The Doctor is....In? <Cameron/Dr Neville>

[Cameron Tyler]

Cameron strolled into the school office area, comparing the names on the glazed glass of the doors to the slip in her hand. She had been told she had to have some kind of entry evaluation with this Doctor Neville. Supposedly she needed to get approval to mix with the rest of the students here. In other words, she sighed inwardly, if she wanted to escape solitary freak confinement and mix with the general population. 

Still, this place was already an improvement over her last school. Everyone here was weird, and she was fine with not getting the glares and whispers from her supposed peers. One guy had even smiled at her before turning into some kind of aquatic creature. On a scale of boring to apocalyptic, that certainly had pegged the weird-o-meter into the red. But she would take strange over dull any day of the week.

She finally found the right glazed glass door. She took a deep breath to cool her jets. She had to be calm and collected, or maybe this guy would shoot her in the neck with a trank dart and she'd wake up chained up in a Freak Show in Jupiter, Florida. In other words, just another Tuesday.

The petite brunette smoothed out her black Halestorm t shirt. She checked her breath in the palm of her hand. It smelled minty enough after half a bottle of mouth wash. She paused for a long moment before knocking on the door.

Remember what Grandma said, Cam thought, always do your best to make a good first impression. Even when you don't feel like it.


After a couple of quiet raps on the glass, Cam stuck her head inside, a friendly smile on her face.

"Hi, I'm Cam Tyler....I'm not late, am? I don't feel tardy."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean kept tabs on most of the students, even if he did not meet with them individually. As the Hammel psychiatrist, he had access to all of the student records, from the graduating seniors who had been here since manifesting at the age of eleven through the newest arrival who had only manifested two days before. Part of his job was to read through the student files when they were transferred, to assess whom he thought would benefit from personal evaluation. Some students displayed diagnostic symptoms. Some students had already been in the mental health system. Some students had backgrounds that indicated they would have difficulty adjusting. Some students had psychic powers that the psychiatrist wanted to monitor for kinship reasons.

Cameron Tyler’s ability was the opposite of a psychic power. However, her records contained enough information that Sean thought she would benefit from an initial check-in appointment. They could talk and establish a connection, and, afterward, he would determine if she they should set up a meeting schedule.

When she arrived, he turned to face her, and he returned the smile. “Hello, Cam. You’re on time. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable, but shut the door behind you.”

That would grant them privacy.

His office contained two chairs in front of his desk on the side nearest to the door. On the opposite side of the room was the sofa and the two armchairs. “You may sit anywhere you’d like.” He would move to accommodate her.

[Cameron Tyler]

Cameron did as the good doctor asked, careful not to slam the door. Yeah, rattling or cracking the glass door of the man who could shoot you with a trank dart and send you off to parts unknown does not make the best impression. She turned to look at the offered choices of seating and paused.

Was this some test in itself? She could sit at the desk, clearly acknowledging his authority. Or she could take one of the plush chairs near the couch. The twin chairs would put them on a more equal footing. Would that be presumptuous on her part? He's an adult, she's a kid. He's clearly an important figure here, it's his name on the door. She's just off the bus.

Then there's the huge couch dominating one end of the room. She'd been in enough therapists offices to know you lie down and spill your guts. Of course, for her that lead to no positive results back home. The problem back home wasn't her. Her father was so distant he was in a different time zone. Her grandparents were present...barely. She just didn't fit into their world.

She ran her fingers back through her hair as she contemplated. She was caught in a loop, like the Sicilian in The Princess Bride. Just choose, Cameron Lee!

She sat down in the corner of the couch and crossed her legs. Her soft ankle boot bobbed nervously over the floor. She finally had a moment to look at the doctor. He was kinda handsome in a rough manner, his face full of angles. Still, she found him interesting. And he was so tall! Tall is good.

"How's your day been, Doctor Neville?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean could do none of those things. He had no tranquilizer darts in this office, and no delivery system; nor had he ever shot someone with a dart in his life. He also had no means of banishing students elsewhere, since that was not how Hammel operated. Hammel’s control extended to bringing students to Hammel’s physical location and keeping them until graduation. It gave them authority to find students and track them if they left, but it did not give them the ability to send them elsewhere. Certainly not to CIA black sites; in fact, the school existed in order to prevent such treatment of meta-human youth.

Still, he understood Cameron’s nervousness.

When she chose the sofa, the psychiatrist picked up his pen and pad and then rose from behind his desk. He crossed the room with his long stride, before settling down in one of the armchairs nearby the sofa. This way, they need not speak from across the office.

“My day has been fine,” he told her with a smile, ignoring the thought about his appearance. It might be flattering if she was not over forty years his junior and a minor. But he would not call attention to any of that. “The weather is so nice I might take lunch outside. And how are you today?”

[Cameron Tyler]

Cameron mulled this question over for a good three seconds before offering an overly chipper...

"Great so far..."

She noticed her nervously bopping foot and willed it to stop. She took a breath to calm herself before trying to continue in a more normal tone. 

"I like it here, at Hammel, I mean. I've never felt at home anywhere, not in my grandparents' place or at the schools I attended. I know....I'm a bit of a freak, even before I started melting into chrome jello at the drop of a hat."

Her expression turned wistful as she studied the view outside the window, just to focus something else than the kind doctor's face.

"Everyone wants to find a place to belong, even if they deny it to their dying breath."
Her life had been filled with challenges, and she didn't feel as if she had really done well trying to meet them. She didn't want to be the sad little girl sitting off all alone any more. But once you're pigeonholed in any society or culture, that was it for you. There was little hope of breaking free of that role.

"I've been trying different things since I came here, you know, just to see what works and what doesn't. I don't want to just be the so-called 'problem child'. I'm making friends now...which is nice. Refreshing, even." 

She laughed at herself for a moment. 
"I even saw a poster advertising for cheerleaders. Can you see me doing that? Half mopey goth, half perky cheerleader--all terror. We're see if anyone else shows up to even try out. If not, I'll be the Cheerleader Squad."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean understood the sense of isolation; he had experienced it himself, and it was so pervasive across all segments of society, but particularly among teenagers. However, there was one aspect that he had to cut in, because he loathed a word and tried to rob it of its power. “You aren’t a freak, but I know what you mean.” He did not want that word used in his office, or at all, not directed at other people or internalized to describe oneself. “Finding your place can be hard.”

He agreed with her next assessment and nodded to communicate that. For the vast majority of the population, finding one’s place was a drive much like success or meeting basic needs. Not for everyone but for most people such that it could be generalized.

“I think that’s a good strategy,” the psychiatrist remarked. Being in a new school provided a new environment and the chance to reinvent oneself, particularly if one manifested during high school age rather than during sixth grade, as some of the younger students had. Even if it took a couple of years, there was value in trying to find one’s place.

Sean himself had not hit his stride until after he graduated from Hammel, but he had still found opportunities.

He smiled a bit at the joke; her description certainly defied stereotypes. Then again, since Hammel did not have inter-school sports, cheerleading (and playing sports) were done for fun rather than for social status or to avoid school work. It took some of the pressure off, he thought. “The advisor for the cheerleading squad is very nice, so I think you’d get along well with her.” Most of the students did.