When Skye continued to stare at him, Alvin mumbled, “Hello, Mrs. Boyd.”
“Hello, Alvin.” Skye reached into her pocket and gave him a sticker for his behavior chart. When he filled all the squares, he would earn playtime with the PE teacher. Skye frowned. She needed to check to make sure Mrs. Lake wasn’t going to allow Alvin to turn their activity into a game of fetch or retrieving Frisbees with his mouth.
The third boy with an IEP in place was Duncan Canetti—or, as the kids called him, Mr. Clean. Duncan liked everything to be perfectly orderly and hygienic. When Skye had first met him his head had been shaved. His mother had explained it was because her son couldn’t stand to have even a hair out of place. He’d also insisted on wearing disposable gloves to school. Skye still couldn’t believe Mrs. Canetti had gone along with either of those notions.
After some intense negotiation, Skye had convinced Duncan to forgo his bald-headed look for an extremely short buzz cut. She had also asked the teachers and other staff to intervene if they heard any of the children using his nickname. She was pleased with Duncan’s progress. He no longer sprayed a can of Lysol in front of himself as he walked into a room, and he had stopped wearing plastic gloves out on the playground. Now she had to work on getting the hand sanitizer away from him.
During the first year of counseling, Clifford, Alvin, and Duncan hadn’t been able to make any friends outside of the group. This had concerned their parents, as well as the school personnel. And while each had made some headway on their more unusual issues, they still had difficulty joining the rest of the children’s play during recess.
Last spring, at their IEP conferences, after much discussion about the boys’ lack of social skills, Skye had suggested including a few regular-education students in their group. Which was how Gavin Girot and Christopher Hardy had become members. Both of the boys’ parents had signed permission, with the understanding that Skye would concentrate on improving Gavin’s and Christopher’s attention spans and on-task behavior.
Skye looked over the assemblage and said, “Okay, boys. Everyone take a seat so we can get started. I have a surprise for you.”
Gavin immediately obeyed and Skye gave him a coupon for five extra minutes of art time, but Christopher seemed mesmerized by the black cord hanging from the projector screen. He flicked it, watching it swing back and forth. Duncan stood frozen by a shelf, staring at a dust bunny the size of a Chihuahua. He whimpered and reached into his pocket for his Purell.
Skye exhaled noisily. Obviously, she still had her work cut out for her.
Walking over to Duncan, she closed the lid on the sanitizer bottle and pointed to an empty chair. Then in a mild tone, she said to Christopher, “Please take your seat so we can be ready for our surprise.”
Once the boys were all sitting, Skye joined them and said, “Today we’re going to have a visitor. His name is Dr. Quillen and he’s—”
“No doctors!” Duncan screamed, jumping to his feet and backing against a wall. “They touch you and poke you with dirty needles.”
“Please return to your seat, Duncan,” Skye said. “Dr. Quillen isn’t a people doctor. He’s a veterinarian. He’s going to help us—”
“No!” Alvin dropped to his knees, then tilted his head toward the ceiling and howled.
“Alvin, use your words.” Skye checked her watch. The vet would be here any second. She had to get control of the session. With one boy cowering in a corner and another baying at the moon, she wasn’t sure which behavior to address first.
As she considered her options, the door swung open and Dr. Linc Quillen strode inside. He had a beautiful Maine Coon cat in a Pet Taxi and a Siberian Husky on a leash.
“Wolf! It’s a wolf!” Clifford screamed. “He’s going to eat us.”
“It’s only a dog.” Skye jumped to her feet, trying to calm the boys and herd them back into their chairs. “He’s a nice doggy. Really.”
But it was too late for reassurances. Group hysteria took over, and the boys scattered. Alvin, Duncan, Gavin, and Christopher huddled against the far wall, but Clifford skirted around Dr. Quillen and the animals and ran out the door.
“Sorry!” Skye yelled, dashing after the escapee, adding, “Keep an eye on the boys. I’ll be right back.”
Skye sprinted down the hallway, then realized the others might try to follow her. Just as she twisted her neck to look, she heard footsteps in front of her. Before she could swing her head toward the sound, she slammed into what felt like a brick wall. Flailing her arms for balance, she lost her footing. But before she could fall, hands gripped her arms and steadied her.
Skye’s gaze shot to her rescuer’s face. Shit! The man holding her upright was Palmer Lynch, the school board member who was running against her godfather, Charlie Patukas, for the presidency. She was so screwed.
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