Miss Lydia Fairbanks and the Losers Club

by Duane L. Ostler

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Miss Fairbanks was once more denied entrance at the youth detention center when she went to see Brent Llewelyn later than evening. "Look dearie, like I told you yesterday, that kid ain't seeing anyone! Come back next month."

  "No!" said Miss Fairbanks firmly, who had finally composed herself after her meltdown in class that afternoon. "He's my friend, and I insist on seeing him TODAY. I want to speak to your supervisor."

  "Doctor Tinface?" said the receptionist in surprise. "He ain't here. He left me in charge."

  "I doubt that very much," said Miss Fairbanks. "Please go in and tell whoever is in charge that I want to see Brent Llewelyn NOW. After all, I was in the room when he was apprehended, and--"

  "Oh, well if that's the case, there's no way you're getting in, dearie!" said the receptionist triumphantly. "The sight of a victim can trigger a relapse in one of these looneys."

  "I was not a victim!" yelled Miss Fairbanks. "He was alone in the room with his gun when I ran in to see if he was all right."

  "You ran into the room?" said the receptionist incredulously. "And he didn't shoot you?" She looked at Miss Fairbanks shrewdly. "Is there something wrong with your head? Or do you just drink all the time? What sane person would run into a room where some loony is holding a gun threatening to shoot people?"

  "I do not drink!" cried Miss Fairbanks in a shrill voice. "And will you PLEASE stop calling him a loony?" she added in exasperation. "Brent is my friend. I knew he was just hurt and frightened, and he would never shoot me. I simply went to see if I could help him."

  The receptionist looked at her for another minute as if she thought Miss Fairbanks should be looked up in a place such as this as well. Then she got up heavily and tromped into the back shaking her head.

  Miss Fairbanks looked around at the dingy reception area. It looked almost as bleak and dead as Inner City Junior High School. A set of straggly yellow drapes hung limply over the window, only half covering it. The reception chairs were lumpy and full of rips, and the carpet was threadbare. There were spiders happily nesting in the corners, and they always had plenty to eat since there were scads of flies buzzing around. The place reeked of despair, which had obviously rubbed off on some of the staff, and particularly the receptionist.

  The door suddenly opened and the receptionist entered, followed by a thin, balding man. The receptionist looked distinctly annoyed, which Miss Fairbanks happily realized meant she would be allowed to see Brent.

  "Miss Fairbanks?" asked the balding man. "Will you come with me please?"

  "Certainly!" said Miss Fairbanks, giving the receptionist a triumphant look as she walked by. The other lady simply avoided eye contact.

  "I'm glad you came," said the man as they walked down an empty hall with more of the threadbare carpet stretched miserably from wall to wall. "Brent hasn't had any visitors since he arrived here, and we always find that when people come to see the boys--"

  "No visitors!" cried Miss Fairbanks. "He's been here since Friday! Didn't his mother or step-father come to see him?"

  The man shook his head. "I'm afraid not. You are the first. And as I was saying, it can do a tremendous amount of good if someone comes and lets the boys know they are not forgotten, and that someone on the outside cares."

  Miss Fairbanks did not reply, but continued down the hall shaking her head. She'd known his description of his parents was bad, but she was astounded that his own mother hadn't come to see him.

  "Here we are," said the man, stopping outside a door. "I'll be back very shortly, since we try to keep initial visits brief." He opened the door for her, and Miss Fairbanks saw Brent slouched in a chair against a far wall. There was almost nothing else in the room.

  Brent's face lit up the instant he saw her. "Miss Fairbanks!" he called happily, coming quickly across the room. The door closed behind her with a distinct 'click,' which meant of course that they were locked in. Miss Fairbanks had no doubt the doctor was watching carefully through the one-way observation window in the door, just in case Brent tried to choke her to death.

  "You came!" said Brent happily, standing in front of her and not knowing what to do with himself. Finally he flopped back down in his chair.

  "Of course I came!" replied Miss Fairbanks. She gave him another one of her needless gestures, throwing her arms wide. "They couldn't keep me away. Although that bossy receptionist out there tried. I couldn't get past her yesterday."

  "You came yesterday too?" said Brent in amazement, clearly appalled that anyone would make two trips to visit him.

  "I tried to," said Miss Fairbanks. "Now that I've finally made it in, they'll have no choice but to allow me in every time I come, no matter how much they grumble about it."

