Foxworth?”
“No,” Emily said.
“Your parents had not brought you to the center?”
“No,” Emily quickly repeated, thankful that she could answer truthfully.
His voice was low. “You said her portrait looked familiar, yet you have no early memories of Dr. Foxworth?”
Emily couldn’t answer. She attempted to shrug, but it ended in another shiver.
“That thermostat definitely needs adjusting,” Dr. Isaacson said. Emily heard him get to his feet and peeked out from under her hair to watch him do something with the thermostat, then return to his chair.
Squeezing her hands together tightly, Emily asked, “Why are you asking me about Dr. Foxworth?”
Dr. Isaacson’s eyes widened in surprise. “I was trying to put you at ease through friendly conversation before I got to the point of your visit.” He paused before he continued. “We try to help our students reach their individual potential, so we stress individuality. In your case we hope to help you see that there is no need for you to feel you must match the individual talents of your older sisters. You can learn to discover your own talents and expand your own horizons.”
He seemed to be waiting for a response, so Emily nodded, although she wondered why so many teachers, and now Dr. Isaacson, had come to the conclusion that she felt she had to match what Angela and Monica had done. She loved her sisters. She was proud of them. But shedidn’t want to be like them. She couldn’t be. The idea of being noticed, of being on a stage—the center of attention—that was what she hated and avoided.
Dr. Isaacson said, “Taylor Farris apparently had her hair bleached and curled to match your hairstyle. Was there a reason for this?”
“No!” Emily raised her head defensively, trying to sit taller, and brushed her hair back from her face.
“Had you planned this project together?”
“No, sir,” Emily answered. “She surprised me.”
“Did she tell you why she made an attempt to look like you?”
“She liked my hair.”
He frowned a little, as if the answer didn’t satisfy him, so Emily tried to think of an answer that would. “Taylor told me she likes the way my hair falls around my face.”
“And you can hide behind it.”
“Yes. Oh. I mean …” Emily stopped. She felt herself blushing.
“You’re aware that you use your hair like a shield against the world?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. Isaacson smiled. “Good,” he said. “Being aware of your reason for doing something you wish to change is the first step toward making that change. You’re a bright girl, Emily, and while you’re here at Camp Excel we’ll help you discover abilities and talents you didn’t realize you had.”
He paused, but when she didn’t answer, he asked, “Where do you think you can excel, Emily?”
Startled, Emily blurted out, “Why do I have to excel? Why can’t I just be me?”
“You have a good mind. You have potential and theability to excel, once you believe in yourself and find the direction you need to take. Will you let us help you?”
“Yes,” Emily said. She had no choice but to give him the answer he obviously wanted.
“Do come to any of the staff if you have a problem or a question, and you’ll have our undivided attention. Many of our teachers, such as Dr. Hampton and Dr. Anderson, were with our educational center when it opened and helped develop our unique and highly successful approach to learning.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, recognizing that the discussion was over.
“And please remember to eat properly,” he said. “We want you to feel well. No more fainting spells.”
He stood, smiling, and Emily obediently got to her feet.
She left his office quickly, feeling eyes staring at her back. Were they Dr. Isaacson’s eyes or the glazed eyes in Dr. Amelia Foxworth’s portrait? Why had Dr. Isaacson questioned her about remembering Dr. Foxworth? What did he and the rest of his staff, who obviously shared everything they
“No,” Emily said.
“Your parents had not brought you to the center?”
“No,” Emily quickly repeated, thankful that she could answer truthfully.
His voice was low. “You said her portrait looked familiar, yet you have no early memories of Dr. Foxworth?”
Emily couldn’t answer. She attempted to shrug, but it ended in another shiver.
“That thermostat definitely needs adjusting,” Dr. Isaacson said. Emily heard him get to his feet and peeked out from under her hair to watch him do something with the thermostat, then return to his chair.
Squeezing her hands together tightly, Emily asked, “Why are you asking me about Dr. Foxworth?”
Dr. Isaacson’s eyes widened in surprise. “I was trying to put you at ease through friendly conversation before I got to the point of your visit.” He paused before he continued. “We try to help our students reach their individual potential, so we stress individuality. In your case we hope to help you see that there is no need for you to feel you must match the individual talents of your older sisters. You can learn to discover your own talents and expand your own horizons.”
He seemed to be waiting for a response, so Emily nodded, although she wondered why so many teachers, and now Dr. Isaacson, had come to the conclusion that she felt she had to match what Angela and Monica had done. She loved her sisters. She was proud of them. But shedidn’t want to be like them. She couldn’t be. The idea of being noticed, of being on a stage—the center of attention—that was what she hated and avoided.
Dr. Isaacson said, “Taylor Farris apparently had her hair bleached and curled to match your hairstyle. Was there a reason for this?”
“No!” Emily raised her head defensively, trying to sit taller, and brushed her hair back from her face.
“Had you planned this project together?”
“No, sir,” Emily answered. “She surprised me.”
“Did she tell you why she made an attempt to look like you?”
“She liked my hair.”
He frowned a little, as if the answer didn’t satisfy him, so Emily tried to think of an answer that would. “Taylor told me she likes the way my hair falls around my face.”
“And you can hide behind it.”
“Yes. Oh. I mean …” Emily stopped. She felt herself blushing.
“You’re aware that you use your hair like a shield against the world?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. Isaacson smiled. “Good,” he said. “Being aware of your reason for doing something you wish to change is the first step toward making that change. You’re a bright girl, Emily, and while you’re here at Camp Excel we’ll help you discover abilities and talents you didn’t realize you had.”
He paused, but when she didn’t answer, he asked, “Where do you think you can excel, Emily?”
Startled, Emily blurted out, “Why do I have to excel? Why can’t I just be me?”
“You have a good mind. You have potential and theability to excel, once you believe in yourself and find the direction you need to take. Will you let us help you?”
“Yes,” Emily said. She had no choice but to give him the answer he obviously wanted.
“Do come to any of the staff if you have a problem or a question, and you’ll have our undivided attention. Many of our teachers, such as Dr. Hampton and Dr. Anderson, were with our educational center when it opened and helped develop our unique and highly successful approach to learning.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, recognizing that the discussion was over.
“And please remember to eat properly,” he said. “We want you to feel well. No more fainting spells.”
He stood, smiling, and Emily obediently got to her feet.
She left his office quickly, feeling eyes staring at her back. Were they Dr. Isaacson’s eyes or the glazed eyes in Dr. Amelia Foxworth’s portrait? Why had Dr. Isaacson questioned her about remembering Dr. Foxworth? What did he and the rest of his staff, who obviously shared everything they
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