TW for references to ableism and abuse
Maybe it had been naïve of her, but Melinda hadn't realized just how much work scheduling things was going to become once she added three new humans into her life. When it had just been her and Phil, there had hardly been anything to schedule at all. Their lives followed a simple, familiar rhythm of breakfast together, work apart, and then dinner together at the end of the day. It wasn't the most exciting life, but they found ways to keep things interesting: outings with friends, surprise date nights at fun, new restaurants Phil was dying to try, and the occasional weekend spent in a cozy little bungalow at the lake. There hadn't been so much to keep track of, but now… well, now it was all May could do to make sure everyone came home safely at night. Doctor's appointments for Bobbi, tutoring for Skye, meetings at the school for Jemma – and she wasn't even the one keeping on top of the little things like meals and homework. She had always been organized – meticulously so, according to some, although she scoffed at the suggestion that her systems were "over the top" – but all of this was a challenge even for her.
She and Phil had been trying for days to find a time to sit down and meet with Victoria to talk about the girls, but so far all they had managed were quick phone calls here or some snippets of email exchanges there. They had updated Victoria on the situation with Skye, of course, and had told her about their plans to meet with Polly Hinton, but there was no substitute for a true, sit-down meeting with all three of them present, so they could finally clear some things up about the girls.
When they had finally managed to find a day where Victoria could spare an hour, and where Phil wasn't needed at the school during lunch, it of course ended up being on the same day that May was supposed to take Bobbi to Dr. Gambhir to see about getting her off crutches in the morning.
"It's fine," Phil had assured her the night before. "It'll be fine. You'll take Bobbi in the morning like we planned, then you two can meet me and Victoria for lunch, and I'll take Bobbi back with me to school for the afternoon."
"I know, you're right," May sighed, settling into bed beside him. "I know it's not as complicated as I'm making it out to be. I'm just not used to juggling quite so many plates, I guess."
"Your juggling is outstanding," Phil said with a playful smile. "You're ready for the circus, as far as I'm concerned."
"And what does that make you?" May smirked. "The acrobat who can bend over backwards to make everyone happy?"
"I was hoping for ringmaster, but I'll take acrobat," he teased back, waggling his eyebrows at her. May rolled her eyes at his antics, but a smile was eking its way out. "Just so long as you don't think of me as the clown in all of this, I think I'm content," he told her.
"Not a clown," May promised, leaning in close and pressing a kiss onto his forehead. "Although you've been known to play the fool sometimes. But never a clown to me."
Phil tilted his chin, moving so that he could reach to plant his own kiss back onto her. His mouth found a spot along her jawline, right in the ticklish part where jaw met the space under her ear, and May fought to keep from squirming at the touch. It was a silent understanding of their marriage that she pretended as though she wasn't ticklish, and Phil pretended as though he believed her. It was sweet of him to let her keep up the façade of stoicism, although she knew Phil considered it his personal mission in life to get her to break at every opportunity he could.
Phil noticed her trying not to wriggle, and he smiled widely into the kiss. When he pulled away, his eyes were positively sparkling with mischief.
"Don't even think about it," May warned him, holding up a cautionary finger.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said innocently. He rolled to one side and propped himself up on his elbow so that he could look right into her eyes. "I'm just kissing my wife. My unticklish, super serious wife, who I love very much but also think could learn to relax a little."
"I relax," May protested. "I'm relaxed right now."
"You were just worrying over tomorrow's schedule a minute ago. That's not relaxed."
"Fine. Maybe not now, but I do relax. Tai chi is relaxing. Spending time with you and the girls is relaxing."
Phil laughed. "Liar," he teased. "Just because you like spending time with us doesn't mean it's relaxing for you. You're always making sure everyone's good, everyone has what they need—"
"Maybe you and I just have very different definitions of relaxation," May teased back.
"I'll teach you mine if you teach me yours," Phil enticed. He reached out and rubbed the side of his thumb all the way from her cheek down to her chin, tilting her face towards him. He was grinning, his eyes all shooting stars and fireworks. It was infectious.
