CHAPTER 2
“Oppositional defiance disorder.” Red Rock had assigned me a shrink, and ODD is what she insisted I had. We were sitting in her dark office decorated with weird posters that I guess were supposed to be inspirational. One had a bunch of geese flying in formation and a caption that read, “With a plan in place, you can go miles.” Funny. I couldn’t go miles because they’d taken away my clothes and my shoes so I wouldn’t run away. I was wearing pajamas and slippers in the middle of the afternoon.
My shrink droned on, reading from a big, fat book that apparently contained all the secrets of the mind. “‘Often loses temper, often argues with adults, actively defies or refuses to comply with adults’ requests or rules, deliberately annoys people, blames others for his or her mistakes or misbehavior, is often angry and resentful, is often spiteful and vindictive…..’”
“Does that sound familiar?” she asked. She looked like a pilgrim. She was skinny and had a bowl haircut and was dressed in this high-necked ruffled blouse even though it was broiling in her office.
I was pretty out of it, as you can imagine. I’d been up all night, stuck in my little room until the goons came to deliver me to some equally burly nurse. I’d immediately christened her Helga. Helga confiscated my iPod and all of my jewelry, even my belly-button ring, ignoring my protests that the hole would close up, forcing me to get it re-pierced. After she’d put my jewelry in an envelope, she ordered me to strip and stayed there while I did. She put on gloves and started feeling me up under my armpits and in my mouth. Then she made me bend over while she looked down there—front and back. I’d never even had a gyno exam so this freaked me out beyond words and I started to cry. Helga didn’t even give me a tissue. She just kept on pawing around down there, looking for drugs I figured, even though that’s so not my scene. Pot makes me tired and alcohol makes me puke. No thanks.
Anyhow, by the time the shrink woman—Dr. Clayton—had started telling me about my disorder that morning, I was too out of it to point out that her ODD description summed up just about every teenager I knew. All I could say was, “I take it you heard all this from my Stepmonster,” at which she smiled and wrote more stuff down on her clipboard.
“Let me put it to you in terms you understand. Your grades at school have dropped. You are hardly present. You stay out all night. And when you do show your face, you’re as pleasant as a dark cloud.”
“I am not. And when I stay out late it’s because of shows. When you’re low on the totem pole, you get the two-A.M. slot. By the time we pack up our gear and get home it’s five A.M., but it’s not like I’m out partying all night.”
Dr. Clayton didn’t say anything, just shot me a Stepmonster-like disapproving look and wrote some more stuff down before continuing her list of my so-called offenses.
“You treat your body like a wall to graffiti on. You are rude to your stepmother, sullen to your teachers, unkind to your brother, and you seem to have some unresolved feelings about your mother.”
“Don’t you dare talk about my mother,” I said, surprised by how much like a growl my voice sounded. At the mere mention of Mom, I felt a chill grip me, and tears sprang to my eyes. I immediately blinked them back. “You don’t get to talk about her.”
“I see,” Dr. Clayton said, adding to her scribbles. “Well then, shall we go over the ground rules?” she asked, all sing-songy, like she was explaining a fun game. “We work on a rewards and levels system here. As a new student, you will start out in Level One. Level One is mostly an evaluatory stage, so the staff can get a sense of who you are and what your difficulties are. It’s also a chance for you to start proving yourself. There are very few privileges in Level One. You will remain indoors in an isolated room. You will do schoolwork in your room and have your meals there. You will leave only for individual therapy and to use the bathroom. To ensure you do no harm to yourself, you will be supervised at all times.
“You will graduate to Level Two when we have ascertained that you are not a runaway risk and that you are ready to start working on your issues. At Level Two, you will get your shoes back. You will leave your room for meals and for group therapy sessions. You may also receive mail from family at the staff’s discretion.
“Things improve once you arrive at Level Three. You will be moved into a shared room, allowed to attend school in a classroom, and permitted to send and receive mail, corresponding with family members only. You will also participate in many more activities. In Level Four you may wear makeup and receive phone calls from persons preapproved by our staff. When you reach Level Five you may have family visits and participate in organized town outings, like movie nights and bowling.
“Level Six is the highest level. Earning Level Six status would enable you to lead therapy groups, even supervise new students, and go off campus. Once you complete Level Six, you’ll return home, but that’s a long way off. It can take months to reach Level Six, or years. That part’s up to you. Any time you misbehave, break rules, or refuse to fully participate in your therapy, you will be demoted a level or two. If the situation warrants it, you could even get yourself demoted to Level One.”
She smiled when she said the last bit, and you could tell she got off on the thought of it.