Comes the Blind Fury

“Just walking,” Michelle said. She stopped and leaned on the fence. “What are you doing?”

“Playing. But I can’t get the merry-go-round to go fast enough. It’s too heavy.”

“Want me to push it for you?” Michelle offered.

Annie nodded, telling herself that it was all right — she hadn’t actually asked Michelle to play with her.

Michelle opened the gate and limped into the schoolyard. Annie waited patiently on the merry-go-round. When Michelle came close to her, she grinned.

“How come you’re down here on Saturday?”

“I was just walking,” Michelle said.

“How come you’re not playing with anybody?”

“I am. I’m playing with you.”

“But you weren’t. You were all by yourself. Don’t you have any friends?”

“Sure. I have you, and there’s Amanda, too.”

“Amanda? Who’s Amanda?”

“She’s my special friend,” Michelle said. “She helps me.”

“Helps you? Helps you what?” Annie kicked at the ground, and the merry-go-round began to move, very slowly. Michelle reached out and gave it a push, and it speeded up a little. Annie pulled her feet up and waited until she came around to Michelle before she spoke again. “What does Amanda help you do?”

“Things,” Michelle said.

“What kind of things?”

“Never mind,” Michelle said, not knowing exactly how to explain Amanda. “Someday maybe you’ll meet her.”

Annie let the merry-go-round carry her around a few more times, then jumped off.

“How come nobody likes you?” she asked. “I think you’re nice.”

“And I think you’re nice, too,” Michelle said, ignoring Annie’s question. “What do you want to do now?”

“The swings!” Annie cried. “Will you push me on the swings?”

“Sure,” Michelle said. “Come on — I’ll race you!”

Annie immediately dashed off in the direction of the swings, and Michelle started after her, moving as quickly as she could and making a great show of panting. When she caught up with Annie, the little girl was giggling happily.

“I won! I won!”

“Just wait,” Michelle said. “Someday, I’ll learn to run again, and then you’d better watch out!”

But Annie didn’t hear her. She was already on the swings, begging to be pushed. Michelle laid her cane on the ground, and stood behind Annie, a little to one side. Slowly, she began pushing the little girl.…

Corinne Hatcher sat at her desk, trying to concentrate on the papers she was grading. Ordinarily, she would have ignored them until Monday, and spent Saturday with Tim, but this morning he hadn’t called her, and she had known that even if he had, she would have found some excuse. Probably, she would have used these very tests.

And they were only an excuse. She wished she could bring herself to simply call Tim, tell him she wished last night’s fight had never happened, and suggest they forget about it. But she knew she wouldn’t call until she could pretend it was a matter of business. She even knew she would be deceiving no one but herself, but it didn’t matter — she still had to have that excuse, that reason for calling other than to make up.

Disgusted with herself, she set her red pen down and glanced out the window.

And saw Michelle.

Her breath drew in sharply, and she instinctively rose from her chair. Michelle was coming into the schoolyard, and Annie Whitmore was apparently waiting for her.

Corinne watched as Annie climbed onto the merry-go-round, and Michelle began pushing it She could see the two children talking, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. It didn’t matter, though — both of them were smiling and laughing.

Then Annie got off the merry-go-round and started toward the swings, slowly at first, then running. For a moment Corinne was worried, afraid that Annie was mocking Michelle, but then she saw that it was a game, and that Michelle had apparently started it, for she was making a great show of trying to run, flailing her arms, panting madly, while Annie watched and laughed.

Corinne found herself laughing, too.

And there, she realized, was her excuse to call Tim. If he thought Michelle was dangerous, wait till he heard about this — she was actually beginning to parody her own lameness!

She left her room and started down the hall toward the office. But as she started to dial, she had a better idea — it still wasn’t noon, and if she knew Tim, he’d still be home, lingering over his coffee.

She wouldn’t call him. Instead, she’d go to see him, tell him about Michelle. They could spend the day together. As she left the school, Corinne was smiling; today she could even tolerate Lisa Hartwick. She got into her car and started away. As she passed the playground she saw the two girls at the swings, Annie swinging, and Michelle gently pushing her. It was, Corinne Hatcher decided, a good day after all.

“Push me harder, Michelle!”

Annie leaned back in the swing, kicked her little legs up, and tried her best to pump the swing. But she had it wrong, and instead of moving faster, the swing slowed. Again, she called to Michelle. “Harder! I’m dying down!”

“You’re high enough already,” Michelle said. “You’re doing it wrong — you have to lean back when you go forward, and lean forward when you’re going back!”

“I’m trying,” Annie squealed. She increased her effort, doing her best to follow Michelle’s instructions.

“I can’t do it. Push me harder! Please?”

“No! The way you’re pumping, it’s dangerous. When you do it wrong, the chains don’t work. See? Every time you get to the top, something happens. They get loose, and you drop a little bit”

“I wouldn’t if you pushed harder.”

Michelle ignored her, and kept steadily pushing, reaching out with her right hand to give Annie a little shove each time she swung past.

But Annie was getting impatient. She wanted Michelle to push her harder. There had to be a way to make her. Then she had an idea. Even as she thought of it, she knew it was mean. But still, if it would make Michelle push her harder.…

“You just can’t push any harder, that’s all. You’re crippled, so you can’t push!”

Crippled!

The word hit her as it always did, like a hammer. Her stomach turned over, and she felt dizzy. Dizzy, and angry.

The fog crashed in on her this time, coming out of nowhere. She could see nothing — only the gray impenetrable mists swirling around her, blocking her vision.

And Amanda.

Amanda, coming toward her out of the grayness, smiling to her, encouraging her.

“You can push her, Michelle,” Amanda was saying. “Show her how hard you can push her.”

The pain in Michelle’s hip, the constant, nearly unbearable throbbing suddenly cleared up, and she felt that she could move easily, without the help of her cane. And if she needed help, Amanda was there — Amanda would help her.

She stepped behind the swing, and the next time Annie came drifting toward her through the fog, she was ready. She put her hands on Annie’s back, and as the little girl reached the apex of her arc, and started backward once more, Michelle prepared to push her.

Annie squealed with delight as she surged forward again, and clung more tightly to the chains. This was better — she’d never been this high before. Valiantly, she tried to pump, but she still didn’t have the hang of it.

Back she came, and once more she felt Michelle’s hands on her shoulders. “Harder!” she yelled. “Push harder!”

Again she shot forward, and her eyes widened as she saw the ground rushing up at her. Then she leveled