The Land of Decoration

going to hit Neil, because her chest was rising and falling. And as I watched them, something seemed to be happening to me too, because my heart was beating so hard I was floating and something was flowing out of me as if there was a leak.

Nobody moved for what seemed the longest time. Then something, somewhere, snapped. The strings holding Neil were cut; Mrs. Pierce set her chin a little higher. It was difficult to say what changed exactly, but we all felt it. Mrs. Pierce said: “Get!” and Neil went to his desk. He put his hands over his ears and he didn’t look up.

And something about the way everyone was looking at him, something about the way he drew in his head and curled up, reminded me of something I had seen somewhere else, though just then I was too tired to remember what it was.

In the Classroom

AT HOME TIME Mrs. Pierce said: “Would you wait behind a minute, Judith, please?” so I sat at my desk while everyone trooped out, and after a little while the classroom was quiet.

Mrs. Pierce shut the door. Then she came to my table and sat down beside me. She said: “I’m sorry about what happened today. If it’s any consolation, I think things are going to change quite a bit around here, so you won’t have to worry about that sort of thing anymore.”

I said: “They’ve changed a lot already.”

Mrs. Pierce inhaled. She said: “And high time they did.” Then she said: “Judith, there was just something I wanted to ask you. You see, something I overheard Neil say today in the toilets puzzled me—something about God helping you? At least that’s what it sounded like. Perhaps I’m wrong….”

I heard God say: “Be careful. Be very careful.”

“Don’t worry,” I told Him.

“I don’t remember,” I said out loud.

Mrs. Pierce frowned. She said: “I thought I heard him say: ‘See if God can help you now’—or words to that effect.” She smiled. “I only mention it because it reminded me of something I read in your news book, about God making it snow. Is that right?”

“Get out of there,” said God.

“But Mrs. Pierce is my friend,” I said.

“I’m your friend,” said God. “And I’m telling you to get out.”

“I have to answer her,” I said to God.

I said to Mrs. Pierce: “Yes, I did make snow in my model world. And then it really did snow. But it was just a coincidence. God didn’t make it happen.”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Pierce. “I thought you wrote that a miracle had happened.”

God said: “Get out right now!”

My hands felt slippery.

Mrs. Pierce said: “How did Neil know God ‘helped’ you, Judith?”

I looked down. “Neil read my news book.”

“Ah,” said Mrs. Pierce. “Then I did read it there.”

“But it’s all made up!” I said. “It’s just imaginary. I’m a good storyteller.”

“You are,” said Mrs. Pierce. “Well.” She smiled and folded her hands in her lap. “That explains that.”

“Yes.”

I thought she had finished, but then she said: “Judith, there was just one more thing. There was a conversation with God in your news book. It was so lifelike I wondered whether you ever heard voices or chatted to people—in your imagination, of course.”

“Why are you still there?” shouted God.

“No,” I said. “I mean yes. Sometimes!”

Mrs. Pierce bent her head so that she could see my face. “And is that person God?”

“GO!” shouted God.

I rubbed my hands back and forth over my knees. “Yes,” I said to Mrs. Pierce. “But that’s pretend too.”

Mrs. Pierce’s voice was very soft now. “What about seeing things, Judith? Do you ever see things other people don’t, things that are invisible? Do you ever see things you can’t explain?”

God shouted: “She is going to ruin everything!” and His voice was so loud it sort of flattened me and it took me a minute to feel three-dimensional again.

I heard Mrs. Pierce saying: “Judith, are you all right?”

She was saying something else too but I couldn’t hear her, because it was like being turned round and round.

I heard Mrs. Pierce say: “It’s all right, Judith, it’s all right; let’s stop talking about this. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just interested, that’s all.”

Then God said: “GET OUT.” And His voice was so deep and so strange I wondered if it was God at all, and it frightened me so much that I began to cry.

Mrs. Pierce said: “Judith! What’s the matter?”

I walked to the door but I couldn’t go out. Instead, I stood there, staring at the handle and it was as if my body was one big heart. I said: “I’ve never seen anything invisible, but I do believe in God. And sometimes I talk to Him,” and it was as if the words were the burning coals the angel touched to Isaiah’s lips, and saying them was like stepping off a cliff. There was a rush of heat and my blood frothed up inside me. But once I had said them I was glad, because Mrs. Pierce smiled, as if she had been hoping I would say something like this all along and knew I would manage it eventually.

She came up to me and said quietly: “Does talking to God make you unhappy, Judith?”

I opened my mouth and closed it again. I looked down at my shoes. “I don’t know,” I said.

“All right,” said Mrs. Pierce. “Sometimes it’s difficult to know what we feel, isn’t it?” She put her hand on my shoulder. “You’re a very special person, Judith, I want you to remember that. I also want you to remember that if ever you need to talk about anything—anything at all—you can come to me and talk to me in the confidence that whatever you tell me won’t go any further. And though I might not understand, I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”

* * *

God was silent as I walked home. It was like being in a room with someone you weren’t talking to, but I couldn’t go out of the room because it was my own head. In the end I couldn’t bear it. I said: “Why were You acting so strangely? Mrs. Pierce is our friend.”

“I’m your friend,” said God.

“She was just being kind,” I said. “She wants to help us.”

“If you carry on blurting things out, there won’t be any ‘us,’” said God. “You’ll be on your own. Don’t you know how dangerous it is telling people everything like that? They’ll try to separate us. They’ll tell you you’re not talking to anyone at all. They’ll tell you you’re imagining it and send you to some sort of doctor.”

“I wouldn’t listen if they did,” I said. “I know what’s real. I didn’t tell Mrs. Pierce anything anyway.”

“You told her far too much,” said God. “Listen, young lady: Your power depends on you doing exactly what I tell you. That’s the deal. You won’t get far without Me.”

“I’m sorry!” I said. “I’ll try to be more careful. But I don’t understand: You weren’t like this when I talked to Father or Uncle Stan.”

“That was different,” said God. “I didn’t foresee any problems with them.”

“Father didn’t believe me at all!”

“Precisely,” said God. “I mean—more fool him.” He coughed. “Listen,” He said. “If that teacher tries to talk to you again—”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t say a word.”

Then I remembered something. “Oh, and God,” I said, “please don’t ever use that strange voice again.”