"Deal," May said, the grin she'd caught from Phil splitting her own face wide. "But you better be ready to be up at five tomorrow morning."
Phil hadn't gotten up with her at five, but Melinda hadn't really expected him to. He was sleeping peacefully, and she hated to wake him. Plus, she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted Phil joining her for tai chi. He had never been all that keen on exercise that didn't involve a ball or a whistle. They had taken a couples' yoga class with Victoria and Izzy once, a few years ago, and that had ended in hilarious disaster, with Phil knocking over the rack of mats and blocks in the middle of sun salutations and Izzy throwing out her back by trying to stand on her head before she had even figured out the difference between cat and cow pose. Phil and Izzy had given up halfway through, and May and Victoria found them half an hour later laughing uproariously and tucked in a booth at the Pie-in-the-Sky diner with empty pie plates in front of them. They hadn't gone back to the yoga class, although they enjoyed retelling the story as many times as they could, and May had decided to stick with solo tai chi.
There was a reason she chose to start her day with quiet contemplation and practicing the discipline needed to approach the fast brute force of life with a slow and measured response. It gave her balance, grounded her before she stepped out into a world that, more often than not, felt like it was trying its hardest to knock her off her feet. As much as she loved Phil, he wasn't much for meditation, and she didn't think he felt the struggle to stand upright in the same way she did. He had his own ways of anchoring himself to the world, of finding his peace.
For all the fretting she had done about the schedule, the morning went off without a hitch. Phil got Jemma and Skye off to school, and May had time to tackle a few early morning work emails before it was time for her and Bobbi to leave for physical therapy.
Dr. Gambhir was pleased with Bobbi's progress, and Bobbi was gaining more confidence in her healing knee. It was exciting to watch the sparks of determination start to catch like kindling in Bobbi's eyes as the doctor helped her flex and rotate, then put weight on, her leg. Bobbi hadn't exactly been timid since coming to live with them, but May could tell she had been keeping a lot of things buttoned up. Not that she blamed Bobbi, of course. She could only imagine what must be churning around in Bobbi's head most of the time, but still, it was nice to see glimpses of a girl with grit in her heart and a fire in her belly after everything that Bobbi had gone through to get there.
"Your muscles are restrengthening nicely," Dr. Gambhir said as he guided Bobbi through taking a few tentative, supported steps across the room, then back to her seat on the table. "And you've regained a good range of motion. Right on target for what we'd want to see at this point in the recovery. I'd like to fit you for a new brace – a walking brace – that you can wear all day. With the walking brace, you shouldn't need the crutches anymore, although I would recommend holding onto them, just in case. You shouldn't be overexerting yourself, but if you find there's a day where you're more fatigued than usual, or experiencing any pain in the knee, I'd advise you to pull the crutches back out. At least until I can get a look and see if there's a risk of reinjury."
Bobbi nodded solemnly, drinking in his words. She didn't say much during the physical therapy sessions, but May had a sneaking suspicion that was just Bobbi's way of tackling the problem of her recovery. Laser focus, pushing herself to fight for every step, eyes only on the end goal. They hadn't talked about it outright, but May had watched the way Bobbi studied the soccer field at the game they'd all gone to. She'd seen how talking about soccer managed to coax more enthusiasm out of Bobbi than almost anything else. She knew that getting back on the field was what Bobbi was fighting for.
"I'm going to warn you now," Dr. Gambhir cautioned, "this is one of the toughest parts of the recovery process for a lot of my patients. You're starting to feel strong again, and you've gotten a taste of returning to your old self. It's very tempting to push yourself too far, too fast, because it feels like you should be able to start doing things as you once did, but it's imperative that you not take things faster than your body is telling you it can. Stick with the exercises I've given you, keep coming to appointments. Take it slow. I want you to start to try walking normally, but keep your distances short for a while. No running for now, no high-impact exercises, no hiking, things like that. Each day you'll get stronger, and we'll keeping working here in my office, but the last thing you want to do is set yourself back because you tried to rush your body. Understood?"
