Between the Lines (24 page)

She
unlocks the door and steps inside.

“It’s
kind of messy.”

She’s a
teenager, and to be expected, though I did assume I’d find neat barracks type
of rooms, with cots and sheets tucked with military corners.  That’s not the
case. Under the window is a desk with papers and books strewn across it. Beside
it is a single bed, unmade, but a pastel quilt is tossed across it and the
sheets are a pale green. Beside the door is a closet, though half of her
clothes are on the floor, but some made it into a hamper. There’s a dresser
along the wall opposite the bed and most of the drawers are open. This is most
definitely a teenager’s room. But it isn’t as tiny as I imagined. Sure, there
isn’t a lot of room, but enough for one person to sleep, walk around and work.
So not the prison cell that girl described.

“Somebody
needs to do their laundry,” Mag says, shaking her head.

“This
weekend, I promise.”

We leave
the building and walk back out into the bright sunshine. I turn and take in the
campus again. Seeing it in different eyes.

“That
girl, she basically just didn’t want to get help, or help herself, did she?”

Instead
of answering me, Mag turns to Tamara. “Go join the others. Miss West and I need
to have a discussion.

She waits
until Tamara is far enough away not to hear us before answering my question. “I
cannot speak to this girl because I don’t know who she is.”

“Tamara
isn’t the only one who needs help and treatment, is she?”

“I cannot
answer that question.”

I’m
frustrated, but I also get why Mag is so insistent on protecting these kids.
And, she’s not going to tell me a damn thing unless I share a few things in
return.

“Do you
know why I write the posts I do?”

“You want
to right the wrongs in the world and bring people to justice.”

“Yeah,
but there’s a reason.”

“Okay.”
She’s studying me. 

“I’m
going to trust you with something very private, the way Tamara trusted me.
Then, I think you’ll understand.”

“Does it
have anything to do with why you changed your name?”

“It has
everything to do with that.”

The bell
rings and the students who had been sitting with Gabe get up and gather their
stuff as other kids start coming out of the buildings where classes are held. I
can’t talk out here, where anyone can hear us. “Let’s go somewhere, to talk in
private.”

Gabe
meets us halfway across the campus. He’s watching both of us and he’s probably
wondering what I’ve learned or what I’ve said.

“Miss
West and I are going to have a discussion,” she tells Gabe. “Why don’t you work
in your classroom or wait for us?” At least she’s protecting my privacy for a
moment.

“That’s
okay. Gabe already knows what I’m going to tell you.”

Her
eyebrows raise in surprise, but Mag says nothing else and leads us to a side
gate. After pressing in a security code, she opens it and we step through. A
calm, clear lake is not far away and a picnic area is arranged. I had no idea
this was here. From the picnic area the grass slopes down a hill to a long
sandy beach. Across the lake are large homes. This is close enough to town that
people probably live there year round, but someone of them may simply be
vacation homes.  Each has a dock, but nobody has put their boat in the water
yet. It’s a little too early in the year for that but I suspect that during the
summer, the lake gets a lot of traffic.

I follow
as we walk to a sitting area and stop. “So, what do you want to tell me?”

I take a
seat and so does Mag. Gabe stands behind me and rests a hand on my shoulder. I
don’t know if it’s to give me comfort, keep me grounded or just to let me know
he’s here. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll go into another panic attack. I doesn’t
matter. I’m just happy to have his presence and his touch. I’m taking a huge
risk, but if I want to learn anything, I’ve got to give too.

She says
absolutely nothing but listens intently as I tell her everything that has
happened to me from the moment I opened up my father’s computer to yesterday
and my panic attack.

“You are
the friend Mateo wanted to stay with.”

“I
assumed he called in, but he never told me why.”

She
smiles and nods. “It’s okay. You needed him.”

“So, you
see why I needed to investigate Baxter after I overheard that girl in the ER.”

Mag is
nodding. “Yes, I do. And, I think it’s admirable what you are doing, but you
have nothing to be concerned with about Baxter.”

“I get
that now. I also think I figured out the school.”

“Oh?”

“Tamara
isn’t the only student who is talented and in need of a therapist, or on track
following a mental health issue.”

“I can’t
answer that question.”

