“Wow,” Ari said, passing by the well-kept offices. Leather chairs and wood desks. It was a far cry from her state-funded office. “Seems like you have it all together.”
Mr. Davis opened a door at the end of the hallway and they climbed a set of stairs to the second floor. “This is the dormitory. Each boy shares a room with a roommate. No bunks. Individual beds. We assess each child and try to place them with someone who will be a positive influence, although in general, we don’t really have behavior problems here.”
Ari peeked into one of the rooms. Clean and tidy, yet personalized. In her experience, many of the residential facilities prefer the kids to not have their own belongings in the room because it causes problems. This looked more like a college dorm room than a standard group home. “Nice. How do you get them to keep it so clean?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It’s part of the rules, and we take our rules and discipline seriously.” He walked down the hall toward a lounge area between two wings. He gestured for her to sit in a chair and he took the one opposite Ari. “At any time, we house 12 to 15 boys. Our goal is to teach them respect, accountability and how to uncover their talents. Once we discover their natural gifts, we help cultivate them to become better members of society. The average stay is until age 18. Some end up working for us when they complete their time. Most go to college.”
“So, Curtis could be here for the next three years?” Ari wasn’t sure how he would feel about that when he found out.
Mr. Davis nodded. “This is a long-term program. We look for a specific type of offender and commit ourselves to changing their lives.” He turned his eyes on Ari. Her neck itched under the intensity. “You’ve seen the system fail these kids. You know how hard it can be for them, shuffled back and forth between programs. Pawns in political agendas. That’s not what we do here. We are here to make successes out of these young men and make them productive members of society. Between counseling, education, physical activity, and a close bond with the other residents, the GYC has a very high success rate. ”
“How high?”
“About 95 percent. We have the occasional kid who isn’t a right fit for us.”
“Ninety-five percent?” Ari tried to keep her jaw off the ground. In her job, 25 percent was successful. “And you think Curtis is the right fit?”
Mr. Davis smiled. “I do. Judge Hatcher thinks so, and I’ve reviewed his file. According to our pre-assessment, I think he’ll do very well here.” He stood up. “Let me show you the rest of the building, and we’ll meet back up with the boys and sign contracts and work out any other information we need.”
Ari followed Mr. Davis through the rest of the facility, more impressed with each passing moment. Even so, there was a tiny knot in her stomach with the odd situation between them. Did he truly not recognize her? Maybe it was the conservative work clothes or the well-lit building? She would have thought she’d made up the whole encounter except she could see the small bruise on his neck created from her over-eager mouth. She also hesitated over the theme here; teaching the kids to fight. She wasn’t sure that was the correct way to go about making more peaceful youth. As they walked back down the stairs to meet in Mr. Davis’ office, Ari couldn’t shake the feeling, but realized it wasn’t her place to judge. This was work and another assignment. She should just be happy to have another kid off the street and safe.
***
Leaving the day behind her, Ari pushed open the door to the restaurant and searched for Oliver. He’d sent her a text around noon suggesting, no—demanding, they meet for drinks and food. Not looking forward to eating a microwaved dinner anyway, Ari eagerly texted back YES! and bolted from the office the second the clock hit six.
Oliver was nowhere to be seen, but Nick Sanders waved at her from a booth in the corner. Her phone buzzed in her hand. Stopping in the middle of the restaurant, Ari checked the message.
Working late. Sent a replacement.
“Sneaky,” she muttered, slipping the phone into her back pocket. She approached the table with a semi-faux smile on her face. Nick stood when she came to the table and gave her a genuine grin and a kiss on the cheek in return. While hanging up her coat, she raised an eyebrow at the move but said nothing, sliding into the booth seat across from him.
“Thanks for meeting me since Oliver stood me up,” she said. Ari un-wedged a menu shoved between the napkin holder and the wall.
“He doesn’t like to disappoint you,” Nick said. She noticed his jacket and tie were off and he’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. He’d obviously come straight from work, too. “Plus, he and I both agree you work too hard.”
Ari rolled her eyes. “You both work as much as or more than I do. He’s just hoping that a little flattery will trick me into bringing a cheeseburger back home for him.”