"Understood," Bobbi echoed. Dr. Gambhir worked quickly, finding the right brace to replace Bobbi's old one with and adjusting it around her knee. Once it was in place, he gestured for Bobbi to stand up under her own power. Bobbi's eyes flicked over to May for the briefest of seconds – a split moment that May might not have caught had she not been watching Bobbi so carefully – and searched for something. Confirmation, maybe, or encouragement. May nodded slowly, a steady, strong nod that she hoped told Bobbi that she believed Bobbi could do it, that Bobbi would be okay.
It must have worked, because Bobbi pushed herself off of the table and up onto her feet without the help of the doctor. She wobbled momentarily, then righted herself without anyone's help.
"How does the brace feel?" Dr. Gambhir asked. "Not too loose?" Bobbi shook her head. "Can you tell the difference in support between that one and your old one?" he wanted to know.
Bobbi nodded this time. "It's easier to stand with this one on, I think."
"Good," smiled Dr. Gambhir. "That's the goal. All right, I'd like you to try and take a few steps without using anything to lean on. No crutches, not me. Take your time, especially while you're getting used to the new balance. The handrail's right there on the wall if you feel unsteady."
Something tensed in Bobbi's shoulders – May watched the muscles tighten and her arms freeze up for a second – and it looked briefly like Bobbi wanted to reach out and grab something to hold onto, despite the doctor's instructions. Then, the moment passed and Bobbi lifted her foot and took her first independent, tottering step on her newly healed leg. Then, she took another, and another, each one less tentative than the next, and May watched as a delighted, triumphant grin crashed over Bobbi's normally well-masked face.
"I'm walking!" Bobbi said, joyous excitement bubbling up in her words. She twisted around to look back at May, and something like sunshine and adrenaline erupted in May's chest. It wasn't entirely foreign to her, but she had never experienced such an intense feeling of pride so suddenly before.
"Look at you," May told her, her voice coming out a little more thickly than she'd intended. She smiled broadly at her girl. Her girl? Where had that come from? May had surprised herself with the thought, but the more she watched Bobbi work to move across the room, her smile widening and her posture straightening more with each step, the more she liked the way it sounded in her head. Her girl. Her wonderful, strong, and brave girl. "I'm so proud of you."
"I can't wait to see the look on Phil's face," Bobbi grinned as they eased the car into the parking lot of the Pie-in-the-Sky diner. Phil's car was already there, so he must be waiting inside for them, but May noticed that Victoria seemed not to have arrived yet.
"Me neither," May admitted, letting a small smile escape. "He's going to be so surprised."
They got out of the car and May led the way into the diner. Carolyn the waitress was behind the counter, chatting through the window with Hoagie, one of the cooks. May was sure that couldn't be his real name, but she'd never, in all the years that she and Phil had been coming here, heard anyone call him anything else.
"Have a seat, sugar," Carolyn called as they came in. "You know where to find him."
She was right, of course. May knew exactly where to find Phil, nestled happily into his favorite booth, a menu propped in front of him.
"Hi honey," Phil greeted her warmly, scooting over a little to make room. "How was your morning?"
"Fine," May said casually. She slid in next to him. "Bobbi has something she wants to show you."
"Oh?" Phil looked around, realizing that he hadn't seen her come in. May watched as his eyes lighted upon their eldest daughter, who was lingering in the entryway to the restaurant. "What's she doing all the way over there?"
"You'll see."
May gave Bobbi a small nod, and Bobbi's mouth quirked into a happy, bashful shape before she proudly, carefully, deliberately walked across the dining room and closed the distance between them.
"Oh my god," Phil breathed. His eyes were shining, and May could tell he was nearly overcome with the same pride and wonder she had felt watching Bobbi walk. "Bobbi, that's incredible. You're incredible."
"It's just some walking," Bobbi said, blushing. She eased herself into the booth, careful to navigate the brace around the table.
"Don't be silly," Phil said. "It's a big accomplishment. Don't sell yourself short. You've been working so hard on your recovery, and this is… I mean, you're walking Bobbi. Your kneecap was shattered a month and a half ago and you're walking. We are so getting pie after lunch today."
"Any idea what types Carolyn's cooked up today?"
