Nightmare (11 page)

It was also fortunate that the girl I had struck with a rock did not die
.

But Emily Wood must die. She is a real threat to my future career and well-being. I am forced to take some type of action against her. Something that will not incriminate me
.

What will it be?

Emily slipped into a seat in the back row of the meeting hall, Maxwell beside her. Dr. Anderson, standing at a podium at the front of the room, was talking about taking responsibility. The last thing in the world Emily wanted to hear about was taking responsibility, so she scrunched down and ducked her head, letting her hair fall. There was so much to think about, to wonder about.
What if someone
 …, she thought, but could go no further.

She suddenly realized that chairs were being scraped across the floor and people around her were rising.

“Emily Wood,” a girl said, and stretched to reach Emily, handing her a folded sheet of paper.

Wordlessly, Emily took the paper, staring after the girl, who had disappeared back into the crowd.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” Maxwell asked, curiosity tingeing his words.

Emily slowly opened the sheet and scanned it. “It’s a note from Dr. Isaacson,” she said. “He wants me to meet him in his office after this session is over.”

“It’s over now.”

Emily gulped down the lump that rose in her throat as she pictured Dr. Isaacson’s office, in which hung the portrait of Dr. Amelia Foxworth.

Maxwell stood and grasped Emily’s hand, pulling her to her feet. Then he turned her hand palm up and stared at it. “Your hand’s all sticky and sweaty,” he said. “What’s the matter?”

“I—uh—don’t want to talk to Dr. Isaacson,” Emily answered. She couldn’t give Maxwell the real reason.

“Why not? It’s not like going to the principal for something you’ve done wrong. This whole camp thing is supposed to be about self-esteem, so he’s not going to make you feel bad about yourself. He’s probably holding individual meetings with each of the people here.”

Maxwell let go of Emily’s hand and wiped his own hands on his jeans. “Talk about whatever he wants to talk about. Just don’t shake hands with him,” he added.

Emily couldn’t tell Maxwell about her dread of seeing that portrait again and of trying to explain her reaction to Dr. Isaacson. Instead she said, “He may want to talk about why I fainted.”

“You fainted?”

“In his office.”

Maxwell groaned. “One more thing I didn’t know about. Tell me. Why did you faint in his office?”

Emily looked away. “Mrs. Jimenez said it was because I was hungry. I was in her clinic. That’s why I didn’t come in to dinner.”

Maxwell’s gaze was so intense that Emily couldn’t keep from meeting it. “Why do I get the idea that there’s even more to that story than you’ve told me?” he asked.

Emily put a hand on his arm. “Don’t ask me now, Maxwell. Please. I can’t talk about it.”

Maxwell nodded, suddenly solemn. “Okay.” He glanced around the nearly empty room. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll walk to his office with you.”

“Thanks,” Emily said. She tried to convince herself that she had nothing to be afraid of. She had her excuse. Mrs. Jimenez had given it to her.

“I was hungry,” she told Dr. Isaacson a few minutes later as she perched stiffly on the edge of the loveseat in his office. As soon as he had indicated where they would talk, she had chosen the spot, making sure that the portrait was behind her. Although it was creepy to have Dr. Foxworth’s portrait looking down at her, at least Emily wouldn’t have to see it.

“We try to provide more than sufficient food for our students,” Dr. Isaacson said. “Had you skipped lunch and breakfast?”

“No,” Emily admitted.

He leaned back in his chair and smiled. Emily knew he was trying to put her at ease by making her think this was nothing more than a friendly chat. But a friendly chat wasn’t possible. He was the famous psychologist-director of the Foxworth-Isaacson Educational Center, and Emily was … was a witness to Dr. Foxworth’s death. She shivered.

“Is the air-conditioning set too low?” he asked. “I can easily adjust it for your comfort.”

“No, sir. I’m fine,” Emily said.

“You’re fully recovered from your fainting spell?”

“It wasn’t exactly a spell. I was just hungry,” Emily repeated. “Mrs. Jimenez said so.”

“So she reported,” he said. Then abruptly, catching Emily off guard, he added, “I was informed at our staff meeting that you exhibited an interest in Dr. Amelia Foxworth.”

Emily swallowed hard. It was suddenly difficult to breathe. “I just asked who she was. I saw her picture. She looked familiar.”
I’ve said too much
, she thought. Ducking her head, she let her hair fall forward.

