"You know you were passed over for adoption when you were younger, and you know your mother abandoned you. A long time ago, you decided that the reason your birth parents didn't keep you and adoptive parents didn't want to adopt you was because they all realized you were going to turn out to be 'no good' and because you weren't smart enough or pretty enough. And so you cut your hair like a boy's, refuse to wear girls' clothes, and steal things, but you still don't feel any happier. Nothing you do seems to matter, and that's the real problem: No matter what you do—unless you get into trouble—it doesn't matter to anyone, and you hate yourself because you want to matter."
Dr. Wilmer paused to let the last part of that sink in and then she thrust harder. "You want to matter to someone, Julie. If you had only one wish, that would be your wish."
Julie felt her eyes sting with humiliating tears as Dr. Wilmer's relentless verbal thrusts found their mark, and she blinked to hold them back.
Her rapid blinking and damp eyes weren't lost on Terry Wilmer, who saw Julie's tears as what they were—confirmation that she'd hit raw nerves. Softening her voice, Dr. Wilmer continued, "You hate hoping and dreaming, but you can't seem to stop, so you make up wonderful stories and tell them to the little kids at LaSalle—stories about lonely, ugly children who find families and love and happiness someday."
"You've got everything all wrong!" Julie protested hotly, flushing to the roots of her hair. "You're making me sound like some—some wimpy sissy. I don't need anybody to love me and neither do the kids at LaSalle. I don't need it, and I don't want it! I'm happy—"
"That's not true. We're going to tell each other the complete truth today, and I haven't quite finished." Holding the child's gaze, she stated with quiet force: "The truth is this, Julie: During the time you've spent in this testing program, we've discovered that you're a brave, wonderful, and very smart little girl." She smiled at Julie's stunned, dubious expression and continued, "The only reason you haven't learned to read and write yet is because you missed so much school when you were ill that you couldn't catch up later on. That has nothing to do with your ability to learn, which is what you call being 'smart' and we call 'intelligence.' All you need in order to catch up with your school work is for someone to give you a helping hand for awhile. Now, besides being smart," she continued, changing the subject slightly, "you also have a perfectly normal, natural need to be loved for what you are. You're very sensitive, and that's why your feelings get hurt easily. It's also why you don't like to see other children's feelings get hurt and why you try so hard to make them happy by telling them stories and stealing things for them. I know you hate being sensitive, but believe me, it's one of your most precious traits. Now, all we have to do is put you in an environment that will help you become the sort of young woman you can be someday…"
Julie paled, thinking the unfamiliar word environment sounded like an institution, like, maybe, jail.
"I know just the foster parents for you—James and Mary Mathison. Mrs. Mathison used to be a teacher, and she's eager to help you catch up with your schoolwork. Reverend Mathison is a minister—"
Julie shot out of her chair as if her backside had been scorched. "A preacher!" she burst out, shaking her head, recalling loud lectures about hellfire and damnation she'd heard often enough in church. "No, thanks, I'd rather go to the slammer."
"You've never been in the slammer, so you don't know what you're talking about," Dr. Wilmer stated, then she continued talking about the next foster home as if Julie had no choice in the matter, which of course Julie realized she didn't. "James and Mary Mathison moved to a small Texas town several years ago. They have two sons who are five and three years older than you, and unlike the other foster homes you've been in, there won't be any other foster children there. You'll be part of a real family, Julie. You'll even have a room of your very own, and those are both firsts for you, I know. I've talked with James and Mary about you, and they're very anxious to have you with them."
"For how long?" Julie asked, trying not to get excited at what was probably only a temporary thing that wouldn't work out anyway.
"Forever, assuming you like it there and that you're willing to follow one strict rule they have for themselves and their children: honesty. That means no more stealing, no more lying, and no more cutting school. All you have to do is be honest with them. They believe you'll do that, and they're very, very anxious to have you be part of their family. Mrs. Mathison called me a few minutes ago, and she was already on her way to go shopping for some games and things to help you learn to read as quickly as possible. She's waiting for you to go with her and pick out things for your bedroom, so it will be just the way you like it."
Squelching her flare of delight, Julie said, "They don't know that I've been busted, do they? I mean, for truancy?"
"Truancy," Dr. Wilmer said pointedly, stating the horrible truth, "and attempted grand theft, auto. Yes, they know everything."
"And they still want me to live with them?" Julie countered with cutting derision. "They must really need the money Family Services pays to foster parents."
"Money has nothing to do with their decision!" Dr. Wilmer shot back, the sternness of her voice offset by a faint smile. "They are a very special family. They aren't rich in money, but they feel that they are rich in other ways—with other kinds of blessings, and they want to share some of those blessings with a deserving child."
"And they think I'm deserving?" Julie scoffed. "Nobody wanted me before I had a police record. Why would anybody want me now?"
Ignoring her rhetorical question, Dr. Wilmer stood up and walked around her desk. "Julie," she said gently, waiting until Julie reluctantly raised her eyes, "I think you are the most deserving child I've ever had the privilege of meeting." The unprecedented, glowing compliment was followed by one of the few physical gestures of affection Julie had ever known: Dr. Wilmer laid her hand alongside Julie's cheek as she said, "I don't know how you've stayed as sweet and special as you are, but believe me, you deserve all the help I can give you and all the love that I think you're going to find with the Mathisons."
Julie shrugged, trying to steel herself against inevitable disappointment, but as she stood up, she couldn't quite douse the flare of hope in her heart. "Don't count on that, Dr. Wilmer."