There was a weighted pause after the door to the Dean's office closed. Seconds passed in tensed silence as the adults present in the room waited for an acknowledgement from Ana-James that she would never give them.
It was an old, tired tactic. One that more than likely worked wonders for most other students sent to the dean's office. It had never worked on Ana. Back in August the pair lasted almost five minutes before becoming frustrated and addressing her. Now, in November they didn't even reach of a minute.
"Miss. Edwards," the Dean said with a sigh, she shifted her gaze from the window to the framed degree to the left to the dean's head. "Please," he said with a fake smile and a chopped tone, "won't you join us." He said motioning to the now vacated leather seat.
Demand her brain supplied as she slowly uncurled from the window sill. Not a request. The difference was a newer minefield she had to navigate. Knowing what she had the power to say no to.
Her father rarely, if ever used, demands o the trivialities that most other adults did. And he always called out other adults who did.
So she nodded and did just that, making a wide path around where Dr. Wallace sat and slipped into the chair Lithgow vacated with practiced ease. The leather was warm and held the strong scent of axe body spray. She wrinkled and rubbed her nose to fight off a reactionary sneeze.
Once she settled, Dean O'Keefe stood and rang his hands together. Looking a bit like a television dramatization of a nervous lawyer. A sight that was not helped when he opened his desk drawer and procured a manila folder with her name printed on a small red label on the tab.
He tapped the thick folder twice against his hand before sitting back down and pushing it to the front of his desk. Once it was there he fiddled with his desk phone to call Ana's aunt and uncle.
Her aunt was a busy woman who was generally unable to attend disciplinary meetings in person, prioritizing more important meetings for the company she hadn't cared about seven months ago. Her uncle is an air force official who was currently stationed out of the country.
Her other uncle probably did not know about this hearing. He was always a bit more of a worry wart and though generally silent and stoic had been uncharacteristically animated and opinionated when it came to Ana over the past six months. Ana knew had he known about the disciplinary hearing he would have been there.
What Ana didn't know is if she wanted him there.
Sure she took some small level of comfort from his presence, he was one of the only constants that followed her from before. Yet she knew that had he attended his behavior would have either met or surpassed that of Lithgow Senior. Probably escalating the meeting into a confrontation.
Their digital presence here was not surprising because it had been threatened two weeks ago at the last meeting as the next step. But the lack of their physical presence did sting ever so slightly.
The fact her other uncle was not there meant he had could not known. The fact he wasn't on the call probably meant he was spreading down back roads to reach the school before sundown. Ignoring the statistics around the dangers of recklessly driving in storms.
As she mused, the meeting had begun. The Dean started by outlying the behaviors of concern for her guardians and discussing the disciplinary actions that had been taken up to this point. Her aunt and uncle listened with rapt attention as if this was not information they had heard a hundred times over. A skill that Ana sorely lacked.
"Miss. Edwards," the Dean continued as he circled the far side of his desk unbuttoning and rolling up his left sleeve with crisp practiced movements. "Please pay attention."
"As you know we here at The Harmon School strive for excellence in all things." He said as if this was somehow specific to the Harmon School, and not the general consensus of all education. Especially that which was privatized in big new England boarding schools.
"We here pride ourselves in educating the next generation of world leaders, humanitarians, doctors, lawyers, and scientists. Here you have all the skills you need to achieve greatness." The pitch was practiced, each syllable well crafted. Each syllable makes Ana feel bile rise in her throat.
"In the spring you were on track to do amazing things. It is why we agreed to allow you to take on harder course work." He continued with a sad tone. As if the fact she once had "potential" was a direct insult to him.
"Yet throughout this semester you have squandered each and every opportunity presented to you." As he spoke he rolled up his right sleeve with slightly less dexterity and ease in the carefully coiled rolls.
"I understand that last May you and your Father were present for the incident in New York." He said and Ana could not hide her flinch as she took her eyes away from the man in front of her and pushed them into her lap. Folding her hands together and taking a few measured breaths.
In… two… three… four.
Help,
Someone,
Mom,
Please,
NO!
What the,
My god,
Run…
Hold… two… three… four.
Good god,
What the,
Holy shit,
F*ck me,
Someone help us,
NO!,
Help,
Please
Out… two… three… four.
She felt the grief well in her chest, sitting atop her breast bone heavily as if to crush her under its weight. The breath pressed against bruised ribs that throbbed in protest.
The bruise that formed on her left eye from the force of Lithgow's fist collided with her throbbing along with its sister on the right.
Her teeth biting down splitting the half healed lip as she fought back her anger.
The Dean was not worthy of her tears. Or her simmering anger.
She wouldn't break.
Not here.
Emotions are weapons.
She would not give them up so easily.
"I understand how that must have felt," the Dean urged, voice pinched. Another lie people used, generally when trying to downplay someone else's emotional response to a situation.
"However, you are not alone in that regard." he pushed and Ana bit her split lip to hide the sob that built in her throat.
