Chapter 17

I was floored. Did the police know this? Was I allowed to tell them? I shouldn't be in the room with Samantha now, so I wouldn't have heard that had I been in the waiting room like I was supposed to be.

Doc picked up a box of tissues and handed it to Samantha.

"That sounds like it was very scary. Samantha, where were you when your mom was shot?"

"In the kitchen," she said, her voice smaller and shaky.

"Where were your parents?"

"In the kitchen," she said. "They were fighting."

My heart stopped. Samantha had seen this happen.

"What were they fighting about?"

"I wanted to take gymnastics, but my dad said no. When my mom asked why not, he said that gymnastics is a girls sport and he would only pay for boys sports, but since my mom couldn't give him a boy, and he was stuck with a useless daughter, then he wouldn't pay for any girl sh—-stuff and he wouldn't let a girl play boys sports."

I felt my blood boil.

"Then what happened?"

"They argued. My mom told him that daughters are not useless and that he would pay for gymnastics because he couldn't punish me for being a girl. He said 'over my dead body' and something about girls not being able to carry on family names and how his name would die with him because my mom was just as useless and couldn't be bothered to give him a son."

"I bet that made you very sad," Doc said. Samantha nodded.

"And angry. Because I really wanted to take gymnastics. My friend Lisa took it and she said it was a lot of fun."

"So, how did the argument go from not paying for gymnastics to your mom getting shot?"

"They fought about why my mom couldn't have any more babies and that he should be happy that he has a healthy child at all. Then he went into the office and came back and said he'd show her how happy he was that she managed to produce one useless kid. And he pointed the gun."

Samantha stopped talking.

"Where did he point the gun, Samantha?"

I closed my eyes. I was afraid that I knew the answer.

"At me," she whispered.

My heart dropped another four storeys.

"But your dad didn't shoot you. What happened?"

"My mom ran over and tried to take the gun. It went off. And she was gone."

Samantha was shaking again. I didn't know if it was fear or crying. Or both. I was afraid to look at her because I was having a hard time holding it together myself.

The doctor looked sympathetically at Samantha.

"Samantha, I'm sorry that happened to you. And thank you for being so brave and telling me that story. Do you think maybe your foster dad can wait for you outside?"

She latched even tighter to me.

"No! Please let him stay. This time? Please?"

"Mr. Joseph makes you feel safe, does he?"

She nodded.

"And Jenna," she said.

"Why do they make you feel safe?"

"They took care of me when I wound up in their back yard. Instead of leaving me out in the rain, or calling the police and leaving me outside, they called an ambulance when I passed out and stayed with me in the hospital. And they were total strangers then."

"But you're still having trouble with using the right amount of insulin, even with them,"

"Because I've never been allowed to use it. You know how you know something is fine, but a voice tells you it's not? Like a phobia?"

"I think I know where you're going with this," Doc said.

"Well, I know Jenna and Tyler won't be mad if I use the right amount of insulin. And they keep telling me that I should and can. But I still have my dad standing over me telling me I better not because it's expensive. He's the voice in my head. He tells me they're going to kick me out when they find out how expensive diabetes is."

There went my heart. Straight down to the basement. Tears were forming in my eyes. I couldn't imagine the pain this kid was holding in. I couldn't believe the bravery of her telling the doctor all this.

"What do you think? What does the Samantha voice say?"

"I don't have a Samantha voice. Only my dad's. He tells my inner voice to shut up because I'm just a stupid girl who doesn't understand how expensive it is to raise someone so useless to the world."

"Samantha, what are your grades like at school?"

"I do pretty good. Mostly As and Bs. Math is my worst subject but I usually get a B or B+."

"What is your favourite subject?"

"Science and English. I love reading and we do a lot of novel studies. And I like art. I like to draw. I'm not very good, but my teacher has put a few of my drawings up on display."

"That's quite an honor. I suspect that you're a better artist than you give yourself credit for."

She shrugged.

"Art isn't a job. So I can't take it when I go to high school," she said.

"Why not?"

"Because you can't make any money as an artist. And my dad said there is no way he'd support an artist. He said once I'm done high school, he won't support me anymore. He won't waste money on college for a stupid girl who won't be able to do anything useful in the world anyway."

"What do you want to do when you grow up?"

"Nothing."

"Why do you say that?"

"If I'm living with my dad by then, and knowing him, I will be, he probably will kill me before I get to go to college."

"Why do you say that?" Doc's tone changed to one of surprise. But he remained calm.

"He'll either beat me to death or my diabetes will kill me because he doesn't let me use the right amount of insulin."

There are so many things I want to do to that man right now.

"And what if you never have to go back to your dad? What if you could do anything you wanted to? Have you never thought about what you'd want to do?"

"No. Never. My dad told me girls are of no use other than keeping house and they're not even good at that," she whispered.

"Okay. Samantha, you have been incredibly brave. I really like talking to you. Do you think you'd be willing to come back and talk with me again?"

Samantha raised her head and looked at Doc. She nodded and I sighed.

"Do you think that maybe Tyler could wait in the waiting room next time?"

She looked at me. Then back at Doc. She nodded. I smiled inside. That's a lot of progress in just a day.

"Can I see you next week? Same day but after school? I hope you're going back to school soon," he said. We hadn't even thought of school.

Samantha nodded.

"Do you think you can be brave enough and wait in the waiting room while I talk to Tyler for a minute?"

She looked at me and had just a bit of fear in her eyes.

"It'll be okay," I said. "Here, take my phone. You can text Jenna if you want and let her know we're done. And you know I won't leave without you or my phone."

Reluctantly she let go of my arm and left the room. She looked at me as she closed the door.

I looked at the doctor and broke down into tears.