group and started toward Michelle.
“Michelle? Michelle, wait up!” she called.
In the road, Michelle stopped and looked curiously at the four children. What did they want? But as Sally came near her, she heard Jeff Benson’s voice.
“Hey, Michelle — who did you kill today?”
Sally stopped dead in her tracks and turned back to stare at Jeff.
Michelle stood still for a moment-, trying to understand what he meant. Then she realized.
Susan Peterson.
Billy Evans.
He thought she had killed them. But she hadn’t — she
She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and fought to control them. She wouldn’t let them see her cry — she wouldn’t! She started along the road again, moving as quickly as she could. Her hip was suddenly throbbing with pain, but she tried to ignore it.
Where was Amanda? Why didn’t Amanda come and help her?
And then Sally caught up with her.
“Michelle? Michelle, I’m sorry! I don’t know why Jeff said that. He didn’t mean it!” “Yes, he did,” Michelle said softly, her voice quavering with the tears she was desperately trying to hold back. “He thinks I killed them. Everybody thinks I killed them! But I didn’t!” “I know. I believe you.” Sally paused, unsure what to do. “Why don’t you come over to my house?” she suggested. “We don’t have to stay here and listen to him.” Michelle shook her head. “I’m going home,” she said. “Just leave me alone. I want to go home,” Sally reached out to touch Michelle, but Michelle shrank away from her. “Just leave me alone! Please?” Sally stepped back and wondered what to do. She glanced quickly at the three children who seemed to be waiting for her, then back at Michelle.
“All right,” she said. “But I’m going to tell Jeff Benson what I think of him!” “It won’t matter,” Michelle said. “It won’t change anything.” Without saying good-bye to Sally, she began walking away.
Sally watched her go, then started back toward Jeff and the two girls. When she was a few yards from them, she stopped and planted her hands on her hips.
“That was mean and cruel, Jeff Benson.”
“It wasn’t either!” Jeff shot back. “My mother says she doesn’t understand why they don’t lock her up! She’s crazy!” “I don’t have to listen to you anymore! I’m going home. Come on, Alison.” Her face set, Sally wheeled around and started back toward the road. Alison hesitated for a minute, then started after her. “Are you corning, Lisa?” “I want to go down to the cove,” Lisa whined.
“Then
“Come on,” she said to Jeff. “I’ll race you down the trail!”
Michelle hobbled painfully up the front steps and across the porch. She opened the door, stepped into the house, and stood still for a moment, listening.
There was no sound, except for the soft ticking of the clock in the hull.
“Mom?”
When there was no reply, Michelle started up the stairs. In her room, she would be safe.
Safe from Jeff Benson’s terrible words.
Safe from his accusations.
Safe from the suspicion she could feel all around her.
That’s why her mother hadn’t wanted her to go with her father this morning.
Her mother thought the same things Jeff Benson thought.
But it wasn’t true — she knew it wasn’t true.
She went into her room, dosed the door, and moved to the window seat.
She picked up her doll and cradled it in her arms.
“Amanda? Please, Amanda, tell me what’s happening. Why do they all hate me?” “They’re telling lies about you,” Amanda’s voice whispered to her. “They want to take you away, so they’re telling lies about you.” “Take me away? Why? Why do they want to take me away?”
“Because of me.”
“I–I don’t understand.”
“Because of me,” Amanda repeated. “They always hated me. They don’t want me to have any friends. But you’re my friend, so now they hate you, too. And they’ll take you away” “I don’t care,” Michelle said. “I don’t like it here anymore. I want to go away.” Michelle could see Amanda now. She was only a few feet from her, and her eyes, pale and shining in the gray light of the overcast day, seemed to be boring into Michelle.
“But if you let them take you away,” she heard Amanda saying, “we can’t be friends anymore.” “You can come too,” Michelle suggested. “If they take me away, you can come with me” “No!” Amanda’s voice was suddenly sharp, and Michelle instinctively stepped backward, clutching the doll close to her chest. Amanda moved toward her, her hand out.
“I can’t go with you. I have to stay here.” She took Michelle’s hand. “Stay with me, Michelle. Stay with me, and we’ll make them all stop hating us” “I don’t want to!” Michelle protested. “I don’t know what you want. And you always promise to help me, but something always happens. And they blame me for it. It’s your fault, but they blame me for it! It isn’t fair! Why should they blame me, when it’s you?” “Because we’re the same,” Amanda said quietly. “Can’t you understand that? We’re exactly the same.” “But I don’t want to be like you,” Michelle said. “I want to be like
If she didn’t do what Amanda wanted her to, Amanda would kill her.
“All right,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”
As she said the words, the rage seemed to drain from Amanda’s face, and she smiled. “Take me out to the bluff,” she said. “I want to go out on the bluff, out by the cemetery.” She took Michelle’s hand once more and started to lead her out of the room.
“This is the last time,” she said softly. “After this, it’ll all be over, and they won’t laugh at me anymore.” Michelle wasn’t sure what Amanda was talking about, but it didn’t matter. All she knew was that it was almost over.
Maybe things were going to be all right after all. Maybe after she’d done whatever Amanda wanted, things would be all right.
She left the house and began walking slowly toward the cemetery.
June stood very still, staring at the canvas on her easel.
How it had gotten there, she didn’t know.
Yet there it was, terrifying her. She had been staring at it for a long time — it was as if the picture had trapped her in some kind of hypnotic trance.
It was the same picture she had found in the closet.
Only it was finished now.
She stared at it in utter horror, unable to fully comprehend it.
The sketch was now a complete painting.
There were two people, a man and a woman.
The man’s face was still hidden from view, but the woman’s face was not.
It was a beautiful face, with high cheekbones, full lips, and a perfect widow’s peak at the forehead.
The eyes, green and sparkling, were almond-shaped, and they seemed to be laughing.
It would have been a beautiful picture, except for two things.
The woman was bleeding.
From her breast, and from her throat, blood was gushing, spilling down the woman’s body, dripping to the