Wayward Angels

Get that thing away from me! Rebecca jumped back and threw her hands into the air. Why is it looking at me? Get it away from me!

Nurse Knight’s shoulders shook from the force that contained her laughter.

Don’t just stand there, come get this thing! Rebecca stood in her bedroom doorway trembling with fear. A scruffy wire-haired mutt sat in the middle of the hallway staring at her, tilting its head from side to side with each high-pitched plea she made.

Rebecca clasped the doorframe with both hands and stood firm. She wasn’t afraid of anything, or at least she was never going to let anyone see her fear. She took a deep breath and glared at the little dog.

The dog’s ears perked up. Woof!

Rebecca flinched at the bark. I’m not kidding, Ms. Knight, get this mangy, ugly mutt, away from me!

Rebecca had forgotten it was Tuesday, dog therapy day at Tikkun. If she’d remembered, she would have stayed in her room with the door shut. Every Tuesday and Thursday that mangy mutt—Rebecca’s name for every dog—would run onto the unit and make a beeline right to her bedroom door. She just knew he messed with her on purpose. Out of all the twenty-eight kids in the facility, he chose her—the toughest girl there—to mess with. He enjoyed intimidating her. She just knew it.

Good grief, Rebecca, calm down. Nurse Knight stepped into the office for a second and then reappeared with a dog cookie in hand. Come here, Peanut, it’s okay…come on, boy. She held the dog treat in front of her while kneeling on one knee. Peanut turned away from Rebecca and trotted down the hallway to Nurse Knight and the cookie.

Rebecca squinted her green eyes. The staff called it the green-eyed-glare, a look Rebecca got when aggravated.

Why does that mutt have to come here anyway? He doesn’t even come to see a kid.

Nurse Knight rolled her eyes, picked up the little dog and covered his ears as if he could understand what Rebecca said about him. He’ll get matched with a kid as soon as he completes his training and gets certified.

Rebecca watched in disgust while the nurse rubbed her nose to the mutt’s nose, her voice changed to a cutesy-coo baby sound. Then you’ll be an official member of the Fur Angels, won’t you boo-boo.

Rebecca gagged.

Nurse Knight sat the dog on the floor inside the staff’s office. She crossed her arms and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, looking down the unit’s hallway at Rebecca. Give him a break, Rebecca.

Give him a break? You act like that thing is a person or something. It’s just an ugly dog. No kid is gonna want a little scrawny mutt like him.

Peanut stuck his head out from behind Nurse Knight's leg, watching Rebecca and the nurse talk back and forth.

Why does he have to be on my unit? complained Rebecca. G4 doesn’t have any dogs. Send him to G4.

Nurse Knight lowered her head and chuckled. You’re sent to G4 so many times for fighting, you’d be there with him too. Besides, the crisis unit is no place for a sweet little dog. It’s more comfortable here, in a homey atmosphere where he can cuddle with the girls and watch TV. All he wants is love. To love and be loved.

Peanut scooted on his butt in circles then he paused and vigorously scratched his ear.

Rebecca’s nose crinkled at the sight. Eww.

What do you have against dogs anyway? Nurse Knight stood with her hands on her hips. Her nurses smock covered with a collage of colorful cartoon dogs already made her look goofy and now she looked extra goofy with coffee stains spattered down the front of it. Why are you so afraid of them? she asked.

Afraid? Pfftt… Rebecca smirked. Please. It’s gonna take more than a stupid dog to scare me.

Okay, let’s drop it. It’s medication time. Go out to the nurse’s station for your meds.

Rebecca took a little blue pill every morning to help take the irritated edge off her attitude—is how the psychiatrist had explained it to her.

Treatment with medication was supposed to help her remain calm, but why did they care how she felt? Except for what was on paper, they really didn’t know her. She’d bet it was to save the closet doors in her room from looking like swiss cheese. But for the most part, the medication was helping. She hadn’t hit anyone or anything in more than three weeks. However, anger was still the only emotion she would let others see. Her natural beauty and angelic face, framed by her long flowing brunette curls were misleading. She never let anyone see her smile, laugh, or cry, but she did allow others to see her anger. The power of a punch was still satisfying, especially when she thought they deserved it. Fighting took the edge off her attitude—who needs a pill? People just need to learn when to shut up was her opinion.

Bedroom lights flipped on throughout the unit as Nurse Knight called out, Medication time girls, rise and shine.

Students came out of their rooms, some of them in bathrobes and slippers rubbing their sleepy eyes, while others were already dressed for the day. They filtered into the lobby to the nurse’s station for their morning meds and a Dixie cup of apple juice.

Hurry, Rebecca; the med nurse can’t wait all day for you.

Rebecca stood by her bedroom door looking at the nurse, then at Peanut. His big brown eyes peeked out at her from within the staff’s office.

Well? Are you gonna pick up the mutt so I can walk by?

Peanut looked up at Nurse Knight then back at Rebecca.

