The Truth About Stacey by Ann M. Martin Page B

“Then you won’t be too far behind when we return.”
    I nodded. “I think this is very unfair,” I said softly.
    My parents sighed in unison. “Well, we’re sorry, honey,” replied Mom. “But this is the way things are.”
    On Saturday afternoon, I baby-sat for Charlotte Johanssen. It was my first job in over a week. I knew that her parents were using the agency in the evenings because then they didn’t have to worry about being home early. I hadn’t seen Charlotte since the Big Brother Party. I brought the Kid-Kit with me as I had promised, and we began reading
The Cricket in Times Square.
    When the Johanssens came home, I waited until Dr. Johanssen had paid me before I finally asked, “Could I talk to you? Please?”
    â€œOf course, Stacey,” Charlotte’s mother replied. “Let’s go in the den.”
    We walked across the hall and Dr. Johanssen closed the door behind us. “What’s up? Are you feeling all right?” she asked.
    â€œThat’s just the trouble. I’m fine. But Mom and Dad want me to see another new doctor in New York. He’s going to do all these tests at his clinic. We have to go away for
five days.”
    Dr. Johanssen shook her head in sympathy.
    â€œHe’s a holistic doctor. Dad explained what that means.” I giggled. “I thought it meant he was holy—a faith healer.”
    Charlotte’s mother didn’t smile, though. Shelooked at me sharply. “Holistic. A clinic? Do you know the doctor’s name?”
    â€œDr. Barnes.”
    Dr. Johanssen groaned. “You weren’t too far wrong, Stacey. Dr. Barnes
calls
himself a holistic doctor but he practically
is
a faith healer. At any rate, I don’t think he’s much more than a quack. He just happens to be getting a lot of publicity now. He’s a fad doctor. And he’s giving good holistic doctors a bad reputation. I don’t know him personally,” she added, “I’ve just heard about him.”
    â€œI knew it, I knew it,” I moaned.
    â€œNow, don’t worry. Dr. Barnes isn’t going to harm you, from what I’ve heard. He won’t touch your insulin, and if he changes your diet, it will be only slightly. What he is going to do—I can practically guarantee this—is recommend all sorts of expensive programs and therapies designed to make your life as positive and fulfilling and healthy as possible. He’ll tell your parents that this will enable you to rid your body of the disease.”
    â€œWhat kinds of therapies?” I asked.
    â€œOh, everything. He’ll tell your parents to send you to a psychologist or psychiatrist. He’ll give you an exercise program, start you on recreational therapy. He may even recommend thatyou change schools so you can get individualized instruction.”
    â€œNo!” I cried.
    â€œThere’s nothing really wrong with any of those things. It’s just that—well, it’s my belief that no special program is going to rid your body of diabetes.”
    I stood up. “Of course not! Are they crazy? How is a psychiatrist going to change my blood sugar? Dr. Johanssen, you have to help me. Help me get out of this.”
    â€œStacey, I’d like to, but I don’t feel I can step in here. I barely know your parents.”
    â€œBut you know me, and you’re a doctor.”
    â€œYes, but I’m not
your
doctor.”
    â€œPlease?”
    Dr. Johanssen rose, too. She put her arm around me. “Let me think, hon. I can’t intervene directly, but before you leave for New York I’ll—” She paused. “I promise I won’t let you go to New York without doing
some
thing. I just need to think. Fair enough?”
    I nodded. “Thanks.”
    On my way home that afternoon, I vowed that I would not let Dr. Barnes put me on any of his programs. But I had only two weeks to figure out how to stop