Comes the Blind Fury (20 page)

Once Susan started to say something to Sally, but Sally only shook her head and immediately started to talk to someone else.

Michelle made herself stop watching them. Her eyes wandered over the playground. Out near the back fence, some of the fourth-graders were playing softball, and Michelle felt a twinge of envy as she watched them run. She used to play softball. She had been one of the fastest runners in her school.

But that had been before.

Across the schoolyard, near the gate, Michelle saw Lisa Hartwick sitting by herself. For a second, she wished Lisa would come over and sit on the steps with her, but then she remembered—the other kids didn’t like Lisa, and even if they weren’t talking to her, she wouldn’t make things worse by being friendly with Lisa.

Close by her, at the foot of the steps, three girls—perhaps eight years old—were engrossed in a game of jacks, oblivious to Michelle above them. She watched the game for a while, and remembered when she had been their age. She’d never been good at jacks—the little pieces had always somehow slipped through her fingers. And yet, the game didn’t involve
running, or jumping, or any of the things Michelle couldn’t do anymore. Maybe she should ask them—

The bell rang. Lunchtime was over.

Michelle stood up and went back into the building. She made sure she was the first to arrive in the classroom. As soon as she was inside the door, she slipped into a seat at the back of the room.

A seat where none of them would be able to see her unless they turned around and openly stared at her.

But she would be able to see them.

Watch them.

Know who was laughing at her.…

When the three-ten bell rang, Corinne Hatcher again asked Michelle to wait, and beckoned Michelle to her desk at the front of the empty room.

“I want to apologize for the class.”

Michelle stood before her expressionlessly, her face a blank mask of indifference.

“Apologize? For what?”

“Why, for the way they treated you today. It was very rude.”

“Was it? I didn’t notice anything,” Michelle said tonelessly.

Corinne leaned back in her chair, and tapped her desk with a pencil. “I noticed you weren’t having lunch with your friends.”

“I told you—it was easier not to try to get down the steps. Is it all right if I go now? It’s a long walk home.”

“You’re walking?” Corinne was aghast. She couldn’t walk—it was much too far. But Michelle was nodding calmly.

“It’s good for me,” she said affably. Corinne noticed that now that the subject had nothing to do with her classmates, Michelle seemed to relax. “Besides, I like to walk. And now that I can’t walk as fast as I used to, I see a lot more. You’d be amazed.”

In Corinne’s mind, Michelle’s own words rang out:
It’s important to be able to see
.

“What do you see?” Corinne asked.

“Oh, all kinds of things. Flowers, and trees, and rocks—things like that.” Her voice dropped a little. “When you’re by yourself, you really look around.”

Corinne felt very sad for Michelle. When she spoke, her voice reflected her emotions. “Yes,” she said, “I’m sure you do.” She stood up and began gathering her things together. Walking very slowly, so Michelle could keep up, she left the room and locked the door behind her.

“You’re sure I couldn’t give you a lift home?” Corinne offered when they reached the front steps.

“No, thanks. Really, I’ll be fine.” Michelle sounded distracted, and her eyes were searching the schoolyard, as if she were looking for someone.

“Was someone going to walk with you?”

“No—no, I just thought.…” Michelle’s voice trailed off, and she started down the steps. “See you tomorrow, Miss Hatcher,” she called over her shoulder. Reaching the bottom of the steps, she slung her bookbag over her shoulder, and limped toward the sidewalk.

Corinne Hatcher watched her until she disappeared around the corner, then started toward her car.

He could have waited for me
, Michelle thought bitterly.

She walked as quickly as she could, but within a few blocks her hip began hurting her, and she slowed her pace.

She tried to force her mind off Jeff Benson, but as she walked, every sight she saw reminded her of the days they had walked home together. Now he probably walked Susan Peterson home, she thought.

She left the village behind and made her way along the road, staying well off the pavement. Even though the path was rough, and it was easier to walk on the asphalt, she knew she wouldn’t be able to get out of the way of an oncoming car—the path was much safer.