  Brent was looking at her in wonder. "Every time?" he repeated. "But why would you come more than once?"

  Miss Fairbanks scowled at him. "To see you of course!" she said firmly as she took a seat on the floor. "How've they been treating you?"

  "Fine," said Brent simply, while still looking at her curiously. He was obviously still trying to make sense of her saying she would be back.

  "So, do they say mean things to you?" asked Miss Fairbanks. "The other kids here, I mean. Are they unkind?"

  "Not too bad," said Brent with a shrug. "Some of the other guys are a bit like that, but the workers here make them stop. It's actually a lot better here than Inner City Junior High. They don't let the bullies here get away with stuff like they do there."

  "Well, that's good to hear," said Miss Fairbanks. "And how's the food?"

  "Better than the lunch room at school," replied Brent. "I haven't got sick after lunch once! And the mashed potatoes they serve here aren't purple!"

  Miss Fairbanks eyed him curiously. "Are you saying you like it here?"

  "Absolutely!" said Brent. "If I'd known it was this good, I've have brought a gun to school a long time ago!"

  "Brent!" cried Miss Fairbanks in shock. "You shouldn't say such things."

  "But it's true!" cried Brent. "And the best part is, my step-dad Burt isn't beating me up all the time! Or my mom either! It's great!"

  Miss Fairbanks was shaking her head sadly. "That man out there told me your parents haven't even come to see you."

  "I'm glad," said Brent. "Especially about Burt not coming. After all, he's the one that killed Isabel." He scowled and looked at the floor.

  "Well, I don't suppose they allow pets here," observed Miss Fairbanks rather nonsensically, since it was a youth prison.

  "No," said Brent. "But I'll never get another cat. There's no cat that can ever take Isabel's place."

  There was an awkward silence. "So, what's been going on in class?" asked Brent. "That's the only thing I've missed, really."

  "Oh, not much," said Miss Fairbanks. "Yesterday all of my classes came up with the words for comic strips, and today they wrote about the mysterious contents of a black box that makes people laugh nonstop."

  "Really?" said Brent in surprise. "Gee, I wish I'd been there for that. Sounds like fun."

  "Don't they have classes here?" she asked.

  "Yeah, a few," said Brent. "But there's no teachers as good as you." Miss Fairbanks ears started to turn pink. "Thank you, Brent," she said. "That's nice of you to say. I miss having you in class, and in our little gatherings after school. Some new kids have started coming."

  "Really?" asked Brent. "Did you finally decorate that ugly classroom?"

  "Jerry put up a picture of Scooby Doo today!" said Miss Fairbanks with a smile. "And Ella put up a picture of Garfield, and another one of Snoopy."

  "Ella?" asked Brent curiously.

  "A new girl," said Miss Fairbanks. "She likes to doodle. And she's very good at it too. I wish you'd make a picture for me. I'd love to have one of yours up in my room."

  "Aw, I'm not very good at art," said Brent with a shrug. "Everything I draw looks like a dead bug."

  "I'm sure that's not true," said Miss Fairbanks. "I'd sure like it if you made me one. I'd like one f
rom everyone who comes after school. Perhaps I'll even write and ask for one from scar face."

  "Scar face!" said Brent in amazement. "Did he come after school too?"

  "Yes, he did, earlier today," said Miss Fairbanks with a sad smile.

  "Did he pound people like normal?"

  "No," she answered in a small voice. "His mother died. Now he's gone to live in New Jersey."

  "Oh," said Brent quietly.

  The door suddenly opened, and the same bald doctor looked in at her. "Time to go," he said simply. "Sorry for such a short visit, but we try to stick to strict routines here."

  Miss Fairbanks stood, reaching out to shake Brent's hand. "Please draw me a picture," she said pleadingly. "For my collection. Any comic character you want."

  "Sure," shrugged Brent. "But when will I get it to you?"

  "Tomorrow, naturally," she answered. Both Brent and the bald man raised their eyebrows in surprise. "What are you looking at me like that for?" asked Miss Fairbanks, gazing from one to the other. "I intend to visit every day!"

  "Are you quite all right, madam?" asked the balding man, unable to believe his ears. Miss Fairbanks scowled, but chose to ignore him.

  "Won't that take you away from your family?" asked Brent.

  Miss Fairbanks just gazed at him blankly. "You are my family," she said simply.