’Amato were nodding.
“We’re certainly aware of that,” Mrs. D’Amato agreed. “That’s why we feel that the third option might be the best one.” Both John and Max waited. “We’d like to put Max into some ninth grade classes. Mathematics, computers and social studies.”
“Why ninth grade?” Max asked suddenly, confused. “I scored well in the twelfth grade exams, didn’t I?”
“You did Max?” her teacher confirmed.
“The problem is,” Mr. Thompson interjected, “is that if you continue public schooling, and then you are required to earn a set number of credits in each subject before you are eligible to get your diploma. You have to go through the whole system. You can’t just skip to the head of the line.”
Max nodded and then fired out her next question. “So why not all the subjects? Why just those?”
“Well,” Mrs. D’Amato fielded this one, “as I told your father, I have found that you still need to cover some material in your composition and social studies work. And then there’s also the fact that I think you need to have friends your own age. It would be hard to keep them if you never see them.” Her smile softened the words and Max thought about not being able to play with Justine or the other kids. It was a rare event, but she had come to find that just letting loose and being a real kid was okay.
“But won’t it be weird?” she persisted in asking, “for me to be there only some of the time?”
Mrs. D’Amato smiled and rubbed at Max’s shoulder that was near her. “I think you should just worry about trying to do what’s best for you and let those others kids worry about themselves.” Max mulled this over quickly and then nodded.
“So that’s what you want to do?” John asked his daughter directly. Max nodded again at once.
“Yes sir,” she confirmed. At that point, anything would be better than the constant boredom she’d endured under the tutelage of Mrs. Kirkegaard.
“All right then,” Mr. Thompson said as he pulled out a few file folders. He began to peruse the contents, making some notations on an empty schedule. Max recognized the fifth grade schedule, since Mrs. D’Amato hadn’t seen fit to make any changes yet. “I think, if you can let Max go early from her morning class, she can make it to Mr. Janowski’s math class,” he murmured absently. “And she’ll be a few minutes late for gym, but that shouldn’t be a problem. And ninth grade computers at the same time as fifth, but a different room.” He glanced up as he finished writing. He set the sheet he’d just filled in on the center of the table. “What do you think?” he asked of Mrs. D’Amato.
The teacher pulled the sheet towards herself and nodded. “We’ll have to talk to Mrs. Shank and let her know about the gym classes.” Everyone nodded and Mrs. D’Amato slid the paper to Max and John. Max picked it up and John glanced at it from her side.
“I’ll have to figure out where the ninth graders are in their classes,” Max murmured thoughtfully, then looked up. “Do I start these classes right away?”
Her teacher shook her head. “No. You’re right that you’ll need to go through the material they’ve covered up to date. But with your smarts, it shouldn’t take you too long.”
“Should we say week after next?” Mr. Thompson decided. “That’s when math and science are starting their next chapters and course of studies.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” John commented. “That will give Max plenty of time to play catch up without overexerting herself.”
“I wouldn’t overexert myself,” Max protested in indignation.
“Perhaps not,” Mrs. D’Amato smiled. “But we certainly don’t want you to burnout your enthusiasm for learning by doing too much of it in such a short period.”
Max lowered her eyes and tried to contain a snort. It wasn’t like she hadn’t already learned this stuff. All she would be doing was reviewing and familiarizing herself with the course material. But she was happy enough with what the teacher and principal offered. “Okay,” she conceded. There were smiles, but she noticed then that a tenseness had come over Mr. Thompson and Mrs. D’Amato’s faces. They kept sneaking glances at each other and then at John. She glanced at John, but he seemed as clueless as she was. She realized that they wanted to talk to her father, without her there. She wondered if she should call them on it, or just give in gracefully. Calling them on it, there was a good chance that they would clam up even more. If she gave in, then there was the chance that John would tell her what they spoke of. And even if he didn’t, Max could always eavesdrop on their conversation.
“Will you please excuse me?” she asked politely as she stood up. The trio nodded, looking a little startled. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she murmured as innocently as she could muster. She headed out of the room and walked a ways down the hall. Her instant return trip was much more silent and she stood listening at the door while the grown-ups spoke hurriedly.