“You
don’t need to,” I assure her.

“I
suspect all of your students came here by way of one therapist, counselor or
from some form of the system. They are talented and you are giving them a
chance.”

“I can’t
answer that either.”

“I know,”
I say. “If I’m correct, this is a really good place and the kids are lucky to
have it.”

Mag
simple gives a quick nod of her head. “So, are you still going to write the
post?”

“I don’t
get why they even allowed me here in the first place.” If anyone should keep
their secrets, well secret, it’s Baxter.

“Many of
our students do go off to college, but most people haven’t heard of us. The
school’s only been in existence for ten years. They thought some good publicity
would help.” She smiles. “I don’t think they were counting on you being the
kind of reporter you are.”

“They
were hoping for a fluff piece.” I laugh.

“That’s what
I assume.” Mag sobers. “So, are you?”

I can
tell she’s worried. “I’ll write a post, but I promise it will be the article
they are hoping for, not what you are afraid of.”

Gabe – 36

“We’re
more than a school. We’re family.”

I turn
and find Louie standing just inside the gate with a bunch of my students.

“You know
you aren’t supposed to be on this side of the wall,” Mag chastises.

Louie
grins and shrugs. “You left they gate open. We’re just kids.”

She
shakes her head. “Go back.”

“Not
yet,” Marissa says. She looks at Miss West. “We heard what you said.”

Her face
goes pale. I know Ellen is scared to death about telling anyone anything and
took a great risk in telling Mag. Now all of these kids know.

“Your
secret is safe with us.”

The Babin
twins are nodding their head vigorously.

“How do I
know?”

“Who we
gonna tell?” Louie laughs.

“Going to
tell,” Marissa corrects.

“We’ll
tell you ours and then if you talk, we will,” Eric says.

“No!” Mag
orders.

“It’s
cool, Miss Mag,” Louie says and saunters forward. “Gang member, not by choice
but survival. They got me out of juvie.” He grins. “And, I’m going to be an
epic street artist someday so you probably should remember my name.”

“Oh, I
will,” Ellen humors him.

“Abused
kid, and gay,” says Mick.

“None of
you should be telling Miss West anything,” Mag warns.

“We read
her blog. We aren’t afraid of her telling the world,” Marissa says.

“Cutter,”
Carlie says. “But I’m not saying any more.”

“You don’t
need to,” Ellen says gently, meeting the girl’s eyes.

“Asperger’s!”
Marissa announces. “My parents wanted to pretend I was normal. They made me
worse.”

“Foster
care after my father was wrongfully imprisoned,” says Tyler Beach. “I like your
blog, Miss West. You’re doing good things.”

“Foster
care, then group home, then juvie.” Jada Daniels shrugs, as if it’s no big
deal.

Ellen
slowly sits as if she is trying to take all of this in.

Maria
Vasquez steps forward. “My mom’s boyfriend did things with me he shouldn’t.”

Ethan
Cook is looking around and finally steps out. “I was bullied and tried to kill
myself.”

Ellen’s
hand goes to her chest.

“Eating
disorder and I can’t wait to start the culinary arts classes,” says McKenzie
Dolson.

“Mr. Gabe
saved my life,” Isaac says.

There’s
dead silence after that and the students look between me and him.

“That’s a
little dramatic, don’t you think,” Louie says.

“No. My
heart stopped, he gave me CPR.”

“Whoa.
Way to go Mr. Gabe,” Mick says.

 “Maybe
I’ll tell you guys the rest of it someday.” He quirks a smile. “When I know you
a little better.”

“These
are my people,” Louie announces. “Mick is my best friend. I got his back and
he’s got mine.”

“I have
his back,” Marissa corrects.

Louie
rolls his eyes. “And Marissa, she can be a pain with the way she’s always
correcting me and shi…things like that. But, that’s what a sister would do.”

“We may
be broken, Miss West, but we are family,” Tamara says from the back of the
group. “Even after I leave here, I’ll still consider these guys my brothers and
sisters. They accepted me when my own flesh and blood didn’t.”

My heart
swells with pride for these kids. Even I didn’t know some of the things they
told Ellen, and it couldn’t have been easy. They are far braver than I ever
was.

