“I’m concerned about her test scores,” the older man tells Dr. Thorpe in the hallway. I heard them out there, muttering, so I got off my bed and knelt down next to the door. “It’s not unusual for scores to worsen when a citizen is in the Ward, but Amy didn’t even try. She’s given up.”
“What do you think the problem is, Dr. Samuels?” Dr. Thorpe asks, concerned.
“If your goal is rehabilitation, you should ease up on the sedatives,” Dr. Samuels tells her firmly.
“Ms. Harris has been exhibiting some highly erratic behavior,” Dr. Thorpe explains. “Her medication is the only thing keeping her from a complete relapse.”
“Then try something else.” He sighs loudly. “Dr. Reynolds mentioned to me that he is investigating some alternative procedures. He’s had encouraging results with electroshock therapy in several patients.”
“Yes,” Dr. Thorpe tells him. “Dr. Reynolds also mentioned electroshock to me. . . . At the time I didn’t think it was appropriate for Ms. Harris. What’s your opinion?”
“Perhaps . . . ,” Dr. Samuels suggests hesitantly, “Amy would benefit from such a treatment.”
“I’ll take your recommendation under consideration and consult again with Dr. Reynolds,” Dr. Thorpe promises. “Thank you, Dr. Samuels.”
I hear footsteps echoing down the hall and I rest my head on the floor. Dr. Samuels had promised to tell my mother how I was doing. She wouldn’t let them do any of this to me, would she? But what if he’d only said that to placate me? I barely know him. He’d only given me a few tests before I was assigned my class.
Suddenly a memory comes to me. Advanced Theory. Vivian, Tracey, Hector, and Andrew, all sitting around talking about the Floraes, and how someone was sent to the Ward for probing too deeply. Frank. He would be here. Maybe I could find him. He could answer some questions for me.
Or maybe I could get a message to Vivian. If Rice couldn’t help me, she would find a way. Vivian’s so smart and I know she’s someone I can trust. She’ll be here for me, just like she was when I first got to New Hope. She’ll help me if she can.
* * * When school was over for the day, Vivian caught up with me outside class and handed me a lumpy brown muffin. “I saved this for you. You didn’t eat much lunch.”
“Thanks.” I nibbled at the bran muffin, not really all that hungry.
“Um, Amy.” She looked anxious. “I wanted to talk to you. You might want to cool it on all the questions. Some things are best left alone. You don’t want to be sent to the Ward.” She was twirling her long brown hair around her fingers. I’d noticed that about her: she was always fiddling with something. If it wasn’t her hair, then it was a pencil, or her gold cross necklace.
“What is all this about the Ward all the time? It’s starting to sound like a bad joke. What exactly is the Ward?”
“It’s a place where citizens can go to get better,” she said automatically.
“Yes, I’ve heard that before. But if that’s true, then why wouldn’t I want to go there?”
She shook her head, her eyes almost pleading. “People don’t usually come back from the Ward. If you go there, you go there to stay.”
My chest was oppressively tight. I took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “But how do they determine if you need to go there?”
“They base some of it on your psyche-eval. . . . You had one, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Vivian sighed, relieved. “Then you won’t have another one for six months.” She squeezed my arm. “You’ll be fine, Amy. I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything. Just remember what I told you—no more questions.”
I returned her smile but I didn’t feel reassured. Now that I really understood what the Ward was, I felt panicked.
What would happen to Baby if I were sent away?
* * * Later, the door opens, hitting me on my shoulder.
“Amy!” Dr. Thorpe yells in surprise. “What are you doing on the floor?”
“I . . .” I get up slowly. “I don’t know.” I should be more careful.
“Let’s get you back in bed.” Dr. Thorpe helps me over to the bed. “Amy, I have to admit, I’m a little concerned about your behavior.”
I sit down and stare at her. The word electroshock still rings in my ears. I have a flashback to my old house, the electric fence. The Floraes sparking as they touch it, trying to reach me. Trying to kill me. Tears begin to flow down my face. “I’m not going home, am I?”
“No. Not yet, Amy.” Dr. Thorpe frowns. “We haven’t decided just yet how best to help you. But we will,” she assures me. “We will help you.”
I nod unhappily. What if this is it? What if I have to suffer under Dr. Thorpe’s idea of help? Being drugged and tortured. Rice promised to get me out of here. Where is he? Where are my friends? Where is my mother?
I rub my arms, trying to suppress the panic rising inside of me. If anyone is coming, they need to be quick about it. I may not live through my treatments. I may not survive the Ward.
“Rice,” I whisper after Dr. Thorpe is gone. “Please hurry.”
* * * “Amy!” Rice called. He jogged over to me, pushing up his glasses. His shaggy, blond hair disheveled. I wanted to tell him what I discovered about the Floraes, what I’m sure he already knew, but I decided against it. I trusted Rice just as I trusted Vivian, but her warning had left me spooked and cautious.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a yellow jumper. “Baby!” I yelled. She rushed into my arms. I picked her up and swung her around, relieved to see she was grinning.
How was it? I asked, smiling.
Amy, it was sooooo fan! We went to the farm. I saw all the animals from my farm book and I got to ride a horse, a real one. It was big and a little scary, but I want to go back. They said I could, but not for a while.
What else did you do? I asked.
I learned this. She shoved a piece of paper in my face and I looked at it. I wanted to cry. Scrawled across in chicken-scratch letters was B-A-B-Y. This means my name, she told me.
I am so proud of you, I said. We didn’t have a word for proud, but happy happy at your work got the point across. Her face glowed with pleasure.
Here, this is for you. She handed me a sealed envelope. My mother’s name was neatly typed on the outside, but I ripped it open.
“Amy, should you be reading that?” Rice asked.
“Sure, why not?” I scanned the page. It was Baby’s evaluation. She scored a zero for verbal, no surprise there, but was good at reasoning and information retention. At the bottom was a handwritten note. “Baby” shows a willingness to learn and gets along very well with the other children. We hope to progress quickly with her writing and we will continue to encourage verbalization, which we have yet to witness. She shows an aptitude for handling animals, which we will investigate further. She will, perhaps, in the future, be most comfortable as a farmworker or a veterinarian.
After one day they were already discussing what Baby would do as an adult?
“Rice, where’s my evaluation?” I asked.
“Dr. Samuels gave it to me. I gave it to your mother unopened,” he