"She's kept them close to the vest so far, but I swear I can smell the brown sugar and molasses cooking for a shoo-fly pie, so fingers crossed," Phil grinned.
"It must be your lucky day," May teased. Phil's mother had made shoo-fly pies all the time when he was growing up, and he still loved to eat them. May had tried on several occasions to duplicate her mother-in-law's recipe, but it never came out quite right. According to Phil, the only person who had ever come close to making one as good as his mother was Carolyn. "Any word from Vic yet? She should be here soon, I think."
"She sent me a text before she left her last meeting," Phil said. "She was about ten minutes out, and that was…" He checked his watch. "…about eight minutes ago."
"So she'll be right on time, as usual," nodded May.
True to form, by the time Carolyn had swung by and taken their drink orders, the bell over the door jingled and signaled the arrival of Victoria Hand. She wasted no time in clipping over to their booth and taking the empty seat next to Bobbi, and May thought she looked a little more harried than usual.
"Hello all," Victoria said, taking stock of her surroundings. "Gosh, Phil, I don't think I've been in this place since the yoga fiasco."
"Fiasco is a little strong, don't you think?" chuckled Phil. "We all came out unscathed, plus we got pie out of it."
"Well, you and Izzy got pie out of it," smirked Victoria. "May and I got to apologize profusely to an overly-emotional twenty-something in yoga pants and then spend the next twenty minutes chasing you two across town."
"How about I get you a slice of pie today and we'll call it even?" Phil grinned. "We were going to get some after lunch to celebrate Bobbi's big news anyways."
"That sounds like a deal I can agree to," Victoria said. "Bobbi, what's this big news we're celebrating?"
Bobbi looked a little caught off guard by the question Victoria directed her way, but once she had collected her bearings, she responded casually, like she wasn't quite sure how proud of herself she was allowed to be. "I'm walking now. No more crutches. My physical therapist says I'm making really good progress."
"That's wonderful, Bobbi, congratulations," Victoria said, gracing Bobbi with a rare smile. Bobbi's cheeks flushed, but she returned the smile shyly. "Izzy will be so happy to hear that. She's taken quite a liking to you, I think."
"You mean Detective Hartley?" Bobbi asked. With a guilty sting, May realized that they had never clarified the relationship between Victoria and Izzy to Bobbi. "The one from the hospital?"
"Yes," nodded Victoria. "I don't discuss details of my cases with my wife normally, of course, but since Izzy was involved before I was, she asks about you from time to time. I think she liked your spunk."
"Your wife," Bobbi echoed slowly. "I didn't know… you never said – "
"We try to keep our relationship strictly professional while we're both on the job," Victoria explained. "And I don't usually bring up my personal life with the kids I work with. May and Phil seem to bring out the exception to my rule."
"I tend to have that effect on people," joked Phil.
May shook her head with a smile. Truer words have never been spoken. Phil had the uncanny ability to coax people into letting their guard down or bending their rules without really even trying to. It wasn't manipulative in any way; he just had an ease about him that made people relax in ways they might not ordinarily. She had broken several of her self-imposed relationship rules when she started dating him, and obviously now she had no regrets about letting the chortling man beside her prod her out of her comfort zone all those years ago.
"Well, at the risk of sounding brusque, I'm going to suggest we turn to business," Victoria said, once their laughter had quieted. "I know we all have tight schedules today and I want to make sure I maximize your time."
"Not brusque at all," May assured her. She was ready to get down to business as well, and was grateful to Victoria for steering them in that direction.
"Bobbi, I'm sorry to do this, but do you think you could sit somewhere else for a minute?" Victoria asked. "Maybe up at the counter, where we can still see each other? It's just that I can't really talk about Skye and Jemma in front of you while they're still my cases. Confidentiality concerns, all that." May noticed the little lines that creased at the corners of her friend's mouth. Victoria felt badly about sending Bobbi away, but May knew better than to expect Vic's flexibility regarding the rules of her position to extend any farther today.
