thoughts and feelings right now that are totally foreign to her. She doesn’t like them. In fact, they’re tearing her apart. So she’s invented Amanda. Amanda, essentially, is the dark side of Michelle’s personality, and Michelle simply transfers all her — how shall I say it? Uglier? I guess that’s a good enough word — she transfers all her uglier thoughts and impulses — the ones she can’t even bear to take responsibility for — onto Amanda.” “Isn’t that what they call projecting?” Cal asked, his voice filled with a hostility that Tim chose to ignore.
“As a matter of fact, yes, it is. Except that this is a particularly extreme form. The term
Tim decided he’d had enough. “Dr. Pendleton, I get the feeling you’d rather not be hearing any of this. Am I right?” “I’m here because my wife demanded it of me. But I think we’re wasting our time.” “Maybe we are,” Tim agreed. He folded his hands placidly and waited. He didn’t have to wait long.
“You see?” Cal asked June. “Even he says we may be wasting our time. If you want to go on with this, you’ll have to do it alone. I’ve heard enough.” He started toward the door, then turned back. “Are you coming?” June met his gaze, and when she spoke, her voice was calm. “No, Cal, I’m not. I can’t make you listen, but I’m going to. If you want, you can wait for me. Otherwise, you can take Michelle, and I can walk home.” Tim, who had been watching Cal carefully, was sure he saw Cal flinch slightly at the mention of Michelle, but he said nothing, waiting to see what Cal would do.
“I’ll wait,” Cal said. He left the office, closing the door behind him. When he was gone, June turned back to Tim.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “He — well, he just can’t seem to face any of this. It’s been terrible.” Tim was silent for a moment, allowing her her anguish. Then he said, very softly, “I think I can help Michelle. She’s under a lot of pressure — her physical condition, for one thing. It isn’t easy for a child suddenly to become a cripple. On top of that, there’s the whole thing with Jennifer. And, of course, the whipped cream on the cake is her father’s attitude. All together, it’s putting Michelle under a lot of pressure, and things are coming loose.” “Then I was right,” June breathed. It was as if a weight was being lifted from her shoulders. “Why does that make me feel so much better?” “It’s always better,” Tim assured her, “to understand a problem. It’s when you don’t know what’s going on that you feel completely lost. And at least, with Michelle, we know what’s going on.” Michelle sat in the teachers’ lounge for a few minutes, sipping at her Coke. She liked Mr. Hartwick — he listened to her, and believed her when she told him about Amanda. He didn’t tell her Amanda was a ghost, or not real, or anything like that. Idly, she wondered what he was telling her parents. Not that it would make any difference. No matter what he said to them, they wouldn’t love her anymore.
She wandered out of the teachers’ lounge and onto the back stairs of the school. Billy Evans was sitting on a swing, kicking at the ground, trying to get the swing going. He was all alone, and when he saw Michelle, he waved to her, beckoning to her. She threw away the empty Coke cup and started down the stairs, leaning heavily on her cane.
“Hi,” Billy said. “Will you push me?”
“Okay.”
She began pushing him. He laughed happily and began begging her to push him harder.
“It’s too high,” Michelle said. “You shouldn’t even be on these swings. You should be on the little ones.” “I’m big enough,” Billy replied. “I can even walk the backstop.”
Michelle glanced out to the baseball diamond, where a makeshift backstop had been constructed from two- by-fours and some wire mesh. It stood about eight feet tall and was some twenty feet long. Michelle had seen some of the older boys, the boys her age, scrambling up it, then walking its length. But the younger boys, the boys Billy’s age, never dared.
“I never saw you,” Michelle said.
“You never looked. Let the swing die down, and I’ll show you.”
Michelle stopped pushing, and Billy let the swing go through its arc once. Then, as it reached its forward peak, he jumped off, landing on his feet and running out toward the baseball field.
“Come on!” he called over his shoulder. Michelle started after him, moving as fast as she could, but by the time she reached him, he was already scrambling up the wire.
“Be careful,” she warned him.
“It’s easy,” Billy scoffed. He reached the top and straddled the two-by-four, grinning down at her.
“Come on up,” he said.
“I can’t,” Michelle said. “You know that.”
Billy pulled one foot up, then the other. Slowly, balancing himself with his hands, he managed a crouching position. Then, wobbling all the way, he rose carefully until he was standing upright, his arms held straight out.
“See?”
Michelle could see him swaying. She was sure he was going to fall.
“Billy, you come down from there. You’ll fall and hurt yourself, and I won’t be able to help you.” “I won’t fall! Watch me!”
He took a tentative step, nearly lost his footing, then regained his balance and took another.
“Please, Billy?” Michelle pleaded.
Billy was moving steadily away from her, inching carefully along the two-by-four, his balance improving with each step.
“I won’t fall,” he insisted. Then, realizing that Michelle was about to insist that he come down, he decided to tease her. “You’re just mad, because you can’t do it. If you weren’t a cripple, you could. But you are, so you can’t!” And he began to laugh.
Michelle stared at him for a second, his laughter echoing in her ears.
He sounded like Susan Peterson, and all the rest of them.
The fog started closing around her, the cold mists that she knew would bring Amanda with them. Billy Evans, his face grinning at her, faded from her vision, but his voice, still laughing, cut through the fog like a knife.
And then Amanda was there, standing behind her, whispering to her.
“Don’t let him do that, Michelle,” Mandy said softly. “He’s laughing at you. Don’t let him laugh at you. Don’t ever let any of them laugh at you again.” Michelle hesitated. Once more, she heard Billy’s mocking laugh, and his taunt.
“You could do it! If you weren’t crippled!”
“Make him stop!” Mandy hissed in her ear.
“I don’t know how,” Michelle wailed. She looked around desperately, searching for Amanda.
“I’ll show you,” Mandy whispered. “Let me show you …”
The laughter, the mocking laughter, suddenly stopped, and was replaced by a scream of terror.
• • •
Billy tried to jump, but it was too late — beneath his feet, the backstop was moving.
He lost his balance, tried to regain it, failed. Then his arms were flailing in the air. He was falling.
A second later there was a silence in the schoolyard, a silence broken for Michelle only by the sound of Amanda’s voice.
“You see? See how easy it is? Now you can make them all stop laughing …” Her voice trailed off, and she was gone. The fog began to disperse. Michelle waited for a moment, waited for it all to be gone, then she looked.
Billy Evans, his head twisted around so that his empty eyes were staring at her, lay on the ground a few feet away.
Michelle knew he would never laugh at her again.
CHAPTER 23
