“You’ll like the group, Lenny,” Nurse Kimberly promised as I trudged down the hallway like a dog dragged to the vet. “It’s a safe place to share with other teens.” 

I wanted to puke at the thought. If it weren’t for the court order…. 

“Here we are.” She walked me in. “The therapist will be here shortly.” Fifteen pairs of eyes were on me. “Everyone, this is Lenny. Introduce yourselves.” 

I broke into a sweat and tried to appear casual, nodded, smiled, glanced around. The room had a lounge vibe. Floor-to-ceiling windows opened to a postcard view of the desert. A potted plant brightened the corner next to a leather sofa. A kitchenette, a circle of chairs, and…

There she was. Her shoulder-length brunette hair spilled carelessly over her face as she sketched on a pad. White shorts, a yellow halter top, petite. Very cute. The chair next to her was empty. Were the seats assigned? Did she have a boyfriend? My heart raced. I remembered what the shrink told me before I got here. 

“You’re so desperate to be loved, Lenny, you attach to any female. A threat to that relationship, or to her, real or imaginary, causes you to snap, to become violent.”

Knowledge was not a cure. I walked over on rubber legs, sat down, and looked at her sketch. Hideous, hairy, toothy spiders filled the page, black bodies with shiny legs, red mouths, and black eyes. I cringed. She noticed me staring.

“Spiders,” she said, looking at me through emerald-green eyes. “They crawl all over me. I try to kill them and end up bruising and stabbing myself. That’s why I’m here. Dr. Barf-field told me to draw them to get control over them. I’m Alice Steinberg, seventeen. What’s your story?” 

Then she smiled. I know this sounds corny, but she exuded an inner light. She radiated love. I wanted her to love me. My story? Tears rolled down my cheeks. “Lenny. Lenny Greenbaum. I’m eighteen and smashed a chair into a guy at my senior prom. Several times.” Alice handed me a Kleenex. Her hands were soft, with long, slender fingers. A little turquoise ring rested on her pinkie. Her gentle touch brought a wave of warmth over me. She waited.

“I’m holding hands with my date when this dick walks up, totally ignores me, asks her to dance and reaches for her arm. Next, I’m held down on the floor, my tuxedo covered in blood. There was a crowd around me. Cops everywhere. My date gone. The shrink at home asked if I was protecting her or stopping her from leaving me. I don’t know. Both.”

“People who care don’t dance off with someone. I’ll be your friend.” She resumed drawing spiders. Across from me, two eighth-grade boys were discussing Mario games and codes. A guy in the corner, cracking his knuckles, glaring, rocked. 

“I’m Madison,” called one of a trio of girls with streaked auburn hair and pink designer glasses. She leaned slightly forward, her eyes locked on mine. “Welcome to Edelstein Adolescent Treatment Center, the Desert Dumpster. ‘For the cost of a Bentley, make your child disappear.’” 

The other girls laughed. They were pretty. All rich girls are pretty. Yet, they seemed to carry a certain sadness. When I looked into Madison’s gray eyes, no one was there. I wondered who sucked the soul from her. “When does group start?” 

“It doesn’t.” Madison tossed her hair. I figured she was in her sophomore year. Her voice was soft, inviting. Was she coming on to me? I didn’t ask why she was here. Why was anyone here? I wanted to know so I wouldn’t feel so bad. I looked at Alice. “It doesn’t?”

“We haven’t had a therapist in months. After twenty minutes, they take us to the dayroom to watch TV, play games, or go outside. They threatened to kick me out because I’m documenting this. My parents spent a bunch of money for nothing.” She put her sketchpad down. “Soda, Lenny?” 

“Get me one, babe,” a guy in a football jersey jeered, “and bring it here.” He patted his lap and grinned.

Blood rushed to my face, my fists closed, teeth clenched, the room narrowed. When Alice returned with two cokes, she stared at me like she had seen a ghost.

“Jesus, Lenny. What the fuck’s wrong?”

My arms twitched. I covered my eyes with my hands and started sobbing. Now, everyone knows how crazy I am. 

“Aw, poor baby, Did I hurt your feelings?” taunted Jersey. “Alice can’t resist me,” he said, laughing.

My five-ten frame, and 140 pounds lunged at him. My elbow cracked against his face, knocked him to the floor. I kicked him. Hard. He curled up on his side. People ran out screaming. I was standing over him when the staff rushed in and sedated me. They sent me to the resident shrink, Susan Barf-field.