“Then I assume you had met Dr. Foxworth?”

“No,” Emily said.

“Your parents had not brought you to the center?”

“No,” Emily quickly repeated, thankful that she could answer truthfully.

His voice was low. “You said her portrait looked familiar, yet you have no early memories of Dr. Foxworth?”

Emily couldn’t answer. She attempted to shrug, but it ended in another shiver.

“That thermostat definitely needs adjusting,” Dr. Isaacson said. Emily heard him get to his feet and peeked out from under her hair to watch him do something with the thermostat, then return to his chair.

Squeezing her hands together tightly, Emily asked, “Why are you asking me about Dr. Foxworth?”

Dr. Isaacson’s eyes widened in surprise. “I was trying to put you at ease through friendly conversation before I got to the point of your visit.” He paused before he continued. “We try to help our students reach their individual potential, so we stress individuality. In your case we hope to help you see that there is no need for you to feel you must match the individual talents of your older sisters. You can learn to discover your own talents and expand your own horizons.”

He seemed to be waiting for a response, so Emily nodded, although she wondered why so many teachers, and now Dr. Isaacson, had come to the conclusion that she felt she had to match what Angela and Monica had done. She loved her sisters. She was proud of them. But she
didn’t want to be like them. She couldn’t be. The idea of being noticed, of being on a stage—the center of attention—that was what she hated and avoided.

Dr. Isaacson said, “Taylor Farris apparently had her hair bleached and curled to match your hairstyle. Was there a reason for this?”

“No!” Emily raised her head defensively, trying to sit taller, and brushed her hair back from her face.

“Had you planned this project together?”

“No, sir,” Emily answered. “She surprised me.”

“Did she tell you why she made an attempt to look like you?”

“She liked my hair.”

He frowned a little, as if the answer didn’t satisfy him, so Emily tried to think of an answer that would. “Taylor told me she likes the way my hair falls around my face.”

“And you can hide behind it.”

“Yes. Oh. I mean …” Emily stopped. She felt herself blushing.

“You’re aware that you use your hair like a shield against the world?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dr. Isaacson smiled. “Good,” he said. “Being aware of your reason for doing something you wish to change is the first step toward making that change. You’re a bright girl, Emily, and while you’re here at Camp Excel we’ll help you discover abilities and talents you didn’t realize you had.”

He paused, but when she didn’t answer, he asked, “Where do you think you can excel, Emily?”

Startled, Emily blurted out, “Why do I have to excel? Why can’t I just be me?”

“You have a good mind. You have potential and the
ability to excel, once you believe in yourself and find the direction you need to take. Will you let us help you?”

“Yes,” Emily said. She had no choice but to give him the answer he obviously wanted.

“Do come to any of the staff if you have a problem or a question, and you’ll have our undivided attention. Many of our teachers, such as Dr. Hampton and Dr. Anderson, were with our educational center when it opened and helped develop our unique and highly successful approach to learning.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, recognizing that the discussion was over.

“And please remember to eat properly,” he said. “We want you to feel well. No more fainting spells.”

He stood, smiling, and Emily obediently got to her feet.

She left his office quickly, feeling eyes staring at her back. Were they Dr. Isaacson’s eyes or the glazed eyes in Dr. Amelia Foxworth’s portrait? Why had Dr. Isaacson questioned her about remembering Dr. Foxworth? What did he and the rest of his staff, who obviously shared everything they heard and saw, know?

This is too much for me to handle by myself
, Emily thought.
I need help
.

Maxwell, Haley, and Taylor were waiting for Emily in the lobby. Taylor’s newly blond hair had been cropped short, a thick gauze pad taped to the back of her head.

Taylor struck a model’s pose and said, “Ta-da! No concussion, no problems, and not much hair left. How do you like the new me?”

Stricken with guilt, Emily said, “Oh, Taylor!”

“It’s not so bad,” Taylor said, “although it’s going to
take forever for my hair to grow, especially where they shaved it in the back. Why’d I have to be so clumsy?”

Emily felt a tear roll down her cheek, and she angrily brushed it away. “Taylor, what happened to you was not your fault,” she said. “It was my fault.”

“I didn’t tell her what you told me,” Maxwell said to Emily.

