Читать книгу Finding Stevie: A teenager in crisis - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 16

The morning was free, so I suggested to Stevie we went into town shopping and had some lunch out. I had to get a few things and I didn’t want to leave him alone in the house just yet. Also, I find that a trip out, whether it is shopping or visiting a place of interest, is a good way of bonding with a young person. Stevie liked the idea of shopping and I gave him his clothing allowance for the month, credit for his phone and his pocket money. I also asked him not to wear make-up, as we would go straight to the meeting with his mentor, Carolyn, at school once we’d finished shopping. He accepted my wishes about make-up as easily as he had accepted Lucy’s. I thought now as I had then that what he needed was guidance on matters associated with gender identity, rather than someone ignoring or dismissing them – as Fred was doing.

I parked in the multi-storey car park in the shopping centre and went with Stevie to the stores he liked. Once we had his clothes from home I would have a better idea of what he needed and could advise him on what to buy, otherwise teenagers often end up with a wardrobe full of jeans and no socks or winter coat. But for now I let him spend his money as he wished, and within half an hour he’d spent most of his clothing allowance on a pair of light grey jeans he said he’d been wanting for ages. They were tasteful and fitted him well. Most clothes would. Tall and slender, he had a model’s physique and I saw young people – male and female – glance at him admiringly as they passed.

While we shopped we talked, and I learnt that his gran used to buy his clothes – what she and Fred thought he should wear – but it had obviously caused arguments, so for the last year he’d been buying what he wanted, and then the arguments had taken place when he’d worn the clothes and they’d seen them for the first time. He also told me he had been given clothes for Christmas and birthday presents, but he’d chosen them. He liked his clothes and he liked to shop. I learnt that he had two good friends at school, a lad of the same age who thought he might be gay, and a girl in his class whom he said was just a friend but was kind and understanding. Most of the other lads in his class had little to do with him, he said, and some teased and bullied him. I reassured him that we’d address that when we saw Carolyn later, and I suggested he might like to invite his friends home for dinner one time. He’d said he’d think about it. He wasn’t sure he’d tell them he was in care, which is true for many children and young people. They prefer to say the person waiting for them in the playground is a friend of their mother’s or an aunty, rather than admit it’s their foster carer. Although of course at Stevie’s age he wouldn’t even have to say that, as I wouldn’t be in the playground at the start and end of school as I was with younger children.

Stevie only checked his phone a couple of times while we were shopping, but once we sat down with our lunch, chosen from a hot buffet, he suddenly cried, ‘Shit!’ And pulled his phone from his pocket as if his life depended on it.

‘Is everything all right?’ I asked him a few moments later, as, food untouched, he was still staring at the screen.

He nodded absently.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’ But I wasn’t convinced, and it crossed my mind that perhaps he was being bullied online too. There was a time when bullying stopped at the school gates, but now it can follow the victim home through text messages, social networking websites, photos and video clips. It’s vicious, insidious, relentless and has in extreme cases caused a young person to commit suicide. Also, I remembered Verity had mentioned that Stevie might be in contact with his mother online and I wondered if this was causing a problem.

‘Are you on Facebook?’ I asked him casually as he finally picked up a chip and began eating.

‘Yes.’

‘So am I. I could send you a friendship request.’ If he accepted it then I should be able to see quite a lot of his online activity on that website and who he was in contact with. It’s for this reason it’s a good idea for parents and foster carers to have social networking accounts; it allows them to keep an eye on their young person as well as keeping them up to speed with technology. A friend of mine only discovered that her daughter had traced her father (my friend’s long-time ex) through social media. She was then able to broach the subject with her daughter and reassure her that she didn’t mind. Adrian, Lucy and Paula had Facebook accounts, although only Lucy used hers regularly.

Stevie hadn’t responded to my suggestion, but I’d send the friendship request anyway. He could accept or decline it, it was his choice.

‘Do you chat to your parents at all online?’ I asked. Many young people do without their carer’s or guardian’s knowledge.

‘Sometimes Mum, when she’s not in prison. They don’t have the internet in prison.’

So I guessed that wasn’t the reason he was often anxiously checking his phone.

‘The kids at school who bully you, do they target you online? Or message you at all?’ I asked outright. It was no good hedging the matter and then regretting it later.

‘No. They haven’t got my phone number,’ he said. ‘Only my friends have.’

‘Good.’

