Murder of a Royal Pain

But the woman’s glare returned when Skye brought up her concern over the lack of assessment data in the psychiatrist’s report, and she snapped, “Are you telling me you think you know more than a medical doctor?”

“That’s not what I said.” Skye kept her voice even. “I said that considering that Travis has a superior IQ, is achieving at a commensurate level, and is passing all his classes, a learning disability is not indicated according to the state and federal guidelines as they exist now.”

“So you’re excluding him from services?”

“Not necessarily. Perhaps the psychiatrist did have testing done, and perhaps those results do indicate that Travis is LD, but that information is not in the report you gave me, and the doctor has not returned my calls.”

“You’re telling me we spent twenty-five hundred dollars”—Mrs. Idell’s voice shrieked like a noon factory whistle—“and you’re not going to give my son the help he needs?”

“Not at all. What I’m saying is that I need to see some details so I can figure out what type of services he requires.” Skye scooted her chair as far away as possible from the irate woman.

“I’m sick of jumping through hoops for you and this sorry excuse for a school.” Mrs. Idell pounded on the table. “Either Travis starts receiving help tomorrow morning, or I’m going to make all of you sorry—especially you, Ms. Denison.”

CHAPTER 6

Moments Like These

“That went well.” Homer sneered. He and Skye had moved to her office after Mrs. Idell had stormed away. “Just stick the little bugger in special ed. It would serve him and his mother right.”

Skye closed her eyes in an attempt to find her happy place, counted to ten, and bit her tongue, but she still blurted out, “Have I been talking to myself for the past four years? We can’t simply slap a student in special education. We need data to back up the decision. And it would not ‘serve him and his mother right.’ He needs counseling, which I’ve offered to provide on numerous occasions, and she and her husband need parenting classes, which you refuse to let me suggest to them.”

“Okay, okay, already.” Homer scowled. “You know I was only kidding.” He paused in his pacing and stared down at Skye, who was seated behind her desk. “You’re not usually this touchy. Something wrong?”

“No.” Skye blew out a lungful of air. “Everything’s fine. I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

“Good. We don’t have time for you to be having some sort of breakdown.”

“Right.” Skye kept a straight face. “The school year must go on.”

“Glad you’re on board.” Homer resumed his pacing, then spun on his heel and marched over to Skye. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. Since you have such a bad history with the Idells, I’ll assign Jackie to be case manager. From now on she’ll handle all parent contact. You keep trying to pin down that damn psychiatrist.”

Skye frowned, a protest on her lips, then reconsidered. Homer had a point. She had never managed to establish a rapport with the Idells; it made sense to let Jackie try. “That’s a great idea.” Skye hid a small grin. Besides, if the new social worker failed, it would prove that it wasn’t only Skye with whom the parents had problems.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll have a talk with Jackie and bring her up to speed.” Homer stood. “She’s doing a fantastic job. I’m sure she can fix this mess, too.”

Homer scurried from the room before Skye could respond. She stared at the closed door for a second, then glanced at the wall clock. Her headache was nearing migraine level, and she had to be at the Promfest meeting in fifteen minutes.

She opened her bottom drawer and stared at its contents. Nestled side by side were a bottle of Aleve and a fresh package of Double Stuf Oreos—she had finished off the previous cookies last Friday. Would a pill or a cookie get her through the meeting without her head exploding?

Who was she kidding? She’d been eating a half dozen Oreos every afternoon this past week. Skye had ignored Jackie when she’d kidded Skye about being addicted. But now as Skye reached for the medicinal chocolate wafers with the oh-so-soothing cream center, she wondered if Jackie might be right.

No, Skye comforted herself. Of course not. Everyone knows that a balanced diet consists of a cookie in each hand. With that assurance in mind, she twisted the first one apart and licked the frosting out of the middle. Sighing, she felt herself relax for the first time since she’d arrived at school. After devouring five more of the healing cookies, she was ready to face the Promfest committee.

Annette Paine had complained about the picnic table–type seating in the cafeteria, so this meeting was being held in the home ec room. The chairwoman probably wouldn’t consider it much of an improvement. Although there were regular chairs, the room was crowded with sewing machines, stoves, washer/dryer combos, and refrigerators.