She stopped every few yards, partly to rest, but also to look around, to examine everything carefully, as if she were seeing it for the first, or maybe the last, time. Once or twice, she stood perfectly still, closed her eyes tightly, and tried to imagine what it would be like to be blind. With the cane, she poked at things around her, seeing if she could identify them by the way they felt.

Most of the time, she couldn’t.

It would be awful, she thought. Being blind would be the most awful thing in the world.

She was almost halfway home when she heard a voice calling to her.

“Michelle? Hey, Michelle, wait up!”

Stoically, ignoring the voice, Michelle kept walking.

A minute later, Jeff Benson caught up with her.

“Why didn’t you wait?” he demanded. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“I heard you.”

“Well, why didn’t you stop?”

“Why didn’t you wait for me after school?” Michelle countered.

“I promised Susan
I’d
walk her home.”

“And you knew you could catch up with me?”

Jeff blushed. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” There was a silence, and Michelle continued on her way, Jeff keeping pace with her. “If you want to go home, you don’t have to wait for me,” she said.

“I don’t mind.”

They continued walking. Michelle wished Jeff would go away. Finally, she told him so.

“You make me feel like a freak!” she exclaimed. “Why don’t you just go on home, and leave me alone?”

Jeff stopped in his tracks and stared at her. His mouth opened, then closed again. His face reddened and his fists clenched. “Well, if that’s the way you feel, maybe I will,” he said at last.

“Good!” Michelle could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and for a moment she was afraid she was going to cry. But then Jeff turned away from her, and began loping down the road. When he was a few yards away, he suddenly looked back, waved, and broke into a run. To Michelle, it was like a slap in the face.

Jeff slammed into his house, and called out to let his mother know he was home. He tossed his books on a table and went into the living room, where he flopped down on the sofa and put his feet on the coffee table. Girls! What a pain!

First Susan Peterson, telling him that he shouldn’t talk to Michelle anymore, then Michelle, telling him that she didn’t want him to walk with her anymore.
It was crazy, that’s what it was. He glanced out the window.

There she was, all by herself. Jeff watched as Michelle passed his house and started past the cemetery. Suddenly she stopped, and stared into the graveyard, as if she were watching something. But there was nothing to watch. To Jeff, the cemetery looked the same as it always did—choked with weeds, gravestones collapsing, deserted. What was Michelle looking at?

As Michelle drew abreast of the cemetery, the bright afternoon sun faded. Fog began to form around her. She had grown used to it now, and was no longer surprised when the damp coldness suddenly closed in around her, blotting out the rest of the world, leaving her alone in the mist. She knew she wouldn’t be alone long: when the fog came, so did Amanda. Michelle was beginning to look forward to the fog, look forward to seeing her friend.

There she was, coming toward her out of the cemetery, smiling to her, and waving.

“Hi,” Michelle called.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Amanda said as she came through the broken fence. “Was it as bad as we thought it would be?”

“Yes. They laughed at me, and kept whispering to each other.”

“It’s all right,” Amanda said. “I’ll walk with you and you can show me things.”

“Can’t you see things yourself?”

Amanda’s milky white eyes fixed on Michelle’s face. “I can’t see anything,” she said, “unless I’m with you.” Michelle took Amanda’s hand and started along the
path. For some reason, she noticed, it was easier to walk with Amanda next to her. Her hip didn’t hurt nearly as much, and she hardly limped at all.

Amanda led her across the cemetery and along the bluff trail. Soon they arrived at the Pendletons’, and Michelle instinctively started toward the house.

“No,” Amanda said. Michelle felt Amanda’s grip on her hand tighten. “The potting-shed. What I want to see is in the potting-shed.” Michelle hesitated, then, her curiosity aroused, allowed Amanda to lead her toward her mother’s studio.

Amanda led Michelle around the corner of the little building, and stopped at the window.

“Look inside,” she whispered to Michelle.

Obediently, Michelle peered through the window.

The fog, thick around her, seemed to have permeated the studio as well. There was a mistiness inside; everything was indistinct.

