“I slipped,” Michelle said suddenly. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault. I just slipped. And I’ll be all right — you’ll see! I’ll be fine!” She turned her head away from Sally, but not before Sally saw the bitter tears beginning to form.
“Do you hate us all?” Sally asked. “I hate Susan …”
Michelle looked at Sally curiously. “Then why didn’t you make her shut up? Why didn’t you help me?”
The tears welled over and ran down her cheeks, and Sally quietly began
“When are you coming back to school? Do you want us to bring you your work?”
Michelle sniffled. “I don’t feel like studying.”
“But you’ll get so far behind,” Sally protested.
“Maybe I won’t come back to school.”
“You have to,” Jeff said. “Everybody has to go to school.”
“Maybe my parents will send me to another school.”
“But why?” Sally’s tears had disappeared.
“Because I’m crippled.”
“But you can walk. You said so.”
“I limp. Everybody will laugh at me.”
“No, they won’t,” Sally assured her. “We won’t let them, will we, Jeff?” Jeff nodded in agreement, though his expression was uncertain.
“Susan Peterson will,” Michelle said lifelessly, as if she didn’t care.
Sally made a face. “Susan Peterson laughs at everybody. Just ignore her.”
“Like everybody did at the picnic?” Michelle’s voice was bitter now, and her face turned angry. “Why don’t you leave me alone? Why don’t all of you just leave me alone!”
Abashed at Michelle’s outburst, Sally stood up quickly. “I–I’m sorry,” she stammered, her face reddening. “We were just trying to help …”
“Nobody can help,” Michelle said, her voice quivering. “I have to do it myself. All of it!”
She turned her face away and closed her eyes. Jeff and Sally stared at her for a moment, then started toward the door.
“I’ll come back again,” Sally offered, but when there was no response from Michelle, she followed Jeff out into the hall.
June was waiting for them downstairs. She knew immediately that something had gone wrong. “Did she talk to you?”
“Sort of.” Sally’s voice was unsteady. June saw that she was on the verge of tears. She put an arm around the girl and hugged her gently.
“Try not to let her worry you,” she urged. “It’s been terrible for her, and she’s been in pain all the time. But she’ll be all right. It’ll just take time.”
Sally nodded mutely. Then her tears overflowed, and she buried her face in June’s shoulder.
“Oh, Mrs. Pendleton, I feel like it’s our fault. All our fault.”
June drew the girl to her. “It’s not your fault, or anyone’s fault, and I’m sure Michelle doesn’t think it is.”
“Are you really going to send her away to school?” Jeff asked suddenly. June looked at him blankly.
“Away? What do you mean?”
“Michelle said she might be going to another school. I guess a school for — cripples,” he finished, stumbling on the word as if he hated to use it.
“Is it true?” Sally searched June’s face, but June carefully remained expressionless.
“Well, we’ve talked about it …” she lied, wondering where Michelle had gotten such an idea. It had never even been mentioned.
“I hope she can stay here.” Sally’s voice was eager. “Nobody will laugh at her — really they won’t!”
“Why, whatever put such an idea into your heads?” June exclaimed. She began to wonder exactly what had transpired upstairs, but knew better than to try to pry it out of Jeff and Sally. “Now why don’t you two run along and come back in a couple of days. I’m sure Michelle will be feeling much better then.”
June watched the two children retreat along the bluff. She could see them talking animatedly together. When Jeff glanced back at the house, June waved to him, but he ignored her, turning almost guiltily away.
June’s spirits, buoyed by the appearance of Sally and Jeff, sank again. She started upstairs to have a talk with Michelle. But as she was about to go into her daughter’s room, Jennifer suddenly began crying. June stood indecisively at Michelle’s door for a moment. As Jennifer’s howls increased, she decided to see to the baby first. Then she would face Michelle, and have a talk with her. A real talk.
Michelle lay in bed, her eyes open, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, listening to the voice.
It was closer now, closer than it had ever been before. She still had to listen carefully to make out the words, but she was getting better at it.
It was a pleasant voice, almost musical. Michelle was almost sure she knew where it came from.
It was the girl.
The girl in the black dress, the one she had seen first in her dreams, then that day at the graveyard. The day Jennifer had been born.
At first, the girl had only called out to her, calling for help. But now she was saying other things. Michelle lay in bed, and she listened.
“
The voice faded away, and Michelle became aware of a soft tapping at her door. The door opened, and her mother came in, smiling at her, Jennifer in her arms.
“Hi! How’s everything?”
“All right, I guess.”
“Did you have a nice visit with Sally and Jeff?”
“I guess.”
“I thought you might like to say hello to your sister.”
Michelle stared at the baby, her face expressionless.
“What did Sally and Jeff have to say?” June was beginning to feel desperate. Michelle was barely answering her questions.
“Nothing much. They just wanted to say hi.”
“But you must have talked with them.”
“Not really.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. June began fiddling with Jennifer’s blanket while she tried to decide what tactic to take with Michelle. Finally, reluctantly, she made up her mind.
“Well, I think it’s time you got out of bed,” she said flatly. At last there was a reaction from Michelle. Her eyes flickered, and for a moment June thought they filled with fear. She shrank further down under the covers.
“But I can’t …” she began. June quietly interrupted her.
“Of course you can,” she said smoothly. “You get out of bed every day. And it’s good for you — the sooner you get out of bed and start exercising, the sooner you can go back to school.”
“But I don’t want to go back to school,” Michelle said. Now, suddenly, she was sitting up straight, staring intensely at her mother. “I never want to go back to that school. They all hate me there.”
“Don’t be silly,” June said. “Who told you that?”