Bobbi had no problem with the request, though, and she squeezed past Victoria and out of the booth. Carolyn flashed them a wink as she laid out a fresh set of silverware up at the counter and immediately struck up a conversation with Bobbi as she perched on the swivelly stool. Bobbi was in good, albeit chatty, hands.
"Okay, so fill me in," Victoria said seriously, once they were alone and their food had arrived. "I know we talked on the phone after Skye's… incident. I'm so sorry about that, again. Skye's not normally one who I worry about running. I would have prepared you if—"
"Vic, please, it's fine," May told her. "Scared the hell out of us, but it wasn't your fault. You've already apologized, and so has Skye. She understands how serious it was, and honestly, she's been walking on eggshells ever since."
"I'm not surprised," Vic nodded. "That's a common response to being given a second chance. She doesn't want to mess things up again."
"We've tried to help her understand that it's okay to make mistakes, as long as you learn from them," Phil said. "We want her to feel comfortable enough to fail with us, if that makes any sense. We want all of them to understand that perfect behavior isn't a condition of our caring, but it's taking a while for that message to sink in."
"The fact that you're trying, that you want to send that message to them… that's huge, Phil. I'm sorry to say that it's an unlikely message for them to have heard much over the years." Victoria paused, smiled. "I knew you two would be good at this."
"It's all Phil," May said, turning her gaze lovingly on her husband and scooping up his hand under the table for a squeeze. "He's so good with them. He even had a little bit of a breakthrough with Skye the other night after the meeting with the guidance counselor, we think."
"Oh, the guidance counselor!" Victoria said suddenly. "I almost forgot. How did that go?"
"It was an… interesting meeting," Phil settled on. "A good meeting, for sure, but it opened up a lot of new questions for us. Polly Hinton – she's the guidance counselor – she's an old friend, and she's one of the best, as far as I'm concerned, but… well, there's just a lot about Skye and Jemma that we didn't know about. I think hearing some of what Polly had to say helped us realize just how little we actually know."
Victoria nodded sadly. "I'm afraid that's the case with a lot of kids in the system here. So much falls through the cracks, despite our best efforts."
"Have Skye or Jemma been evaluated before?" May asked. "By other guidance counselors or professionals? Are there any other records out there that we should know about?"
"Yes and no," Victoria waffled. "I know there have been a few attempts over the years to get the girls seen by different specialists, with varying degrees of success. Jemma's been given a number of aptitude tests by her different schools over the years. I'm sure you saw some of those on her school records. The school that they went to while staying at St. Agnes – Our Lady of Mercy – was fairly strict on keeping students in their age-appropriate grades and didn't have any kind of gifted program, so there wasn't much in the way of evaluation for Jemma there. It hasn't happened since I've been her case manager, but I know some of Jemma's earlier families tried to get her seen by a different professionals. It's my understanding that didn't go well. She's never told me explicitly what her experience with that was, but the families in question weren't particularly good ones, so I would imagine they were more interested in changing her behaviors than understanding them."
"What does that mean, exactly?" Phil wanted to know.
"That they wanted a doll instead of a child. Or maybe a dog that they could train," Victoria said drily. "They were looking for a way to change Jemma so that she fit more neatly into the lives they had imagined for themselves, rather than for a way to reshape their lives to accommodate and support the fully-formed person they had just welcomed into their home."
"Polly had some suggestions about ways that we could help keep Jemma engaged at school, and Jemma picked out one that sounded good to her, so we're going to give that a try soon. We've set her up with a tutor who can give her extra work and give her a chance to explore some subjects that interest her more than what she's getting in school," Phil said.
"That sounds like a great plan. I think the fact that Jemma got to choose that is hugely important," Victoria smiled. "Honestly, giving her agency when it comes to her education, or really any part of her life, is something that we always want to see. So many decisions about these kids get made without their input. It's unfortunate."
"She also suggested we consider having Jemma evaluated for autism," May added. "Polly's daughter is autistic, and she mentioned that there were some similarities between the girls. Has anyone ever mentioned that to you or Jemma before?"