#

The bronze plate on the door read “Dr. S. Marfield, Ph.D.” I anticipated the questions. “Why, and why?” Fuck Jersey! He had it coming. I walked in, fuming. 

Dr. Marfield sat at her desk, a somber statue with dark brown hair pulled back tight against a taut face, her lips compressed into a slit. Bitch face. I guessed she was around thirty. Other than her laptop, her desk was bare. No flowers, photos, nothing. A diploma from somewhere hung on the wall. I had that intimidating feeling of being in the principal’s office or the police station. 

“Sit down, Lenny. I’m Dr. Marfield.” She peered at me through dark brown eyes, like inspecting an insect. “You can make your stay with us an opportunity to improve yourself and your emotional life, or not.” She paused. “You attacked a patient. What happened?”

The sense of déjà vu, being on the gym floor, the police. I leaned forward, put my head in my hands. “He was insulting Alice.”

“What’s the nature of your relationship with Alice?”

“I love her.” I sat up.

“How long have you known Alice?”

I stared at her, dumb and numb.

Marfield pulled a folder from a drawer. “I’ll be doing your psychological evaluation and administering a series of tests.”

What a fucking cold bitch. And my fate was in her hands? My love-starved self, with uncontrolled, violent outbursts, in the hands of a mother replica? Did she feed her dog gourmet chicken? Did she have a dog? Did she have a heart? She held up a stained sheet of paper. “What do you see?” 

The rest of the tests were dumb. Some guy sitting away from his wife in a car. People helpless, uncared for. Marfield set the papers aside and sat back. “You see people as lonely, helpless, and neglected. Can you share how that applies to you?”

Why not? I was here. One memory haunted me. “I remember playing outside at age four, stung by a bee, screaming for my mother, and crying. My mother comes out, looks at me, the dog gets loose, then she runs after the dog and leaves me there.”

“Go on.”

“I felt ignored my whole life. Mother fed dog got gourmet food, and the maid fed me lunch. Two years ago, I began sleeping in a closet and consulting psychics, placing ads in magazines offering five thousand dollars to any female who would love me.” Memories and emotions streamed out and I began crying. 

Marfield handed me tissues and we sat in silence while I grieved. 

My sniffles done, I looked at her. 

“You crave the love, care, and affection you feel you never received. When you don’t get it, your abandonment issues are triggered, and you strike out as if your life depended on it. You are no longer four years old.”

As she spoke, I realized I needed to be here, but it didn’t make me any happier.

She made some notes and looked at me with a glint of warmth. “Having a girlfriend will not relieve you of your fear of abandonment or your belief that you are unlovable.” She paused a moment, then continued. “Girls can protect themselves against insults and decline dances. Your mother is the true object of your rage, which you displace on others. You use these girls as a mother substitute. Think about it.” That hit me hard. Real hard. She glanced at her watch. 

“Are you safe, Lenny? One more incident and we’ll turn you over to the police.” 

This was unbearably painful. I crossed my arms and leaned back in my seat. “Whatever.”

“I’m changing your meds. You’ll see me three times a week for individual therapy and continue attending group. Keep a journal on your laptop. When you feel angry, write the reason down, and ask, is it rational? Then find a positive way to handle it. Now, return to the group room. Dr. Edelstein called a meeting.”

I really wanted to punch her.

#

The room throbbed with tension. Director Edelstein paced back and forth, hands behind his back, lips pressed together. The teens sat like frozen statues. Jersey, his face bandaged, drew his thumb across his throat at me. I flipped him off and sat next to Alice. 

“Games are over,” Edelstein growled. “No one is to jeopardize the good standing of this academy. Some of you avoided jail or juvenile hall by coming here. I can change that.”

He cut his eyes at me and Jersey like a gangster patting his gun.

“He attacked me, Dr. Edelstein. Why should I go to jail?”

Edelstein turned to Jersey; spat out his words. “Because you’re a bully. You mock, torment and shove until your victim snaps. That’s why the school expelled you. Your next stop is juvenile hall, with or without the blessings of the district attorney.” 

Jersey slumped into his chair.

“If either of your parents press charges, or sues this Academy—”

Alice interrupted. “If we had a therapist, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. I still see spiders, asshole, hairy spiders, and no one supervises us. We sit here alone, so, yeah, behavior isn’t going to change.”

Cheers went up. 

Edelstein approached Alice. His six-foot frame towered over her, his face purple. “If our services displease you, Alice, we can transfer you to a state facility.” He paused, took a deep breath, and turned to the group. “Someone will attend to you momentarily,” and stormed out. 