“Tell me what?” Taylor asked.

Haley’s eyes widened, and she asked, “Tell her what? What in the world are we talking about?”

“About what really happened to Taylor,” Emily said.

Still shaken by her conversation with Dr. Isaacson, Emily jumped as a hand was placed on her shoulder and a voice spoke close to her ear. “Is everyone all right?”

Emily pulled away, gasping.

Dr. Lydia Hampton stepped back, saying, “Oh, dear. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, Emily.”

“I’m okay,” Emily managed to say. She wondered if Dr. Hampton had overheard their conversation and would ask about it. Nervously, knowing her voice was too high-pitched, Emily began to babble. “We were talking about Taylor’s new look. Short hair. You know. Curly around her face. Except in back, which isn’t really around her face. I mean …”

Dr. Hampton put an arm around Emily’s shoulders, as if to steady her, and said to Taylor, “I’m so sorry about what happened to you today. Thank goodness Maxwell was on hand to pull you from the water.”

“Yeah. He saved my life, like in the movies or on TV,” Taylor said happily. “He’s my hero.”

Maxwell tugged his cap farther down over his eyebrows and ears. “I just happened to be at the right place at the right time,” he said.

“You were very brave and did exactly the right thing,” Dr. Hampton told him. She bent her head to look down at Emily. “How about you, Emily? Are you feeling better now?”

Realizing that she was beginning to sound like a recording, Emily repeated, “I was just hungry.”

“So Mrs. Jimenez said.” There was a pause; then Dr. Hampton asked, “How did you like Dr. Isaacson’s beautiful office? The decorator had scarcely finished by the time Camp Excel was ready to open.”

Nodding agreement, Emily said, “It
is
beautiful. Especially the tapestry and the flowers.”

“I personally like the cozy seating arrangement at the other end of the room,” Dr. Hampton said. She smiled as she added, “I’m not too fond of those large formal portraits hanging there, however. Too imposing. It might have been nice to have still-life paintings. Flowers and fruits. What do you think?”

Emily’s face grew hot. Embarrassed, she just shrugged and said, “Whatever.”

Dr. Hampton turned to the others. “The portraits are of the founders of the educational center, Dr. Isaacson and his partner, Dr. Amelia Foxworth. I wish you could have met Dr. Foxworth,” she said, and Emily felt Dr. Hampton’s fingers tighten on her shoulder. “She was a wonderful educator who would have had a great deal to offer if she had lived.”

“What happened to her?” Taylor asked.

“Dr. Foxworth died in a tragic fall,” Dr. Hampton said.

“Like I almost did,” Taylor said.

“Yes, I suppose there were certain similarities.” She patted Emily’s shoulder and looked at each in turn. “Please be careful while you’re here at camp. It’s very
important that our—that Dr. Isaacson’s theories about achievement in education be made public so that the work done by him—and the staff, of course—will get the recognition it deserves. A serious accident that would detract from the success of Camp Excel would be deeply regretted.”

Emily realized that she wasn’t the only one who didn’t know how to answer. Silently, they watched Dr. Hampton leave, and Emily wondered if Dr. Hampton had been truly concerned for their welfare, or if they had just been given a warning. Why had she spoken about Dr. Foxworth and her portrait?

Haley leaned close. “I found a wonderful purification rite,” she said. “Let’s go back to the room. There is no time like the present.”

“Now?” Emily asked.

“Now,” Haley said.

“What’s a purification rite?” Taylor asked.

“A ceremony. A charm. A way to protect Emily from evil,” Haley answered.

“How about me?” Taylor asked. “I’m the one who got my head bashed open.”

“I suppose we can include you, too,” Haley said. “I got the ritual from a
curandero
’s Web site, and it didn’t say anything about being for just one person.”

“I want to be there, too,” Maxwell said.

“Yes,” Emily said. “You can come with us. But before we get into whatever it is Haley wants us to do, there is something I have to tell you.”

“What?” Taylor asked.

“Not here,” Emily said. Although she looked from side to side and saw that no one else was nearby, she lowered her voice. “In our room.”

———

A few minutes later, after Maxwell and Taylor had been given the chairs and Emily and Haley had perched on the bed, Emily said, “I have never told anyone, even my parents, that I have no memories at all of the year I was eight years old.”