It was the school’s lunch break when Stevie and I arrived and there were students milling around outside, some standing in small groups, others sitting on benches, coats on and huddled over phones as they ate from lunch boxes and packets of crisps.

‘What’s the school’s policy on mobile phones?’ I asked Stevie as we made our way to the main entrance.

‘They have to be switched off while on school premises,’ he replied.

‘Is yours off?’

‘I’ll turn it off now.’

We went to the reception desk, separated from the school office by a low counter, and the secretary recognised Stevie and knew we were expected. ‘I’ll give Carolyn a ring and let her know you’re here,’ she said. ‘Please sign in the visitors’ book and then take a seat.’

I thanked her and, having signed in, we sat in the chairs arranged on the far side of the reception area, and Stevie powered off his phone. I looked around. The walls were adorned with framed photographs of school achievements – winning sports teams, successful examination results, students who’d become distinguished in a particular field, dignitaries and famous people who’d visited the school, and so on, much as you’d find in many secondary schools.

Stevie was clearly anxious and, with no phone to occupy him, was tapping his foot nervously.

‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ I told him. ‘You know Carolyn, and she and I want to help you get back into school.’

He gave a curt nod, but his foot kept tapping. I felt as though we were waiting to see the dentist rather than his mentor.

‘There she is,’ he said as a young woman entered reception.

We both stood. ‘Hello, Stevie,’ Carolyn said, then, ‘Nice to meet you, Cathy.’

‘And you,’ I replied. Carolyn was fashionably dressed in black leggings and a long, baggy top. In her mid to late twenties, she didn’t look much older than Stevie or many of the other senior pupils.

‘I have a small office at the top of the building,’ she said brightly. ‘This way.’

We followed her out of reception and up two flights of stairs, passing students coming down. None of them seemed to know Stevie. ‘My classroom is at the other end of the building,’ he told me, so I guessed that’s where most of his classmates gathered.

Carolyn showed us into her office, just big enough to hold a small desk, a filing cabinet and three steel-framed chairs. She pulled her chair out from behind the desk, so we sat in a small circle.

‘This is where I see students if they want to talk in private,’ she explained to me. ‘Some of my job is counselling, and I spend time in the classroom supporting those who need extra help.’

‘Thank you for seeing us at such short notice,’ I said. ‘Do you have my contact details?’ She didn’t. I gave them to her and she said she’d advise the secretary, so she could update the school’s records.

‘So, Stevie,’ she said, smiling reassuringly at him, ‘a lot of change for you. How do you like it at Cathy’s?’

‘It’s all right,’ he said with a shrug. You could hardly expect him to be jumping for joy given he’d had to leave home the day before.

‘It must be strange,’ Carolyn commiserated. ‘Are you seeing your grandparents and your brother and sister?’

‘Yes,’ Stevie replied tightly.

‘Good. You’re a bright student, but you have missed a lot of school. The last time I saw you, you told me you didn’t feel you fitted in and school seemed irrelevant. We talked about ways I could help you. How do you feel now about school?’

He shrugged.

‘There is another reason Stevie hasn’t been in school,’ I said. ‘Apparently he’s being bullied.’

‘Not all the time,’ he put in, embarrassed. ‘Just some days.’

‘You shouldn’t be bullied at all,’ I said.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Carolyn asked, concerned. ‘We talked about how you were getting on with other students. Didn’t you feel able to tell me?’

He shrugged again and looked uncomfortable.

‘Is it one person who’s doing the bullying or a group?’ Carolyn asked.

‘One mainly, and the others follow.’

‘What have they been doing?’ she asked, leaning in to invite confidence. ‘Can you tell me? You know we have a firm anti-bullying policy here in school.’

My heart went out to him, he looked so self-conscious. ‘They call me names and push me in the corridor,’ he admitted. ‘Sometimes they put things in my bag and follow me into the toilet, that type of stuff.’ I guessed this was probably only part of it – the bit he felt able to tell.

‘What is the name of the ringleader?’ Carolyn asked.

‘What will you do?’ Stevie replied, clearly worried about reprisals.

‘The headmaster and I will talk to the person and make it clear his or her behaviour is unacceptable and if it doesn’t stop they will be suspended.’

‘It’s —,’ he said, and gave a boy’s name.

‘I know who you mean,’ Carolyn said seriously. ‘We’ll speak to him this afternoon so you can return to school tomorrow morning. But in future, Stevie, please come and see me if you have any problems.’

