read — as far as he could tell, Michelle was now quite relaxed.
“Why doesn’t she go to school?” Tim asked.
“She can’t. She’s blind.”
“Blind?”
Michelle nodded. “She can’t see at all, except when she’s with me. Her eyes look strange, all milky.” “And where did you meet her?”
Michelle thought for a long time before she answered him. Finally she shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess I must have met her out by our house. That’s where she lives.” Tim decided to drop the subject for a moment. “How’s your leg? Does it hurt very badly?” “It’s all right” She paused, then seemed to change her mind. “Well, sometimes it hurts worse than others. And sometimes it hardly hurts at all.” “When is that?”
“When I’m with Amanda. I–I guess she sort of takes my mind off it I think that’s why we’re such good friends. She’s blind, and I’m crippled.” “Weren’t you friends before you fell?” Tim asked, sensing something important.
“No. I saw her a couple of times, but I didn’t really get to know her until after the accident. Then she started visiting me.” “Didn’t you have a doll named Amanda?” Tim asked suddenly. Michelle only nodded.
“I still do. Except that it isn’t really my doll. Actually, it was Mandy’s doll, but now we share it.” “I see.”
“I’m glad
“You mean some people don’t?”
“Mom doesn’t. She thinks I made Amanda up. I guess she thinks that because they have the same name. Amanda and the doll, I mean.” “Well, it could get confusing.”
“I guess,” Michelle agreed. “Actually, at first I thought they were the same, too. But they’re not. Amanda’s real, and the doll’s not.” “What do you and Amanda do together?”
“Talk, mostly. But sometimes we go for walks together.”
“What do you talk about?”
“All kinds of things.”
Tim decided to try a shot in the dark. “Was Amanda with you the day Susan Peterson fell off the bluff?” Michelle nodded.
“Were you in the graveyard?”
“Yes. Susan was saying mean things to me, but Mandy made her stop.” “How did she do that?”
“She chased her away.”
“You mean she chased her off the bluff?”
“I don’t know,” Michelle said slowly. The thought had never occurred to her before. “Maybe so. I couldn’t see — it was foggy that day.… Mom said it wasn’t, but it was.” Tim leaned forward, and his face grew serious. “Michelle, is it always foggy when Amanda is with you?” Michelle thought a moment, then shook her head. “No. Sometimes it is, but not all the time.” Tim nodded. “What about your other friends? Do they know Amanda?”
“I don’t have any other friends.”
“None?”
Michelle’s voice dropped. Her eyes seemed to cloud over. “Ever since I fell off the bluff, nobody wants to be my friend.” “What about your sister?” Tim asked. “Isn’t your sister your friend?” “She’s just a baby.” There was a long silence, but Tim was reluctant to break it, sure that Michelle was about to say something. He was right.
“Besides,” Michelle added, her voice little more than a whisper, “she’s not really my sister.” “She isn’t?”
“I’m adopted. Jenny’s not.”
“Does that bother you?”
“I don’t know,” Michelle hedged. “Amanda says …”
“What does Amanda say?” Tim urged her.
“Amanda says that ever since Jenny was born, Mom and Dad don’t love me anymore.” “And do you believe her?”
Michelle’s face took on a belligerent quality. “Well, why shouldn’t I? Daddy hardly even talks to me anymore, and Mommy spends all her time taking care of Jenny, and — and—” Her voice trailed off, and a tear slid down her cheek.
“Michelle,” Tim asked gently. “Do you wish Jenny had never been born?” “I–I don’t know.”
“It’s all right if you do,” Tim told her. “I know how mad I was when my little sister was born. It just didn’t seem fair. I’d had my parents all to myself for so long, and then all of a sudden there was someone else. But I found out my parents loved me just as much as they ever did.” “But you weren’t adopted,” Michelle countered. “It’s not the same.” She stood up. “May I go now?” “Don’t you want to talk to me anymore?”
“No. At least, not right now. And not about Jenny. I hate Jenny!”
“All right,” Tim said soothingly. “We won’t talk about Jenny anymore.” “I don’t want to talk about anything anymore!” Michelle glared at him, her face set stubbornly.
“What
“I want to go home,” Michelle said. “I want to go home, and find Amanda!” “All right,” Tim said. “I’ll tell you what — I have to talk to your parents for a few minutes. Let’s get you a Coke, and by the time you finish it, I should be done with your father and mother. How does that sound?” Michelle seemed about to argue with him, but suddenly her anger dissipated, and she shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” Tim opened his office door for her and smiled encouragingly at June and Cal. “We’re going to get Michelle a Coke,” he told them. “You can go in — I’ll be right back.” “Thank you,” June murmured. Cal made no response at all.
They were waiting when he got back, June sitting nervously in the chair Michelle had occupied a few minutes earlier, Cal standing at the window, his back stiff. Even though his back was to him, Tim could sense Cal glaring. He sat down in his chair and fingered Michelle’s file.
“What happened?” June asked.
“We had quite a conversation.”
“And do you agree with my wife? Do you think Michelle’s crazy?”
“Cal, I never said that,” June protested.
“But it’s what you think.” He faced Tim. “My wife thinks both Michelle and I are crazy.” The expression on June’s face, a combination of exasperation and pity, told Tim everything he needed to know.
“Mr. Hartwick—” June began. Then she floundered.
Tim came to her rescue. “Why don’t you call me Tim? It makes things easier. Dr. Pendleton? Can I offer you a chair?” “I’ll stand,” Cal said stiffly, maintaining his position at the window. June shrugged, her face lifted to his, and Tim understood the gesture immediately. He decided, for the moment, not to press Cal.
“We talked about this friend of hers — Amanda,” he told June.
“And?”
“Well, as far as I can tell, she seems to think Amanda is real. Not necessarily physically real, but definitely a person other than herself. A person who exists independently of her.” “Is that — is that normal?”
“In a small child, say a three-year-old, it’s not that unusual.”
“I see …” June said. “But not for Michelle. Am I right?”
“It may not be all that serious,” Tim began, but Cal had turned away from the window and interrupted him.
“It isn’t serious at all!” he said sharply. “All she’s done is dream up a friend to get her through a rough time. Frankly, I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” “I wish I could agree with you, Dr. Pendleton,” Tim said quietly. “But I’m afraid I can’t. Your daughter is in the midst of some very serious problems, and unless you’re willing to face them, I don’t really see how you can help her.” “Problems” June repeated. “You said problems. You mean more than her adjusting to her — her condition?” Tim nodded. “I’m not even sure her leg is the main problem. In fact, I’m almost sure it’s not. It’s her sister.” “Jenny?” Cal asked.
“Oh, God, I was afraid of that,” June moaned. She turned on Cal. “I told you. I’ve been telling you for weeks, but you wouldn’t believe me!” “Dr. Pendleton, Michelle doesn’t think you love her anymore. She thinks that, because she’s adopted, you stopped loving her when you had a baby of your own.” “That’s ridiculous,” Cal said.
“Is it?” June asked, her voice hollow. “Is it really?”
“It seems her friend Amanda told her so,” Tim said.
June stared at him blankly. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Tim leaned back in his chair. “Well, it’s not really all that difficult to put together. Michelle is having some
