The Assessment

Andy's gentle words convinced Sierra to take the assessment.  The assessment was done right there in the administrator's office.  It consisted of a brain scan underneath a scanner, while Dr. Bill analyzed a litany of brain waves. 

He took copious notes during the assessment.

"Just me and you, Sierra.  I've sent your parents away, I've sent the dean away.  Just me and you.  I've heard from your mother, I've heard from your father, I've done the brain scan, your sister sent me a 6-page letter saying she's desperate for me to help you before she buries you.  Now, I want to hear from Sierra.  What makes Sierra tick?  Tell me all about Sierra.  Who is she?  What does Sierra want out of life?"

"What was it like growing up for you, Sierra?" he began, attempting to make conversation. 

I wasn't far away, in fact, I was in the next room, hearing every word he said. 

"As I understand it, you were a middle child, with two older adopted siblings, and two older biological siblings, plus two younger siblings.  You feel like you got the short end of the stick, don't you?"

Sierra still didn't say anything.

My Watcher!  I thought at first. I can't believe she feels that way.   

But on further reflection, I did begin to realize why she probably feels this way.  Having all the kids, with their demands on my time, and all the other events happening at the time she was born (we were just getting ready to move to Hidden Springs after AJ and Imsety had been sentenced to Fort Starch), well, it could have seemed to her like I was just dragging her along.

I failed her.  I failed my little girl.  I failed her just like I failed her brother.

Sierra's silence spoke volumes. 

"You know, Sierra, of all the people I've spoken to, all the statements I've read, your sister seems to have the best grasp of how serious this situation really and truly is.  She's the one that found you wrapped in that sleeping bag in front of the movie theater, while it's freezing cold outside.  She told me the whole story.  She's afraid for your life.   But you know, this is not a Sierra problem.  This is a family problem.  The whole family dynamic is sick and it's diseased.
"I notice you didn't say anything when I mentioned your sister.  She's 6 simdays older than you, with the same blond hair and blue eyes.  You resent her, don't you?"

Again Sierra didn't say a word.

"Your parents thought she was so perfect, such a princess.  Made straight A's in school, won writing and art competitions, rode horses.  You, on the other hand, you developed a prickly skin.  You made a concerted effort to differentiate yourself from her.  You cut your hair short, started wearing your brother's clothes, then you start dying your hair a whole bunch of different colors, as if to say, 'Look at me.  I'm here. Notice me.'

"You're not saying anything because you know I'm correct.  You know I'm right.  "  

A few minutes later Dr. Bill called just me back into the room.  "Lady, I've got so much to say to you, I don't even know where to begin."
I swallowed my spit and let out a gulp.
"Do you realize this girl didn't say a gosh darn thing to me during the entire assessment?  She didn't utter one syllable.  She remained silent the entire time.  I don't ask myself why Sierra is this way, I ask myself why not?  Especially with the family dynamic as sick and diseased as it is.  Look at you, you spent all your time working, and you've as much as admitted to me when you had children, that you weren't ready to be a parent.
"That's correct, I wasn't ready to be a parent."
"And your kids suffered for it.  Your children suffered, lady, because you weren't ready to be a parent!  Your husband in there, he tried to pick up the slack, even gave up his own promising athletic career, but he alone couldn't make up for your deficiencies.  And as I understand it, you came from a dysfunctional home yourself.   No, I don't fault you for not being ready to be a parent.  How could you be?  You weren't ready because you didn't have the best examples.  And, also, as I understand it, you were a rebellious teen yourself."
"Yes, I was.  I'd be the first one to admit it."
"And, also, as I understand it, you and your mother fought constantly."
I nodded again.

"In fact...this curse of rebellion goes all the way back to your father, doesn't it?"
I took a deep breath.  "My father and grandmother had a strained relationship.  My grandfather passed away right before my father became a teenager, and my father's been affected by that pretty much ever since.  My father quit school, and my grandmother was not very happy about that."
"Your father quit school to become a musician."
"That's right."
"And so we come to you.  When you become a teenager, you become out of control."
"Absolutely.  I was sleeping in cemeteries, exploring catacombs, skipping school, staying out all night --"
"Your nephew, he becomes a teenager, he's out of control.  In fact, he comes to stay with you and your father."
"Yes."
"Your oldest son, when he becomes a teenager, he falls off the rails and he's out of control."
"Yes."
"In fact, he's so bad off, him and his older adopted brother, that he's sent away to Fort Starch.  Sierra, the young girl in question, was a toddler at the time."
"Yes.  She was still in diapers."

"Do you see the pattern here, Mrs. Cheesman?"
 I nodded my head affirmatively. 
 "I've done a complete examination on your daughter.  She is an angry, hurt, confused, lost, and most of all deeply disturbed young girl.  But I'm an incurable optimist and I believe she's fixable."
I nodded my head.  I could feel a few hot tears streaming down my face.
"She's got so much inside of her, she's like a volcano, struggling to get it all out.  You will not believe what will happen when that volcano erupts.  This has been a common thread in your entire family.  Your daughter Sierra, by her school record and from every account, she has pretty much no social skills whatsoever; she spends most of her time alone and only has one friend; doesn't even like socializing much; completely lacks empathy; has a hair-trigger temper capable of snapping at anyone at any moment; is chronologically seventeen but emotionally about seven; has a genius IQ but failed in school; and is fascinated with supernatural creatures (especially aliens) and sports.

"I'm going to have my female counselor, Ms. Simpson, meet with her here tomorrow morning in the administrative office.  I get the feeling that a woman would be better able to relate to this young girl than a crusty old man like me.  
"We can fix this girl, Mrs. Cheesman.  She's got several things going for her that a lot of my clients don't.  For starters, it's clear to me from hearing her story and from reading through the records that she's extremely intelligent, and her intellectual curiosity is off the chart.  That she sought the assistance of a psychic medium at twelve years old, that tells me a lot.  It's telling me that even at that young age she was searching for guidance and direction.  The other thing she has going for her is she has the love and support of both of her parents.  Usually I get the mother, sometimes the father, but rarely both, and I have to admit it's great to see.

"My recommendation, Mrs. Cheesman, is for her to be placed in an intensive psychiatric treatment facility.   Don't know how long it would take.   But she needs the treatment.  While she's gone, all of you need to do some serious soul-searching and work so that when she returns, it won't be to the same environment she left.
"This appears to be a family curse, each generation worse than the one before it.  This chain needs to be broken, before this girl ends up in prison, for real, and for life.  This chain must be broken, right here and right now, with this girl. "