Birthdays of a Princess by Helga Zeiner Read Free Book Online Page B

I soiled my new lime green dress with grape juice
on the first day they made me wear it. I think of getting angry inside, getting
soiled. I think of slow death. Now, the psycho-doc would have a field day with
this line.
     
    Psycho-doc dropped by yesterday for another visit.
    “May I come in?”
    “Do you have an appointment?” I wondered if I could—should?—demand
this, or if I was doomed to constant, unwanted interruptions.
    He smiles, sits down. “I know I’m bothering you.”
    “You don’t say.”
    “After receiving my rather inconclusive assessment of you, in which
I have expressed my opinion that there are underlying issues, as well as my
suspicion that your uncooperative conduct might be self-serving, the court has
now asked for a full assessment of your mental capabilities.”
    “You think I want to be here?”
    “I think you may be hiding certain aspects of your motivation.”
      “How can you think that if I haven’t told you anything?”
     “You might not be consciously aware of it,” he says. “But I
strongly suspect your lack of cooperation is because you don’t want to go home.”
    “Sure, psycho-doc, you know everything!”
    “I know as much as you allow me to.”
    I refuse to answer that.
    “As I said, the court asked for a full assessment and it will be a
lot easier if you’re responsive.” He pauses. “I hope you cooperate.”
    “Maybe.”
    I bet they move me back to the IAU for this, and they wear green in
there. This purple suit gives me the creeps. The this color seeps through my
pores and poisons my insides kind of creeps. Plus, when I’m in the IAU, I
don’t have to attend morning classes. That’s a big deal for me. I drop my arms.
    “Depends what’s involved.”
    “A comprehensive assessment includes full psychiatric interviews,
with multiple full psychology assessment with IQ, personality testing and
interviews, as well as a psychosocial assessment by a nurse and social worker,”
he says.
    “You are kidding!”
    “I kid you not.” He actually grins.
    “You mean a bunch of strangers will want to talk to me?”
    “I only dropped by on my way home to let you know. I usually don’t
do those kind of assessments. Your lawyer will ask for an independent assessment,
and, if you can afford it, a private psychologist.”
    He wasn’t joking when he said I played my card wrong. I don’t want
another shrink. I can barely handle him, but at least he doesn’t invade my
space. Even in my compact Living Unit he leaves as much space as humanly
possible between us.
    “Can’t you do it?”
    “You have a right to refuse and to choose.”
    “I do?” Who would have thought criminals have rights? “If that’s true,
I won’t talk to anybody but you.”
     

 
     
     
    Chapter
13
     
     
    He called Harding before he left for work Monday morning and told
him he’d be running late.
    Then he drove to BYSC.
    When the warden brought the girl in, she looked every bit as sullen
as last time in the interview room at the station.
     “I’m Detective Pete Macintosh,” he said.
    “You don’t need to say that every time.”
    “Oh, that’s great. You remember.”
    “Only what’s happening right now. Sorry to be such a
disappointment.”
    His scalp was itchy, right along the neckline. He scratched it,
thinking the gesture would make him look indecisive. But he had to get rid of
the itch.
    “I didn’t expect anything else from you.”
    A tiny spark lit up in her eyes. But she didn’t contradict him or
try and defend herself or –God forbid—start to explain herself. She just looked
at him.
    “I understand you like to be called Princess Tia.”
     “Says who?”
    “I’m the one to ask questions here,” he said. “You’re the one to
answer.”
    “Make me.”
    He took a deep breath. Christ Almighty, where were his interview
skills? Bullying an uneducated girl her age to extract some kind of reaction wasn’t
exactly textbook. She’d outsmart him again by simply refusing