He gave a half-hearted nod, and Carolyn then went on to talk about his school work. He was behind in most subjects, partly from missing school, but also because he hadn’t been handing in his homework.

‘I haven’t got anywhere quiet to study at my gran’s,’ he said, which may have been true.

‘That won’t be a problem now,’ I said. ‘You have your own bedroom, which has bookshelves and a small table for studying. Also, I showed you the front room you can use, which has a computer.’ So there won’t be any excuses, I could have added but didn’t.

Carolyn told Stevie – I guessed not for the first time – that it was an important year for him academically, as they had started the syllabi for examinations the following year. Stevie promised to do better in future, and Carolyn then talked easily and at length about gender identity. She said that schools were having to address how best to accommodate LGBT+ – lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and other – students. In line with other schools they were considering installing gender-neutral toilets and changing rooms for PE. She said there was no provision for this at present and asked Stevie if he had any particular concerns about using the boys’ toilets and changing rooms. If so, she’d look into what other arrangements could be made.

‘No, I’m OK with that,’ he said, a little embarrassed.

Carolyn added that at present Stevie would be expected to wear the boys’ school uniform, which wasn’t so different from the girls’ (although they had a choice of trousers or a skirt), but that could change in the future.

I thought that the school was being very sensitive and proactive in addressing the issues surrounding LGBT+ students. To be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought until Stevie had been placed with me.

Carolyn finished by asking Stevie if there was anything else he wanted to discuss or that she could help him with, and he said there wasn’t.

‘See you tomorrow in school then,’ she said positively as we stood.

I thanked her again, and she saw us down to reception where we signed out.

As soon as we were outside Stevie took his phone from his pocket, and it instantly sprang into life.

‘That wasn’t switched off,’ I said. ‘It was on silent.’

‘I’ll switch it off properly when I’m in school.’

‘You must. Don’t start tomorrow by breaking one of the rules,’ I said. He shrugged. ‘Anyway, it will be a nice short week. Friday tomorrow and then the weekend.’

‘Yes, and I can go out.’

‘If you want to.’

Stevie was quiet in the car as I drove to his grandparents’. He checked his phone every so often, but otherwise just stared out of his side window. I sensed he was worrying about something, but it could have been any number of things: returning to school, facing his grandparents, wishing he was still living with them and hadn’t stormed off, or something completely different. The teenage years are difficult with all the changes in the body and mind; problems that might not affect adults can play havoc with a young person.

‘A penny for your thoughts,’ I said, glancing at him as I drove. He looked at me, puzzled. ‘It’s an expression my father used to use,’ I explained. ‘It means you seem deep in thought.’

‘Oh, right, yeah,’ he said, but that was all.

A few moments later I said, ‘Stevie, I know I’ve told you this before, but you can talk to me if there is something bothering you. It’s not a good idea to keep worries to yourself. If you’ve got a problem, I’m sure we can sort it out.’

He threw me a cursory nod and continued to gaze through his side window.

Five minutes later I pulled in to the housing estate where his grandparents lived and Stevie directed me to their house. It was a 1960s semi-detached with an integral garage and small open-plan front garden similar to the other houses in the street.

‘I’ve forgotten my keys,’ Stevie said as we got out.

‘It doesn’t matter. Your gran will be in. She’s expecting us.’

We went up to their front door and he pressed the doorbell. The door was opened by his grandfather with a rather gruff, ‘Oh, it’s you. Come in, but don’t make a noise. Your gran isn’t so good.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, hesitating on the doorstep. ‘Shall we come back another time?’

‘No, you’re here now. He can get his clothes.’

Stevie went past him and disappeared upstairs as Fred closed the front door.

‘I’m here,’ Peggy said, appearing in the hall. ‘I’ve just got a migraine. It came on all of a sudden. I’ve taken some tablets. Come through while Steven gets his things.’

I went with Peggy into their sitting room as Fred went upstairs. The room was at the back of the house and cosy with floral carpet and curtains, three armchairs and lots of china ornaments on display shelves. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ Peggy asked, sinking into a chair.

‘No, thank you. I’m fine.’ She looked pale and drawn. While I’ve never suffered from migraine headaches, I have a friend who does and I appreciated what sufferers go through. When migraines strike they are debilitating until the medication takes effect. ‘We’ve just come from seeing Carolyn,’ I said. ‘Steven’s going to school tomorrow.’

‘Good. What did Carolyn say?’

I told Peggy more or less what we’d discussed with Carolyn, leaving out Stevie’s excuse of not having anywhere quiet to study as the reason he hadn’t been doing his homework. She didn’t need to know that with a headache.

