Shadows Burned In (17 page)

Elizabeth hadn’t even wondered where the story came from. It
just . . .
was
. “I don’t think I understand
.
”

“That’s okay,” he replied, the smile returning. “Not many
folks do. Else stories like that wouldn’t ever get started. Least you’d hope
that was true.”

She shook her head. The old man was talking like an adult
now. They were entering you’ll-understand-when-you-get-older territory.
“Well—what
was
she like?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not from here. I just live
here.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes again. She could tell he was
baiting her, but she bit anyway.

“Well, what do you
think
she was like?”

“Well now,” he said, his eyes lighting up, “like I said, I
don’t rightly
know
. But if I had to guess . . .” He looked around.
Despite the dusky haze of the early evening, some light still crept into the
corners. “I’d guess she was a hardworking woman, looking at that big used-to-be
garden out back. There’s a rusted-out tractor in the garage, but you can tell
by looking at the engine—when you open it up, that is—it was well taken care of
for a long time. I didn’t see no children’s bones anywhere, so either she was a
very
neat
witch, or those stories were maybe a little too tall for the
truth.”

“Her husband left her and she worked the place alone,”
supplied Elizabeth. It was a tidbit of Michael’s story she hadn’t really
thought about till now.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“And she died watching television, sitting in this very
chair?”

“Yes.”

“So what, dear Watson, can we conclude from these facts?”

She looked quizzically at him. “My name’s
Elizabeth
.”

He looked quizzically at her. “You never heard of Sherlock
Holmes?”

She shook her head.

“I take back the good stuff I said about your schooling,” he
muttered. “They’ve shortchanged you, girl.”

“Whatever ‘shortchanged’ means,”
her 3V voice snarked.

“Okay, answer the question,” he said. “Forget the Watson
part. Put the facts together.”

Elizabeth put her mind to it. It seemed like a game to her
now. “Her husband left her. She kept up her own garden. Kept her equipment in
good order. Loved watching her shows on television.”

“That’s the stuff on the left side of the equation. What
about the right?”

It struck her then. “Maybe she was lonely. Maybe that’s the
stuff she did to keep from feeling alone all the time.”

He didn’t smile, which she thought he would’ve done if she’d
gotten the right answer. Her monitor did that at webschool. “Positive
reinforcement,” he called it.

“Well, like I said,” he said, “I didn’t know her. But that
sounds about right from what little I know
of
her.”

Elizabeth turned her eyes down to watch her hand petting the
dog. She’d been stroking her fur while they talked, but now she felt a
particular need for something soft and pleasant.

“I wonder why people tell the other story about her
,
then. I mean, she wasn’t like that—a witch, I mean—was
she?”

“I’m guessing not,” the old man said. “But folks believe
what they want to. It’s how they stay sane. Most everyone believes that black
is black and white is white, only each person really defines the colors in
their own way. And sometimes—like with Old Suzie, I’m guessing—sometimes they
agree on what’s true and what’s not, and that becomes the reality of it.”

She looked at him with that confused expression again. “I
don’t understand.”

He sat back in his chair. “Well if you don’t now, kiddo, you
might one day.”

“Okay, that’s as bad as ‘You’ll understand when you’re
older,’”
her 3V voice moped.

“That’s not fair. If you don’t help me understand, you
shouldn’t make me feel bad for
not
understanding.”

The old man muttered agreement. “That’s a fair thing to say.
All I meant was, most people decide what something means—or what someone
is—without bothering to find out what’s true and what’s not. Without
thinking
,
really. People tell stories about a person when they never even know that
person.” His voice turned flat, spitting out the words to get them out of his
mouth. “They’re like sheep. Baa-baa-baaing their way through life without
saying anything meaningful. And whatever they
do
say is often hurtful to
someone else. Cuz they usually speak from fear and ignorance, not a thoughtful
place.”

Now, that was something Elizabeth understood. Without
asking, her father had simply assumed that the monitor’s call yesterday had
been bad news.

“Because it usually is,”
admonished her 3V voice.

Yeah, okay
, she answered back,
but yesterday it
wasn’t.
And her father hadn’t even bothered to find that out.

“To find out the truth is always more difficult,” the old
man was saying, bringing her attention back. “It takes more effort. And people can
be lazy by nature.”

“I understand now.” She felt her nose starting to run and
realized then that her eyes were tearing up.
Why didn’t Daddy just
ask
me?
Why did he assume the worst?

“Yes, I think you do,” Rocky said. “Good for you.”

She nodded, beginning to stand. “I think I better be getting
home now. My parents are going to be pretty worried.”

“It
is
getting dark out there,” he
said,
nodding
.

“Well,” she said, hesitating as the dog looked up at her
without raising her head from the floor.
She really does look like a hairy flounder
,
Elizabeth thought. “Maybe I can come back tomorrow. If I’m not
grounded
,
that is.”

“That would be nice. It’s nice to have people around, now
and then.”

The dog perked up and panted at Elizabeth. Her vote seemed
to confirm the old man’s.

“I’ll see,” she said, turning to walk back through the
kitchen. Then she stopped and considered the front door. The moonlight streamed
in through the half-rotten wood but lit her path well enough that she wasn’t
too afraid of going that way. And it
was
the shorter route for getting
home.