And nothing looked quite right.

Her mother’s easel was there, but the painting propped up on it was not her mother’s.

Michelle stared at the painting for a second, then a movement caught her eye, and her glance shifted. There were people in the studio, but she couldn’t see them clearly. The mists swirled around them, and their faces were invisible to her.

Then Michelle heard the sounds.

It was Amanda, next to her.

“It’s true,” Amanda whispered, her voice constricted into a hiss. “She’s a whore … a
whore!”

Michelle’s eyes widened in fright at the anger in her friend’s voice. She tried to pull her hand from Amanda’s grip, but Amanda hung on.

“Don’t!” she begged. “Don’t pull away! Let me see! I have to
see!”

Her face twisted in fury, and her grip on Michelle’s hand became painful.

Suddenly Michelle wrenched free. She backed away from Amanda, and as their hands parted, Amanda’s sightless gaze fixed on her.

“Don’t,” she repeated. “Please? Don’t go away. Let me see. I’m your friend, and I’m going to help you. Won’t you help me, too?”

But Michelle had already turned away. She started toward the house. The fog seemed to lift a little.

By the time she reached the house the mist had cleared.

But her limp had slowed her nearly to a stop, and her hip was once more throbbing with pain.

CHAPTER 14

Michelle let the kitchen door slam noisily behind her, dumped her bookbag on the table, and went to the refrigerator. She was terribly conscious of her mother watching her, and struggled to control the trembling of her hands. It wasn’t until she had poured herself a glass of milk that June spoke to her.

“Michelle? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Michelle replied. She put the milk back into the refrigerator, and smiled at her mother.

June regarded her daughter cautiously. Something was wrong. She looked frightened. But what could have frightened her? June had watched her come along the path, hesitate for a moment, then continue on to the studio, where she had paused briefly at the window. When she had started toward the house, it was as if she had seen something.

“What were you looking at?”

“Looking at?” June was almost sure Michelle was stalling for time.

“In the studio. I saw you looking through the studio window.”

“But you couldn’t—” Michelle began. Then she caught herself, and glanced out the window.

The sun was shining brightly.

The fog was gone.

“Nothing,” Michelle said. “I was just looking to see if you were working.”

“Mmm,” June said noncommittally. Then: “How did it go at school?”

“All right.” Michelle finished her glass of milk and struggled to her feet, her hip throbbing. She picked up her bookbag and started toward the butler’s pantry.

“I thought you might bring Sally home with you this afternoon,” June suggested.

“She—she had some things she had to do,” Michelle lied. “Besides, I wanted to walk by myself.”

“You mean Jeff didn’t even walk with you?”

“He did for a while. He walked Susan Peterson home, then caught up with me.”

June looked sharply at Michelle. There was something her daughter wasn’t telling her. Michelle’s face was guileless. And yet June was positive she was hiding something, holding something back. “You’re sure nothing went wrong?” she pressed.

“It was
fine
, Mother.” There was a hint of irritation in Michelle’s voice, so June decided to drop the subject.

“Want to help me with the bread?”

Michelle considered it for a moment, then shook her head. “I’ve got a lot to catch up on. I think I’d better go up to my room.”

June let her go, then returned to her bread dough. As she worked, her eyes drifted outside to the studio.

What was it? What did she see in there? Something that frightened her, I’m sure of it
. She pulled her fingers loose from the dough, wiped them off on her apron, then left the house. Whatever Michelle had seen, it must still be in the studio.…

Michelle closed her bedroom door, and sank onto the bed. She wondered if she should have told her mother about the people in the studio. But something had told her not to. What she had seen was a secret. A secret between her and Amanda. But it had been scary. Even as she remembered it, a shiver went through her body.

She got up from the bed and went to the window seat, picking up the doll that was propped there. She raised the doll to eye level, and gazed into its china face.

“What do you want, Amanda?” she asked softly. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to show me things,” the voice whispered in her ear. “I want you to show me things, and be my friend.”

“But what do you want to see? How can I show you things if I don’t know what you want to see?”