"Not directly, no," Victoria said. "It's crossed my mind a few times, just as I've gotten to know Jemma better and started noticing some of her little tendencies, but the nuns have never been particularly receptive to the idea of getting the kids diagnosed with anything that's not life-threatening. I think they worry it will hurt a kid's chances of getting fostered, but if you want my opinion – "
"We always do."
"Well, my opinion is that it hurts a kid's chances of finding a forever home if families don't have a full picture of the child they're fostering. Maybe fewer people will take a chance on a kid that has a formal diagnosis in their file, but the ones who will take that leap stand a better chance of being the right fit. I've tried for years to get St. Agnes to see it that way, but they won't budge. Of course, they still train left-handed kids to use their right hand, so you see what I'm up against here."
"So do you think that's an avenue we ought to pursue with Jemma? If she's open to it, of course?" Phil asked. "Polly seemed to think it might help in terms of getting her some accommodations at school, but we don't want to do something that's going to hurt Jemma in the long run."
"I think, if Jemma's on board, then it might not be such a bad idea to see what a good professional thinks. If I had to guess, Jemma knows good and well that she's a little different from her peers, so maybe having a label to explain why she doesn't fit as naturally will come as a comfort. I'd take my cues from her on this, though. Like I said, from what I've gathered, she's seen some bad doctors in the past, so she might rather not take that route. If you want, I can speak with her about it when I come by next week for house visits and check-ins."
"That would be great," Phil nodded. "We'll talk with her about it too, of course, but I think having your input would be good. You've known her a lot longer than we have."
"That may be true, but she's opened up more around you two than I've ever seen. Clearly you're doing something right with her that I've yet to discover."
"I think Skye may have more to do with that than us," May smiled. "Those two have a way of bringing out the best in each other."
"They do," Victoria agreed. "But don't sell yourselves short. They can't bring out the best in each other if they don't have the space to do so. They've always been close, but back at St. Agnes it was an insular kind of closeness. They drew into one another to keep out the rest of the world. It seems like now they're drawing outward from each other. Helping each other to grow rather than just survive. That doesn't happen unless they've got a safe place to put down their roots."
"You're getting sappy again, Vic," May chided playfully to distract from the creeping embarrassment that was flushing up the back of her neck. Beside her, Phil's expression was dewy. "If you set Phil off, we're never getting out of here."
"Your right, I'm sorry," Victoria laughed. "We still have your other kids to talk about. Tell me about Skye. What did the guidance counselor have to say about her? I know Skye's had some disciplinary problems in the past, and academics have never been her strong suit…"
"She thinks that a lot of Skye's issues might be stemming from learning disabilities," Phil said. "I'd already noticed how difficult reading is for her, and Polly thought there was a possibility of dyslexia. She mentioned ADHD, too."
"That would explain a lot," Victoria sighed. "Again, the nuns were never especially keen on getting the kids tested for things like that, but that would make a lot of other things about Skye make sense. She's always been earmarked as someone with behavioral issues, which is a bit of an unfair assessment, if you ask me. She's a good kid, especially one-on-one, but she's always had a hard time with structured environments. She's impulsive and emotional and reactive, but it's never from a place of malice or rebellion. You know all this."
"We do," smiled Phil. "She's a spitfire, but she's a sweetheart, too. Like with Jemma, Polly told us that we'd have to see a specialist for a formal diagnosis, but if we get one for her, there are a lot of things the school can do to help her."
"The tricky part is that Skye has already made it very clear she has no interest in seeing a doctor," May said. "We first brought it up after she had run away, actually. She said some things to me that raised some red flags, and Phil and I thought it might help her to talk to someone about the things that she's feeling, find some strategies for coping with all those big feelings she has, that sort of thing. She shut us down almost immediately."
"That doesn't surprise me." Victoria pursed her lips slightly, took a moment to fiddle with her glasses. It wasn't a huge tell, but May had known and worked with Victoria for long enough to know that meant she was choosing her next words carefully.
