Read Between the Sheets for Free Online Page A

and we put him in a cage and bark and snarl at him?”
    “It’s a violent picture that even if not true needs to be discussed.” Shelby was getting up on some kind of high horse. Her back going even straighter, her full lips going thin and flat.
    Discussed. Right . He rubbed his forehead. They’d been discussing this for months; every time Casey drew one of these pictures in counseling or group therapy, it had to get discussed.
    “I don’t put him in a cage,” he said. “And his mom … his mom isn’t around right now. He does this kind of shit. Sorry— stuff . All the time. It’s either him in a cage, or him sleeping outside because I locked him out, or me forcing him to eat dog food.” Shelby and Mr. Root stared at him with open mouths. “Here. Watch.”
    Ty opened the door and gave Casey a hard look. “You want to come in here and talk to these people?”
    Casey stood, his white tee shirt hanging down to his knees. Ty shut the door behind them and crossed his arms over his chest. Casey studied the floor.
    “Casey.” The one word had enough warning in it that Casey took notice.
    “I made it up,” he finally said. “He doesn’t lock me in a cage or make me eat dog food or anything like that.”
    “Why did you draw the picture?” Shelby asked.
    Casey shrugged. Oh, God, those fucking shrugs . Ty put a heavy hand on Casey’s shoulder, a cut-the-crap gesture. Casey twitched away and sighed. “Because it was a stupid assignment. Because I’m bored. Because … I don’t know. It’s more fun than my real life?”
    “Getting locked up in a cage is more fun than your real life?” Mr. Root asked.
    “No,” Casey muttered.
    “But getting me pulled out of work is,” Ty said, staring hard at his kid. “Being the badass kid sent to the principal’s office on, what … the second week at a new school?… is more fun than actually sitting in class, right?”
    Casey sent him a fleeting smile and Ty wanted to pull out his hair. I know my kid , he thought. I was this kid, with the attitude and the smile and the stupid need to be noticed. To be bad. Because the places we’re from and the people who raised us put more stock in being bad than being smart. It’s better to be tough than to fit in .
    And Ty was trying—with both goddamn hands, with all his strength—to change that.
    “This isn’t funny, Casey,” he said.
    “Casey,” Mr. Root said, “can you please wait outside?”
    Casey shuffled out and Ty shut the door behind him, fighting the urge to slam it.
    “Clearly we’re dealing with a behavior disorder,” Mr. Root said.
    Ty whirled away from the door. “Wait … what? Behavior disorder?”
    “This isn’t the first time he’s been in my office. It’s been once or twice a day every day.”
    “Why is this the first time I’ve heard of it?” he demanded.
    “Because a certain period of settling in is to be expected. And if your son isn’t telling you what’s happening, that, too, is part of the problem.” Mr. Root pulled open a drawer in his desk and pulled out a file an inch thick.
    “This is your son’s file from his school in Memphis. This behavior is nothing new. He was suspended three times last year for fighting, in the fourth grade. He was moved to two different foster homes—”
    “Because one of those homes had ten kids.” Ty’s skin, his blood, everything burned and itched because he knew what was in that file. He knew every detail of how Vanessa had screwed around with this boy’s life, and by not once being mentioned it was clear that he wasn’t around to try to stop it. “And he’s not there anymore. He’s with me. We moved here so he could have a fresh start.”
    Mr. Root crossed his hands over the file and sighed as if this were something he’d known all along. “That’s a laudable idea, Mr. Svenson. But for a true fresh start I think a psychologist should test him—”
    “He’s just a smart-ass kid,” Ty said, “going through some shit. Sorry.