Alice pressed “STOP” on her laptop. “Gotcha! Asshole!”

The glances I exchanged with Jersey made an unspoken truce. 

Someone played Billie Eilish’s 13 Reasons Why, from a laptop. 

“Shut that shit OFF!” A man walked in wearing a shlumpy suit, brown shoes, a wrinkled, frayed purple tie hung from his stained white shirt. Random clumps of gray hairs sprouted from his otherwise bald head. He held a stack of papers in his hand. I thought he was going to ask us for lunch money. 

Alice poked me. “Meet the Suit.”

He squinted at us, his eyebrows like two grey tarantulas kissing, his face grimaced as if he’d smelled a fart, and handed us the papers. “Discuss the twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous.”

We passed the pages around. A lanky guy in a baseball cap and T-shirt with a marijuana leaf symbol taunted, “None of us have a drinking or drug problem.”

Madison shouted, “The only drug problem we have is the crap you make us take!”

“Tailor it to meet your needs.” Suit hurried out the door.  

We gave blank stares to one another. Madison winked at me. She was cute.

“This is bullshit!” boomed the guy from the corner of the room, rocking away in his chair. “…God as we understood Him. I understand God is a Cat and we’re the litter box.” We took it from there.

“I’m Alice. I’m powerless over the freaks who work here. This place sucks.” 

A paper airplane flew overhead.

“Sucks,” contributed Jersey.

“Sucks big,” chorused two girls.

Jeff, with Tourette’s, barked, “Sucks.”

Soon we all were chanting “Sucks, sucks, sucks. This place sucks!”

Then it died down and paper airplanes filled the room. 

A sudden wave of unbearable loneliness came over me. I leaned close to Alice and whispered in her ear, “I love you, Alice. There could never be anyone else. When I’m with you, my entire world is bright, and I’m happy. Run away with me.” 

Alice considered. Her spiders had discouraged any boyfriends. Lenny did care for her. She loathed his violent outburst, sensed his vulnerability, and had grown fond of him. Her heart opened. “Where would we go?”

Hip-hop music bass rattled the windows. “Boom! Boom! Boom!”   

Suit stormed back in, his face beet red, eyes wide.

“What in hell is that noise? Keep it down!”

The guy in the corner boomed, “Get fucked!” 

“Fuck yourself!” added Jeff. 

“Shut it off!” ordered Suit. “Your therapist is late.” 

“Late?” Alice laughed. “There is no therapist, you schmuck. My father is the head of surgery and on the medical review board. If you’re billing for this, that’s fraud.”

Suit considered her threat.

Alice picked up her drawing pad and began slashing the spiders to bits with a felt pen.

“Crazy bastards!” Suit shouted. “I’ll get you a therapist!” 

The PA system announced lunch. 

#

Suit went to Dr. Edelstein’s corner suite. Edelstein had his feet up on his mahogany desk, hands behind his head, gazing out the window at the distant mountains. Photos of a Swiss chalet hung on the wall. He looked up, surprised.

“I can’t take anymore,” Suit whined, and poured himself a bourbon at the wet bar. “Fucking teenagers. They are obnoxious, arrogant, mouthy, know-it-alls. They’ve no respect.” He swallowed the bourbon, poured another, and sat down on the sofa. 

Edelstein chuckled. Idiot. Suit’s brother-in-law was a large donor. When the chips fell, as CEO, Suit would be the one responsible. He crossed his legs and sighed. “You’ve defined adolescence. Deal with it.”

“Their music makes me scream.”

“That’s the point of it.” Edelstein removed a fidget spinner from a drawer and balanced it on his finger. Edelstein leaned toward him; his eyes narrowed. “Remember, each one of them is a walking quarter-million to us. Think of that.”

“Speaking of money, Alice is a serious threat.”

Edelstein sat back, tossed the spinner between his hands. “I’m listening.”

“She asked about our billing and mentioned fraud. I suspect she took photos of the incident in the group room.”

Edelstein frowned, put the spinner down, and pulled Alice’s chart up on his laptop. 

“Patient presents as a healthy, seventeen-year-old, bright female, with hallucinations of spiders. She denies abusing drugs, auditory or other hallucinations, suicidal ideation, or any history of abuse. Patient slashes herself in attempts to kill the spiders. This is her second residence. Patient has not responded to medication or therapy. No restrictions. Diagnosis: R/O Bi-polar, early onset of schizophrenia, other not otherwise specified.”