“No, you
are wrong.” Ellen comes to her feet. “You’re not broken or you wouldn’t be
here. You would have given up. Maybe your spirit is battered, bruised and
shaken from what you experience, but you guys are far from broken.” She’s
smiling looking over the group. “And, you’re right. Blood isn’t what makes a
family. Love is.”

I need to
turn away. I’m choked up and I never get choked up, but I’ve just witnessed a
strength and understanding in Ellen. And these kids, they are so much more than
I ever gave them credit for.

Ellen

I know
what I’m going to write and it’s also time for change. I’ve spent the last few
years looking for bad guys, seeking them out. I hadn’t realized it but it’s
done something to me. I stopped trusting. Sure, my father’s illegal activities
and realizing my
uncle
wasn’t who I though he was, had something to do
with that. But, isn’t it time to find the good in the world? Like Baxter. To
seek out hope and love? The news is already filled with the worst of the worst
and I don’t want to do that anymore.

Baxter’s
amazing. The staff is amazing. And even more, the kids are amazing. They are
the ones that need a story. They are what people should read about and not the
criminals or the corrupt.

“What are
you working on?” Gabe asks as he takes a seat next to me on the couch.  After
meeting the kids today, I found the courage to return to my own apartment. They
each gave me a one-liner of why they are at Baxter, but I know the stories are
far more involved and if these kids can get it together, or at least make the
progress they have, I can sleep in my own apartment.

I close
the lid on my laptop.”

“More
secrets?” Gabe asks.

“Just my
post on Baxter.”

He
stiffens.

Really?
“Do you think I spill their secrets after today?”

He
relaxes. “I’m just so used to using every precaution where the school is
concerned.”

I lean
over and kiss his cheek. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“So, what
are you writing?” He tries to lift the lid and I slap his fingers away.

“You can
read it with the rest of the world tomorrow morning.”

“Fine,”
he says getting up off the couch and heading back to the bedroom. I may have
come back to my apartment but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to stay alone in it
and asked Gabe to spend the night. He pauses at the door. “Coming to bed?”

“Soon,” I
answer.

His eyes
darken as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. “Don’t be long. I have a few plans
for you.”

Heat
rushes through me, but I don’t follow. This post is too important.

Looking
West?

When I
started out to write an article on Baxter Academy of Arts, I was expecting to
step into a world of privileged, intelligent kids being groomed for admission
to Yale, Harvard and the like. If you have lived in the area long, you know
that Baxter Academy is a high school, protected by the walls surrounding what once
was the Baxter Plantation, built back in 1810. Since the school was established
ten years ago, Baxter has been a mystery with very little information being
released. We know about the fundraisers for the schools, but that isn’t any
different than any school around here. Except, where one high school is selling
candy bars or holding car washes, Baxter holds auctions and sells exclusive
art. Maybe this is one of the reasons we, who do not know better, see Baxter as
a school only those of wealth and brains can attend.

I was
prepared to encounter the preppy, uniformed students as soon as I stepped
through the gates, and frankly, expected to encounter snobbery almost
immediately. Such was not the case.

The
students are an eclectic group of individuals. Deep, thoughtful, caring, each
dressing in a style that suits them best, from raggedy jeans to feminine
dresses. They are free thinkers and dreamers. They are artists.

Some
of the most talented kids from the State of New York attend this private
boarding school. They come from all walks of life, are rich, poor or middle
class and about every ethnicity there is.

My
life was changed, for the better, having experienced Baxter. Not only do their
academics rival any school, but I dare anyone not to be moved by the art. They
are actors, writers, poets, painters, sculptors, musicians, dancers and
vocalists. I read an expose’ that brought tears to my eyes. I listened to a
choir that sent chills down my spine, and so much more.

Visit
their gallery and you will see what I mean. It’s open on the weekends and like
many of you, until I visited, I didn’t even know it was there. Watch for
listings, which I will keep updated on this site, for their plays, musicals,
ballets and concerts. You won’t be sorry and be a better person for it.

Other
schools can groom the politicians, lawyers, doctors and scientists for the
future. Baxter is grooming the artists, the people who bring color and emotion
to our too often grey and stressful world.