‘I didn’t realise the bullying was that bad,’ she said wearily.

‘No. In my experience teenagers try to deal with it themselves first. It slipped out when he was talking to my children.’

Peggy nodded thoughtfully and her face clouded. ‘You know, Cathy, I feel so bad about him going into care.’ Her eyes filled.

‘Don’t upset yourself,’ I said, touching her arm. ‘I’m sure you did the right thing. It will give you all a chance to have a breather, and you’ll be seeing him regularly.’

She took a tissue from the sleeve of her cardigan and dabbed her eyes. My heart went out to her. She looked defeated – as if she’d tried her best and failed. ‘I would have him back now and make it work,’ she said. ‘It’s Fred. He’s told Steven he needs to sort himself out first. You know, all that stuff about if he’s a girl or a boy. I can’t stand any more arguments, not with looking after the younger two as well. I’m worn out.’

‘I think you’ve done a fantastic job,’ I said. ‘I really do. Three young children is a lot to cope with.’ I hope I didn’t sound patronising, but I meant it.

‘Fred thinks Steven is doing this on purpose to wind us up and get attention.’

This was difficult. ‘I think Stevie is confused about his gender identity,’ I said carefully. ‘I know it’s difficult for us to understand; we’ve never been in that position. But I think he is genuinely struggling to sort out how he sees himself.’

‘Do you?’ she asked. ‘You never heard of that sort of thing when I was young. You were either male or female. Some people were homosexual, but they knew that. There was never any of this “I might be a girl or I might be a boy or maybe I’m both”.’ She looked sad, confused and out of her depth. ‘Is it something I’ve done wrong?’

‘No, Peggy, of course not. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve done a good job of bringing him up. He’s a nice lad. You can be proud of him.’

‘He should be living here with me,’ she said mournfully. ‘Not with a foster carer. I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s how I feel.’ She’d obviously been thinking about this a lot.

‘I understand,’ I said. ‘Try to look upon it as me helping you out for now. We all need help sometimes, don’t we?’ I was about to say more when Fred came in.

‘Is he wearing your knickers yet?’ he quipped, sitting in the largest armchair, which I took to be his.

He was joking, but it was an entirely inappropriate comment. I thought it was probably his way of coping with a situation he didn’t understand and perhaps found embarrassing. Maybe he felt his masculinity was under threat, or maybe he recognised something in Stevie he didn’t want to acknowledge in himself. Who knows? But making Stevie the butt of his jokes wasn’t going to help – quite the opposite. Since I’d first been told I would be fostering Stevie, I’d researched gender online and I’d come to realise that it isn’t always clear cut, but a spectrum, with male and female either end and degrees of gender in between. Fred needed to be more aware, to stop teasing his grandson and help him if there was any chance of healing their damaged relationship. I thought Fred was a man who would appreciate straight talking.

‘Fred, do you ever use the internet?’ I asked him.

‘What would I want with that?’ he scorned.

‘There’s a lot of information on the internet, like all the books, newspapers and magazines in the world put together. I go online if I need to know something. Have a look on the internet for the term “gender-fluid”. I think you may be surprised by what you find. There are other families facing the same issues you are, and online support groups have been set up. The library has computers you can use for free.’

‘You mean there’s others like him!’ he jeered.

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you, Cathy,’ Peggy said quietly. ‘I’ve seen the computers in the library, but I don’t know how to use them.’

‘An assistant should be able to show you,’ I said. ‘Otherwise give me a ring and I’ll meet you there. Once you know how to use the internet, it’s easy.’

She managed a small smile and tucked away her tissue. ‘Steven is going to school tomorrow,’ she told Fred positively.

‘About bloody time too!’ he snapped. I was sure Fred loved Stevie as he did Liam and Kiri, but he could be abrupt and scathing, which children don’t need. It undermines their self-confidence if they’re put down when they speak. It’s not good for adults either.

Peggy changed the conversation and began talking about the weather, and we continued making polite conversation until Stevie appeared at the door carrying bin liners full of his belongings. ‘I’m ready to go,’ he said, apparently not wanting to come into the living room and spend time with his grandparents.

Peggy and I stood, I said goodbye to Fred and Peggy saw us to the front door. ‘Bye, Gran,’ Stevie said, kissing her cheek. ‘See you soon.’

‘Yes, you take care.’ Her eyes filled again.