Nurse Knight picked him up without a word.

Rebecca locked eyes with the little dog as she walked past. She entered the lobby and noticed a group of her peers whispering. One of them looked up, made brief eye contact, and mouthed something to the group. Some of the girls looked at Rebecca while others shifted in their seats avoiding eye contact. One of them made a sharp shushing sound and the group obeyed with abrupt silence.

Rebecca looked straight ahead to the nurse’s station as she sauntered through the lobby. Passing the group of girls, she said, If you got something to say, say it to my face, then proceeded to the med room with a territorial arrogance.

Rebecca took a cup from the juice tray and opened her mouth in front of the med nurse. The nurse placed the pill on Rebecca’s tongue. She washed it down with a quick swig of the sugary juice, crumpled the cup with a tight squeeze of her hand, and tossed it at the trashcan like a basketball. It bounced off the rim and ricocheted into the adjoining chart room, landing underneath the medical records desk.

Although the med station and chart room shared the same space, the students were not allowed in the chart room portion. Bookshelves of over sized notebooks had each student’s name written down the spine in thick black permanent marker, along with a series of numbers—their patient ID number. The charts contained the confidential, troubling stories, of each kid’s past, present, and their future outlined in a treatment plan.

Their thickness was a good indication of the depth of family problems and how much trouble the youth had been.

Rebecca’s chart was thick.

She knelt to the floor. On her hands and knees, Rebecca looked under the desk for the crumpled cup. It rested on a single sheet of paper. She saw her name at the top. Her intake sheet—a summary of her life. She slid the paper out with the cup on top and nonchalantly stuck the paper under her shirt as she stood from the floor.

The med nurse watched her. What’s going on, Rebecca?

N-n-nothing, stammered Rebecca.

That was an easy shot, teased the nurse. Looks like you’re losing your touch.

Relieved that the med nurse hadn’t seen what she’d found, Rebecca rushed to the trashcan for a slam-dunk as she left the med room to walk back through the lobby.

She passed the group of gossipy girls, who were now sitting in a huddle like a powwow. She glared at them, silently daring any of them to say something to her, or about her. When it was clear that her challenge would not be met, Rebecca simply said, Didn’t think so.

Although the girls would never say it, Rebecca knew she didn’t have any friends on the unit. They only listened to her, did what she asked them to do, and agreed with her, not because they liked her, but because she intimidated them, and that was fine by her. She didn’t have a problem with peer interrelationships as her therapist phrased it. As far as she was concerned, it was their problem, not hers. Because whatever the case, she got respect from all the girls—except for one particular girl named Kim.

Kim, with her model-like appearance and too-good-for-anyone attitude, provoked Rebecca in every way possible. Kim was the all-talk-no-action type of girl. She talked behind everyone’s back, yet she was everyone’s best friend. She was a two-faced, fake, cosmetic beauty, and Rebecca saw right through her. She called Kim Maloney, phony Maloney full of baloney.

Kim responded to Rebecca’s passive threat, behind her back, after Rebecca had left the lobby. I’ll say whatever the duck I want to say, Kim said in a low-key attitudinal whisper.

Rebecca thought it was so stupid the way Kim used the word duck as a curse word. She thought it was even more stupid that Kim actually thought she was clever by using duck to avoid consequences of the no cursing rule. And she thought it was incredibly stupid that Kim’s little group of followers, the groupies, said it too. They all used the word duck.

Rebecca was three steps onto the unit when she heard Kim’s comment. Rebecca slid the paper from underneath her shirt, stuffed it into her front pant pocket, and turned around. With an eerie type of calm, she walked back into the lobby and stood in front of Kim and her cronies.

What did you say? Rebecca glared at the girls, pausing at each one until their eyes averted away from hers. She looked at Kim last. Were you talking to me?

The group of girls stood up and dispersed, all except Kim who stood up and stepped forward. It wasn’t the first time Kim had challenged Rebecca. She knew Kim only played big and tough to impress her groupies—even if it did mean a self-sacrifice.

Duck you, I'm not afraid….

Rebecca threw a left hook to the right side of Kim’s face. Contact lens flew through the air and the pop from the punch echoed through the lobby. The blow had thrust Kim backward into her seat. Rebecca lunged at her and unleashed her rage with rampant blows while hovering over the cowering girl. Kim’s sticky, hair-sprayed hair entangled Rebecca’s fingers like a spider web. Kim threw a desperate cat scratch strike before she curled into a ball while Rebecca pummeled her. With each punch, Rebecca felt a fraction of her anger lift away. Kim was the perfect annoying victim for the release of pinned-up anger, and it felt good.

Staff! Staff! yelled the panicking group of girls.

Staff members rushed into the lobby and peeled Rebecca off Kim. Rebecca went from a roaring rage to a passive surrender in seconds flat. She unclenched her fists and relaxed her arms, surrendering to the crises intervention.