“There was something else we wanted to talk to you about Mr. Winchester,” Mr. Thompson spoke in hushed tones.
“What’s that?” her father demanded, his voice equally quiet.
“Beverly informed me of what you had discussed during your conference with her,” Mr. Thompson began. “I understand that Max has suffered a number of shocks and displacements this year. Some of them quite traumatic.”
“She has,” John conceded. It certainly wasn’t a secret anymore.
“We were wondering,” Mrs. D’Amato had broken in, “if Max has been to see a psychiatrist or a family counselor?”
Max could hear the wariness in John’s voice as he answered cautiously. “No, she hasn’t.”
“I thought so,” Mrs. D’Amato ruminated aloud.
“When our elementary school counselor administered Max’s tests, she thought it might be a good opportunity to talk to your daughter about the events of this year, or anything else she might want to talk about,” Mr. Thompson seemed to broach the topic carefully, “Max proved to be very recalcitrant. Of course we understand why that is.”
“But now that she’s beginning to relax somewhat, and as we discussed before, let herself be a normal kid again, it may be a good idea for her to talk to someone.”
Max wondered if John was beginning to feel tag-teamed.
“I don’t know about that,” John began quickly. He was on the defensive as soon as the topic had been brought up. “Max doesn’t like doctors and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like psychiatrists.” Max had to bite back a cynical laugh. John really didn’t know how deep her mistrust and hatred of certain doctors and their ilk that she despised, ran.
“It’s just a suggestion,” Mrs. D’Amato soothed him. “We just feel that it would benefit Max to be able to talk to someone with whom she feels safe.”
“Well,” John seemed to calm a little bit, “she certainly enjoys talking to Mrs. Gallagher.”
“Molly Gallagher?” Mr. Thompson clarified. Then he laughed. “I know a lot of people who like talking to Molly, me included. And you can’t deny that she’s certainly the queen of discretion and confidentiality.”
“Oh really?” John’s interest was piqued.
“There’s no finer woman than Molly Gallagher in this town,” Mr. Thompson stated unequivocally. “If Max feels comfortable talking to her, then that woman will take Max’s secrets to the grave. But on the other hand, if she feels that Max is doing something that compromises her own well-being, she’s on it quicker than a dog on a cat.”
“I think what Leo is trying to say,” Mrs. D’Amato drawled, “is that Mrs. Gallagher is a trustworthy person.
“Well, she isn’t a certified counselor,” Mr. Thompson chuckled, “but she certainly has enough life experience to offer good solid advice to anyone who asks.” There was a pause and the man became serious once more. “But if you ever do feel that Max needs someone with clinical experience, we’ll certainly provide you with information about getting some help.”
“Thank you,” John said with relief. “I appreciate that.” And he did, in ways neither of the teachers realized. He’d been afraid from the get-go of this topic, that they’d be requiring Max to undergo psychiatric testing and then getting the rest of the family in on it as well. And that was a headache they certainly didn’t need. He once again found himself feeling almost blessed that he’d chosen this small town. In so many other places, they’d just thrust his family into a system that barely survived, let alone functioned as it was supposed to.
At that point, the three of them heard Max’s footsteps returning. Being the polite child that she was, she knocked on the door and waited for someone to call out a welcome before she re-entered the room. She took in the smiling faces and the three adults stood up. John shook first Mrs. D’Amato’s then Mr. Thompson’s hand. He skirted around the table as the group made their farewells.
As he and Max left the building, heading for the car, John wondered how to broach the subject that they’d just been discussing. But Max beat him to the punch.
“They want me to talk to the counselor, don’t they?” she demanded bluntly. But her voice held no rancor.
“You were eavesdropping?” John demanded, amused. He shook his head. “Yes, they do.”
“What did you say?” Max asked quietly. They had reached the car and John unlocked the doors. True, it was only a short drive home, but it was also evening and John preferred driving over walking in the dark.
“That it’s up to you,” he answered truthfully. Max nodded her head. Not one lie had passed his lips and she was satisfied.
Chapter Eleven
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