“Get Marfield in here. You’re directly responsible for the groups. It’s your ass that hangs, Jason. Not mine.”

#

Following her visit with Edelstein, Dr. Marfield returned to her office, pale and shaken. She brought up Alice’s chart. “How,” she muttered, “could a seventeen-year-old be a threat?” Edelstein and his ‘perfect scam’ brought down by a teenager! The problem was, if the boat sank, she sank with it.

Alice’s CAT scans, MRI’s EEG’s, neurological, optical, labs, all negative. Three months at Edelstein had failed to help her. Marfield chewed on a pencil. Despite Edelstein’s demands, Alice did not meet the criteria for schizophrenia, early onset or not. Her perception of fraud was not paranoia. Marfield had initialed each progress note and billed as the provider. She was in Teen Speak, totally fucked, felt lightheaded, reached into her purse, opened a bottle of pills, took a few, and with a sigh of resignation, pressed a button on her phone. “Send Alice here.” 

#

Alice’s roommate, Beverly, hyper as hell, caught up to Lenny during lunch. “Yesterday Dr. Marfield told Alice she was a paranoid schizophrenic and changed her meds. She was so fucked up from them she walked into a wall, fell, hit her head on the floor, and got a concussion. She is in the clinic down the hall. If she doesn’t shut up, they’ll fry her brain with electric shock.” Beverly hurried off.

My immediate thoughts were to rescue her, beat the shit out of everyone in our way; instead, I reviewed it. Alice was being cared for. She can ask for help if she needs it. She is not abandoning me.

I returned to my room to take a nap when Madison walked in wearing a pink midriff tank top and Daisy Duke shorts. She closed the door behind her. “I don’t see spiders.” 

“Jesus, Madison! You can’t be here. What the…?”

“The staff are all at a meeting. You wanna be loved? Here I am.” She walked toward me; her lips parted.

#

I woke to an empty bed, guilty and confused. One minute, Alice and I were running away, the next minute, Madison was in my arms, and we professed our love for one another. What is wrong with me? I forced myself up, showered, dressed, and went to Arts and Crafts, grateful Alice wasn’t there. I didn’t know how to face her, or if I loved her. Or loved anyone. By the looks and titters of the girls, a few guys grinned and nodded at me. The incident with Madison was common knowledge. I was so fucked.

Depressed as hell, I just sat at a table and wallowed in guilt and self-pity. Those awaiting initial assessments made clay figures that cowered. Objects in their drawings hid behind trees, dark skies, houses without windows. 

“What if she thinks I’m crazy!” asked one girl, snipping the head off her paper doll. “I’m not crazy!” She started crying.

“Just sound normal,” from Jersey, whose sarcasm went unnoticed. 

“What’ll she do to us?”

“What if I want to kill people and don’t know it? Or know it?” mumbled the knuckle cracker, holding a paintbrush over an oil suitable for a museum.

The atmosphere bristled with apprehension.

“Expect a Rorschach test,” I offered. “And a cold bitch. She shows you a bunch of ink smears in the middle of a page, and you tell her what you see.”

A girl across from me, painting screaming faces in watercolors, “What did you see?”

“Vaginas.” 

“You told Marfield you saw vaginas?” asked a girl with a shaved head.

Everyone stared at me. I flushed, defensive. “Look, try it. Spill something in the middle of a piece of paper, fold it in half, open it and tell me what you see.” 

A room of papers waved in the air.

The girl who cut the head off the doll was first. “A vagina! Jesus. A fucking vagina.”

“Vagina with wings.”

“Vagina on a skateboard.”

“Vagina with earmuffs.”

“Vagina flower.”

Exhausted from laughter, we quieted down. Giggles, chuckles. “Smiling vagina.”

Suit stumbled in. “Why all this noise?” Which brought uncontrolled laughter until the PA announced, “Free Time.” 

#

Rumors spread that a female patient was looking for tampons at the nurse’s station and saw the security monitor displaying Madison leaving Lenny’s room. By now, the story was so embellished, “She was topless,” all that was missing was a Mariachi band. Vicki, in the clinic with a slight fever, spotted Alice. “Joanne saw Madison leave Lenny’s room buttoning her blouse! She was holding her panties, her hair a mess. They were alone for hours!” 

Had Alice not been nursing a concussion, confused, had she not been bedridden for two days, and irritable, she may have questioned the absurdity of Madison carrying panties down a hallway, buttoning her blouse, and spending hours alone? BUT…

Alice threw her tray across the room, pulled out her IV and screamed, “Let me out of here!” Nurses sedated her. Two days later, after breakfast, the staff discharged her. As she was leaving, she flushed the pills she had spit out down the toilet.