"Dr. Wallace says you have refused to attend any of the group sessions. Nor have you been an active participant in your mandatory private sessions." He began flipping through the file choosing to be ignorant to the girl's fight to hold back her growing anger.
"Like everything in life, healing takes work, and we can not do the work for you," Dean Wallace continued. Healing is a word that adults around Ana-James liked to use as a synonym of forgetting. We want you to heal, we want to help you heal, as if therapy, medicine, or time would mask the fact the world ended with a premature kill order and a magic space spear.
It's a one way trip.
I know.
There came a muffled voice. Low probably her Uncle arguing that Ana needed time. That was always his go to argument. That she needed time. It was nearly always followed with him comparing her to her father. Comparing her fathers behaviors in grief as if to say that since she hadn't been institutionalized she was doing better. Ignoring the fact that his argument was callous and degrading.
Her Aunt did not share the sentiment. Though she did not believe Ana should be healed after six months. She did believe that there should be more positive progress steps taken and less negative ones.
"The teachers have begun to raise complaints about your work in class, stating that you seem distracted and not up to your usual standards."
Close the portal.
Captain.
"The lower school dorm mother says you have been absent for many house events, and unresponsive at few events you choose to attend."
Stark is up there.
We can't let it get back through.
"The coaches say that you are no longer trying to interact with the others in your group."
Stay your hand widow.
Natasha now!
"And now you are acting out." Her breaths raised quickly now and it hurt. Ana closed her hazel green- brown eyes, ignoring the throbs of pain, and tried to fight through the anger, panic, and grief that threatened to swallow her whole.
You promised.
I am sorry, Kidlet, I love you.
Connection has been severed. The suit is offline.
The breathing wasn't working.
She wanted her Dad.
She wanted her Dad.
"We have already talked to your Aunt and Uncle, and they are in agreement with our next steps. If you cannot return from this break with a better attitude within classes and a commitment to trying to get better you will be returned to the lower school and your year mates in the new year." Dean O'Keefe said, dropping the folder to the table with a slap.
Ana looked up face open for the first time since she entered the office.
"We don't want you to think of this as a punishment or an ultimatum." Dr. Wallace said with a smile, as if that is not exactly what this was. "We want you to think of this as an opportunity to get better. Miss Edwards, we all want you to get better. But you have to want that as well." Dr. Wallace said.
Ana did not want to get better as Dr. Wallace so lovingly put it. Because getting better ment forgetting. Forgiving what happened, forgetting how it felt. Forgetting her Dad.
Come home.
I will, I promise.
Ana did not want to forget her Dad as the rest of the world was so quick to do.
Ana wanted her Dad.
"Panic attack," She heard the voice not muffled. Female. Dr Wallace. Too close. The hair on her arm raised as the woman's shadow loomed over her. She pushed her body back and flopped out of the chair shuffling away to put distance between herself and the doctor.
"What's going on?" Was muffled.
Male. Uncle.
Ana felt the wall at her back and hands on her body moving her limbs. She fought limbs kicking out and nails primed to scratch. She couldn't breathe.
She couldn't breathe. Something grabbed af her right hand pressing it to a chest that was taking gulping breaths. The silent command to match these breaths was clearly understood. So Ana tried to. She did. Really, she tried.
It must have worked slightly because soon a cold bottle of water got pressed into her hand. Then her hand was guided up to her lips and small drops of cold water fell into her mouth.
She slowly sipped at the water for a while before the weight constricting her chest lessened and breathing came a bit easier.
" That's good Ana, that's great. You are doing so well. Just breathe okay," The doctor said as a hand reached out to rest against Ana's shoulders. The girl threw her body back at the shadowed movement and stared at the doctor with wide eyes as the woman stood in response. Hands raised in surrender.
"Miss. Edwards," The Dean said as he too drew closer.
"Ana-James," the measured tone of her aunt.
"Ana." Her uncle.
There were too many people. Ana needed to leave. She needed to leave. She wanted to bolt, but if she did they would chase her and she wouldn't be able to claw her way back to reality until the panic took its course.
So she had to ask. Had to push past the lump in her throat and speak.
"Can'' Ana said, voice low and measured as her eyes went back to the window searching for the rolling thunder and the discarded drops she had abandoned, hoping they could once again give her peace.
They didn't and still Dean O'Keefe gained.
"Can I" she said her voice barely above a whisper as she felt emotion well up in her.
She couldn't breathe.
Everything hurt and She still couldn't breathe.
A hand rested on her shoulder and the first of a new round of sobs ripped its way from her throat.
More wanted to follow.
She forced them down.
Emotions are weapons.
Control them or they will control you.
She pushed herself up off the ground and stood ram-rod straight.
"Can I be dismissed?" Ana said, eyes closed, voice sure and strong.
A noise of protest could be heard from the Dean as well as denials from the phone received. But the doctor's hand dropped so Ana paid nothing else any mind as she twisted to the door. Grabbing the handle of the door she swung it open and moved quickly out of the Dean's office allowing the heavy door to slam shut behind her.