Kim stood up gasping for air like a fish out of water. She smoothed out her skintight jeans, tugged at her silver-studded diva T-shirt, and flipped her hair out of her face. Her coarse blond highlights frizzed out like snagged wool and strands of pulled out hair lay strewn on the floor. Her hands shook, and she stuttered her words.

She-e-e hit me! Did you see that? She h-h-hit me!

The crisis staff, Mr. Kazz and Mr. Phillips, held Rebecca's wrists with a firm grip and asked her what happened.

I hit the bitch.

Rebecca had a knack for telling it like it was, regardless if it meant getting herself into trouble, hurting others’ feelings, or considered polite or rude. She was honest.

I’m ready. Let’s go to G4.

Chapter Two

G4

Mr. Phillips wrapped his arm around Rebecca’s left arm. Mr. Kazz mirrored the hold with Rebecca’s other arm and the three of them moved forward in unison. A third staffer followed behind. Rebecca had never seen her before—so much for first impressions.

Rebecca silently mouthed the rules as the new staff member rattled them off. Rebecca knew them so well she could recite them herself—they were repeated to her each time she was escorted down the long corridor to the crises unit.

Phone calls are supervised, no use of television, no personal items, and you’re required to write in a journal, said the staffer as if reading from a script.

Blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda, chanted Rebecca. I know my rights, expectations, and all the rules. You don’t have to tell me—save your breath.

The staffer ignored Rebecca’s comments and self-amusement of lip-synching and finished the list of routine expectations.

With the exception of not being able to watch TV and listen to the radio, Rebecca didn’t think the consequences were all that bad. She only used the phone periodically for a how-you-doing phone call to one of her sisters, which usually lasted only five minutes if that. As far as personal items, she hardly had any, what she did have fit into a shoebox. The only thing she was going to miss was her radio.

The stupid journal writing was always the same. She’d write, I’m sorry...I won’t do it again, and that would be that. Then there was the overall consequence of isolation. However, isolation was the thing Rebecca actually liked. She was used to being alone in a room. Rebecca was the only one on her regular unit without a roommate. Not because she couldn’t have one, but because the unit simply had one vacant bed which happened to be in her room. She knew the next admission would be the end of her single, double-room luxury she’d been accustomed to for the past five months.

The new staffer unlocked the doors to G4 with two keys. The metal on metal sound stirred up memories from Rebecca’s past of sporadic visits to see her father in the county jail. The smell of sterile rubbing alcohol escaped the heavy-metal doors as they opened inward, reminding her of a hospital, another series of familiar childhood memories.

Phillips and Kazz escorted Rebecca into an office and placed her in a chair directly in front of the office desk of Nurse Dane, Unit Coordinator of G4. The nurse let out a heavy sigh at the sight of Rebecca.

Rebecca rubbed her wrists, massaging them upon the release of the crisis staff’s firm grip.

What happened this time? asked Nurse Dane.

Rebecca knew the staff well in G4, and she knew exactly what she had to do in order to move on and get out. Her stays were usually short in G4 because she was cooperative, for the most part, and usually fessed-up, taking responsibility for her actions as she did so again, in three simple words. I hit her.

Nurse Dane shook her head, When will you learn, Rebecca?

She deserved it, Rebecca said nonchalantly. Just give me a journal and I’ll write my apology letter.

Nurse Dane shook her head again, this time with a sigh. I’ll have someone bring linens to your room. Do you think you can walk with Mr. Kazz on your own to one of the vacant rooms, or do you still need an escort?

Whatever, Ms. Dane. You know I’m okay. I can walk by myself. They don’t need to hold onto me, I ain’t going far.

Nurse Dane stood and walked around to the side of the desk. She moved a framed photograph to the corner, which now haphazardly faced Rebecca. The white shaggy dog with ginger brown ears wore a cherry red collar. The nurse sat on the edge of the desk. Rebecca looked from the photo to the nurse and back to the photo. The dog and the nurse had the same fluffy ginger color hair and the dog’s red collar matched the red key lanyard that Nurse Dane wore around her neck.

What was it with these people and dogs?

You’re a good kid, Rebecca, said Nurse Dane, placing her hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. If only you could get your anger under control—learn to do something else instead of lashing out. I don’t know why you allow others to provoke you. You’re like a time bomb waiting to explode.

Rebecca lowered her eyes to the floor. Nurse Dane was right, Kim had pushed her buttons and she had exploded. Maybe one day Kim will finally learn her lesson.

Mr. Kazz showed Rebecca to the vacant room where she would be spending the night until she served her consequences for fighting. Rebecca knew it would be a one-night reservation because she had already accepted responsibility for her actions; now all she would need to do was serve her three-hour room restriction and write her apology to phony Maloney. Piece of cake.

Rebecca entered the room and flipped on the light. She hated the color of the walls. Sky blue was supposed to be soothing and calm—a happy color—but it made her feel depressed and trapped