#

Back in her room, with a clear head, Alice opened her laptop and went to “Imperial Health Insurance.” She logged in to her patient portal and went to “Claims.” 

“Edelstein Academy. Group therapy 3 times weekly, $500 a session, $1,500 a week.” Paid.

Edelstein had billed her insurance eighteen thousand dollars for group therapy. She took a screen shot. “Gotcha!” saved it to the cloud and fell asleep. The PA woke her. “Lunch.” She walked down the hallway to the cafeteria, her arrival anticipated.  

#

Alice walked into the wild western showdown scene from High Noon, the street lined with spectators, the clock at one minute to the hour. Both men faced one another, waiting at their guns. Except here were three teens experiencing adolescent angst and hormones in high gear. Those in the cafeteria, having fed on exaggerated gossip for days, watched. 

Alice stood in the middle of the cafeteria, glaring at Lenny, who avoided her gaze and sank into himself. All eyes were on them. The clock struck noon. She drew first. 

“You know, Lenny, you told everyone about your disloyal date? Who disappeared, abandoned you?” She walked to his table, leaned on it, and glared at him. “The prom date who left you? That’s you, Lenny. Selfish you! Madison and you are empty shells, users, trying to fill yourselves at the expense of others.”

Guns blazing, she approached Madison. “You’re a fucking slut. I understand your low self-esteem makes you feed on attention. ‘Fuck me and fill me.’ How’s that working out for you?”

Madison jumped to her feet, teeth clenched, her arm drawn back, ready to strike. Alice walked past her to the counter and ordered lunch. What went unnoticed was Alice was not carrying her trademark sketchpad and slashing spiders. 

The P.A. blared: “All residents will attend a mandatory meeting in the group room in twenty minutes.”

#

Dr. Marfield stood in the group room, rigid, her face drawn, frowning. She addressed the teens with the personality of an ice machine and the compassion of a cobra. 

“We have a serious matter to discuss. I’ve heard the rumors, and don’t know exactly what happened. Regardless, enough occurred to warrant the exchange during lunch and the gossip over the past several days. Impulse control and boundaries are hard for you, I get that. But certain behaviors are unacceptable, whether here or in the outside world. Whatever caused the incident between Madison, Alice, and Lenny has disrupted everyone. It’s likely the reason the three of you are here. So, what was it?”

Marfield scanned the group for reactions.

“That’s not the reason I’m here,” corrected Alice, seated away from Lenny. Click. On.

“The concussion…” She stopped herself. I don’t have time for this bullshit, she thought, and knew what she had to do. “I’m here only because I saw…see spiders.” She smiled blandly. 

“We are treating that, Alice. Your entanglement with Lenny distracted you. I’m sending you to another facility tomorrow for more invasive treatment.” Click stop!

 Alice bit her lip, held her breath, and turned red. “You dumb bitch,” she screamed inside her head. Invasive for you! Time’s up! Alice went to her room, opened her laptop to a large draft, and added the recording. “Send.”

#

At 4:10 PM that same day, a plane landed in Edelstein airfield. A nicely dressed woman in her forties entered the foyer with a tall man in a black sports coat and blue tie.  The speaker crackled. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see my daughter, Alice Steinberg.” 

“Visiting hours are over,” replied a voice.

“I’m not here for a visit. I’m taking my daughter home. We have a plane waiting.” 

“Just one moment, please.”

The door buzzed a woman in and closed behind her with a loud click. 

“I’m Dr. Marfield,” stiffly, trembling. Marfield’s face was a pale grey, her breathing shallow. It was inevitable. Game over.

“Mrs. Steinberg. Alice is not well. We simply cannot release her, but I’ll be sure and tell her you came by.” The buzzer sounded, Marfield left, the door clicked shut.

The man in the sport coat spoke into his collar. 

Moments later, the security door to the main building shattered into pieces.

#

I was in the dayroom when a group of men in black uniforms rushed in. Girls were screaming, people were running everywhere. The men swarmed into offices, collected charts, files, and corralled the staff into a group. A woman with a bullhorn announced, “Attention. We are the FBI. Please remain calm. Your parents are being contacted.” 

Outside, sirens blared, and a chopper landed. “Patients, all lockers are open. Please collect your belongings and return to the day room.”

