Pyramid Lake by Paul Draker Page B

fine, Ames. I just want to see you soon. That’s all.”
    “Hang on…” I could hear Jen’s muffled voice in the background, saying something to her. Then my daughter was back. “I love you, Daddy. I’ve got to go. Jen says she’ll call you back in a bit.”
    • • •
    “It’s a phone,” I said. “A goddamn phone. Half the kids in her class probably have them.”
    “Trevor, I don’t want my seven-year-old daughter—”
    “ Our seven-year-old daughter.”
    “— our seven-year-old daughter to have a phone. Especially one with Internet access.”
    “You’re going to handicap her.” I kept my voice as even as I could. “She’ll fall behind at school.”
    “Frankly, I don’t think that’s what we need to be worried about. Guess how many other seven-year-olds are in her fourth grade? Her classmates are nine . Look…” She took a deep breath. “She didn’t tell you, I guess. I didn’t think she would.”
    My stomach tensed. “Tell me what?”
    “Hang on a sec.”
    I could hear Jen’s steps, a door clicking closed.
    “We’ve had some more problems,” she said more quietly. “At school.”
    I stood up. “What kind of problems?”
    “With teachers. Other students. The principal called me in again.”
    “Amy’s smart, Jen. Smarter than her classmates and smarter than her teachers. She understands what’s going on around her a lot more than most kids do. Trust me, it can be tough going when you’re—”
    “Trevor, you’re not listening! You never listen!” She was almost shouting. “They want me to make an appointment now, take Amy to see a psychiatrist.”
    I sat down hard, ears ringing. “A psychiatrist? No, she… We can’t let them do that to her, Jen. Oh, fuck, just say no. You have to say no.”
    “They thought Amy might benefit from a different learning environment. One that’s better suited to her needs, where they have specialized staff and more experience with difficult—”
    “ Who said?” My teeth ground together. “ Who is telling you this shit?”
    “The school counselor—”
    “I’m coming down there,” I said. “I’m catching a flight tonight. And tomorrow we’ll go see this fucking social worker at her school. Together. We’ll find out exactly why these incompetent idiots think my perfect daughter needs to go into some kind of… some...” I choked. “Jen, she’s only seven !”
    “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you,” Jen said. “I know you want to help, but you’ll only make things worse. For Amy.”
    “Don’t you understand? These fucking psychiatrists—these so-called professionals—all their bullshit is so completely subjective. There’s no science behind any of it; they can say anything they want, dream up some mystical mumbo-jumbo term and label Amy with it, making her a pariah for life. A ‘different learning environment’ better suited to her ‘needs’? Do you even know what kind of place they are talking about?” I took a deep breath. “Because I sure as shit do.”
    I started pacing, trying to calm down.
    “We don’t have a choice,” Jen said. “They won’t let her stay in school unless we have a psychiatrist assess her. Maybe moving her to a different program would help.”
    I shook my head, knowing I needed to make Jen understand what was at stake here, what the consequences were for Amy.
    I couldn’t let my daughter go through what I had as a kid. It would destroy her.
    “She won’t be the same person,” I said. “It’ll be even worse for a girl—especially a sweet, gentle one like Amy. You have no idea what kind of kids she’ll be exposed to, six hours a day. Juvenile psychopaths, Jen. Fucking little monsters—they’ll eat her alive. They’ll hurt her. Ruin her. And what if this psychiatrist likes the free vacations and cruises that the pharmaceutical reps comp for him, and he decides Amy needs drugs?”
    “They don’t do that anymore,” Jen said. “I know you had it rough, but it’s not