"It's my understanding that Skye's been sent to a number of doctors and therapists in the past. Some foster families were looking to get a fix for her behavior, especially as a younger child. She had a lot of energy and a lot of emotions and no way to channel either of those things. A few of her old families accused her of being violent, or of having outbursts, so I know the nuns probably did everything they could to wrestle those things out of her or cover them up. There was a man who worked with them – his official title was 'spiritual counselor' or something along those lines. He wasn't a licensed psychologist or anything like that, but I guess he had some kind of therapeutic training because he would come in and advise the nuns in that capacity. Never official diagnoses of course, they didn't want that on the records, and frankly, I'm not sure he was qualified to give them, but from some of the notes Skye's previous social worker left me, Skye and the counselor didn't get along very well. I've never managed to get much out of her about it, but I would guess that's the source of a lot of her reluctance. Well that, and the fact that Skye doesn't really like to talk about her feelings, despite wearing them on her sleeve."
"God, did anything ever go right for these kids?" May breathed sharply. The muscles in her jaw tightened at the thought of all of the damage that had been inflicted upon Skye and Jemma. At the hands of people who were supposed to be in charge of their care, no less.
"They found you two," Victoria said softly. "It only takes one person to change a child's life for good. And they've got double that, now."
"Triple," Phil corrected. "Don't think we don't see how much you're doing for our girls, Vic. It's clear how much you want to help them."
"It's just part of the job." Victoria flushed and waved Phil off like it was nothing. May snorted.
"You can't dish out sappy compliments and not expect to get some in return," she quipped.
Victoria rolled her eyes, but the beginnings of a smile flickered across her face. "All right, all right, point taken."
"Serious question, Vic," May said, after a minute. "How is St. Agnes still allowed to run? I feel like I've heard nothing but horror stories of the place. There's no way they're meeting state guidelines…"
"They're private, well-funded, backed by a powerful institution," Victoria said, ticking things off on her fingers. "Honestly, they've got plenty of issues, but compared to some of the other options out there, they're not too terrible. They have a decent success rate when it comes to placing kids in homes, and the ones that stay there until they age out have a good chance of graduating high school, since the school is connected to the same diocese the group home is. A high school diploma is huge for a kid in the system, and the state looks favorably on that. I'm sure they have some other positives that aren't coming to mind right now, but it's all enough that the state is willing to overlook some of the serious negatives of the place. If it was up to me, I'd shut the place down in a heartbeat, but there are so few group homes as it is, and even fewer that are equipped for long-term living the way St. Agnes is… I guess some people figure a subpar place like St. Agnes is better than no place at all. The last thing anybody wants is more kids living on the streets, fending for themselves."
"It just seems so wrong," May shook her head. "They shouldn't be allowed to treat kids that way."
"You've just echoed my daily mantra," said Victoria with a grim smile. "That's why we do what we do. That's why we fight the battles we do. Somebody needs to stick up for the kids who can't stick up for themselves. Somebody needs to call out the things that are wrong and challenge the systems that are in place to be better. Somebody needs to be the shield that stands in between the defenseless and the indefensible, the sword that cuts through thickets of injustice to clear a path towards what's right."
"I guess that makes you a knight in shining armor," Phil smiled, "wielding that sword and shield and all."
"No," Victoria said seriously. "That role's all you. I'm the tools to get there, but you're the ones who use them. I can't do my job if I don't have people who I can look to for support. It's not a solitary endeavor."
"All right, that's enough, you two," May teased. "Vic, I already told you not to make Phil cry. We don't have time for that."
"You're right," Victoria conceded, glancing briefly at her watch. "No reason to get carried away. I don't want to keep you any longer than I already have."
"We still have time," Phil assured them both. "Bobbi and I don't have to be back at school for another twenty minutes. That's long enough for pie."
"You do owe me a slice," smirked Victoria.
Hey wow, it's been 87 years since I've posted anything! Not really, but it has been almost a month, which is way longer than I meant it to be. Thank you all so much for your patience. Life's been just really hectic lately, and work's got me much busier than I expected, so writing's been a little slow lately. I know for a while I was working off of my "three chapters every two weeks" schedule, but I might have to relax that somewhat (if the last two updates of only two chapters at a time are any indication!). Anyway, thanks for sticking with me :) I'm very happy you're still here!