We got our cells, valuables, and packed the rest of our belongings. The Feds escorted Marfield, sobbing, out in handcuffs. Suit followed, proclaiming his innocence. My stomach flopped. They were not after us. Still, I was frightened. Someone pulled the fire alarm. Staff demanded lawyers. FBI yelled demands which were ignored.

Madison attached herself to me like a cat on a curtain. “Lenny, God, please help me. I can’t go home. Take me with you. Please. I’m begging you.” She threw her arms around me and whimpered. 

 If the Feds discovered I was court ordered, and that my parents disowned me, I’d be… I had to go now! “OK, Madison. Let’s go.” On the way to the back door, we passed Edelstein’s office. I grabbed the keys off his desk and made it to the exit. Madison was sobbing, shaking, holding my hand for dear life.

An FBI agent stopped us. “Hey! Where are you going?”

“Taking my sister home, sir. I was visiting when all this came down, so we’re leaving.” There was a loud commotion behind us, and he ran down the hall.

The door of Edelstein’s Lexis opened to my touch. Madison struggled to fasten her seat belt. “OK, you’re safe. What’s so bad about going home?” I started the car, pulled out and headed toward the highway. Madison, sniffling, rifled through the glove box. “My father molested me from the time I was ten. I stopped eating, cut myself, my grades dropped. I started stealing. Let’s go to San Francisco.”

“Damn, Madison. That’s fucked up. Did you tell someone?”

“Hey. OHMYGOD! There are hundreds of dollars in his wallet. One, two, five… I never told anyone. My father’s a Superior Court Judge who goes fishing with the attorney general. If I said a word, he would have me committed and declared insane. He sent me here for an eating disorder.”

I glanced in the rear-view mirror. Sand and cactus. Madison was recounting the money when it hit me.

“Madison. You’re jailbait! And I’m taking you across a state line? I’m going to spend my life in prison. OH God, we are so fucked. I’M so fucked!” I broke into a sweat. And we were in a stolen car. Now what? I couldn’t just leave her in the middle of the desert. The green sign on the right with white letters, “California, 10 miles.”

She pocketed the money, took a cigarette from Edelstein’s pack, closed the glove box, and put her head on my shoulder. With the wisdom of a teenage female, she had the answers. “Stop a few feet before the state line and let me out. Take a video of me crossing the state line and waving to you from California. I crossed on my own. I’ll narrate it and post it on my socials.” 

“That won’t work, Madison. I brought you here. I’m guilty.”

“Nope.” She lit the cigarette with Edelstein’s gold lighter. “If one thing I learned from my dad, The Honorable Judge, is that technicalities win cases. I’ll be an emancipated minor and we’ll get married in San Francisco. My father will approve because it will keep me quiet. See?”

Aside from a few harrowing moments, like the police asking if that was our car illegally parked, and we replied we were just admiring it, it all worked out. We have an apartment in San Francisco. A photo of her behind the “Welcome To California” sign flipping the bird is on our living room wall, next to our marriage certificate. We sent a copy to her dad, who finances us, for now. Meanwhile, once I finish my undergrad work, I’m going for my law degree. Madison is attending school, happy, and cheerleading.

#

Alice sat next to her mom, enjoying the view from 10,000 feet, munching on a cheeseburger and fries. “Mom, my spiders are gone! After I walked into the wall and got a concussion, it must have jarred my brain. All I know is the spiders are gone.” 

Her mom smiled, sipped her martini. “All you needed was a hit on the head!” They both laughed. The attendant refilled Alice’s soda. “When we received your email containing the photos, videos, and recordings of Marfield and Edelstein, their threats, all of that, your dad scheduled the flight immediately and called a senator in Arizona, who arranged for the FBI raid. The overhead monitor flashed:

“CNN Breaking News”

The camera showed uniformed FBI agents surrounding Edelstein, Marfield, and Suit. In the background were police cars, media trucks, and adults escorting kids out of the facility. The narrator spoke:

“In a surprise raid, FBI agents arrested the staff of Edelstein Academy on charges of kidnapping, fraud, medical abuse, malpractice, and neglect. They’ll be held in Federal custody. Other charges are pending. More on this later.” 

“It’s not paranoia when you’re in handcuffs,” Alice shouted at the screen. “Take some Haldol, bitch! Maybe ECT to go with your new friend Butch!”

“Those people will never see the light of day, Alice. We’re very proud of how smart and brave you were to put all this together.”

Alice fastened her seat belt. She looked forward to her senior year in high school and having a boyfriend she could kiss without smacking spiders on his head.

---