“Oh yeah, let’s rush
that.
Man, you’re in so much
trouble,”
her 3V voice pouted.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she whispered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she answered him. “I’ll try to come by tomorrow.”
She walked past the old man, through the parlor, and into the entryway.

“All right then,” he said as she passed.

A hallway was to her left and a door on either side, just
before she got to the foyer.

(just like in the dream)

“Weird.”

She stepped onto the porch, but before pulling the door
closed behind her, she said quietly, “Sorry, Suzie.” Then she walked out into the
grass, brainstorming about what her punishment might be.

So focused was Elizabeth on her parents’ wrath she failed to
notice that, unlike in her dream, the porch had been quiet beneath her feet.

Chapter 16

The moon was a solid disc reigning over the smaller stars in
the sky. Elizabeth’s skin tingled under the crisp air.

But it wasn’t so much the cold as the fear that gave her
goose bumps. Walking along the street toward home, Elizabeth pondered how bad
it would be when she got there.

Her father would lay into her. He’d yell at her for, first,
getting kicked out of school for the day and, second, leaving the house that
morning without telling her mother. And then he’d ask her if she knew she’d
done wrong, and after she’d admitted the sin, he’d give her penance and grant
absolution.

The penance would probably be the revocation of her 3V
privileges for a week. Some kids didn’t care about that. Some even reveled in
the fact that they’d
earned
the punishment. Not Elizabeth. If she could
avoid the confrontation, she would. If she could short circuit the yelling prior
to the punishment being doled out, she would. And she would take the punishment
and be grateful it wasn’t worse. The routine of that cycle was what she was
used to. It was almost comfortable. Because there was always worse.

The gravel crunched under her feet, and she kicked a loose
rock into the drainage ditch. The loss of her 3V privileges—that was the
cruelest punishment of all. Her parents thought it was fitting because they knew
she enjoyed the 3V tank and they thought if they took the privilege away, she’d
learn her lesson. She mulled that over as she walked the plank toward home.

Adults seemed to think the way they handle children is some
sort of super-secret recipe for creating a proper person, a formula that only
adults
really
understand. They think all children know is they’ve been
bad and that being bad is, well, bad. Wasn’t it adults that performed the
psychological studies and monitored behavior? Wasn’t it the adults who mapped
the path to responsible adulthood through a process called parenting? But
children know what’s really going on.

We always know
, thought Elizabeth.

Adults who grow up and
remember
what it was like to
be a child realize this truth about the same time the generation behind them is
moving on to college. For Elizabeth the understanding had come early, a way of
keeping her sanity. It took on the firm shape of knowing exactly what was to
come. Punishment for the crime. Loss of her 3V privileges.

For Elizabeth, losing those was like losing her own imagination,
that safe place where she escaped the voices calling one another names in the
other room. When she became Elsbyth, the Warrior-Queen of Rheanna,
no one
could stand against her. Her Horse Companions looked to her for leadership.
They asked
her
what to do and
she
made the rules. There were no
dueling parents. No disappointed monitor. There was nothing but the world of
her own creation, a fantasy full of wondrous creatures and endless adventures where
conflict was a simple matter of good versus evil.

“But not for another week,”
her 3V voice moped.

They would take away her 3V games. And her father would
probably
enjoy
the thought that now she would spend her time studying as
she should. And her imagination would die for a week, a slow, emaciating death
of boredom and parental assault. Already she was looking forward to a week from
now, when she would ride again with wind in her hair, Horse Companions at her
side.

“Where the hell could she be?”

David Jackson was furious. He paced the living room with
only a floor lamp and the constantly changing video feed of the muted
Web
Report
lighting his path. “She knew damned well her monitor would call
about her dismissal. That’s why she ran. So typical. Refusing to face the
consequences. Refusing to take responsibility!”

Susan sat on the couch, focused on the arrangement of fake
flowers on the coffee table. David had been ranting since she’d told him about
the monitor’s call. At first she hadn’t said anything, hopeful that Elizabeth
would appear and the two of them would discuss her absence from school without involving
David. He’d turned on
Web Report
as usual to check the stocks but then, after
night fell, Susan had gotten worried and told him everything. For all she knew,
Elizabeth had been out all day. On the streets.

(what’s in your basket, Red Riding Hood)

Wandering around.

(something sweet . . . to eat)

With God-knows-who ready to take advantage of her.

“When that girl gets home I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” demanded Susan. Her mother’s protective impulse
was welling up inside her. Aware of her sudden hostility, David stopped in his
tracks, staring at her. Now that she had his attention, Susan went on. “You’ll
spank her? Put her to bed without supper? Take away her games?
What
?”

His face took on a fierce look, offended by the question. By
the
questioning
. Why was he always the bad guy, goddammit?

“I’ll make her understand what it is to leave this house
without
telling
someone. She’ll know what accountability is all about.
She’ll know what it means to—”

The back door opened to the kitchen, the hinges squeaking,
tattling on Elizabeth. David looked at Susan, who stared hard back at him.
Their eyes parried and dodged. David knew Susan was angry with their daughter
too, angry at Elizabeth for leaving without letting her know, angry at herself
for not noticing for hours, angry at him for daring to think of punishment when
all Susan wanted to do was wrap her arms around Elizabeth and welcome her home,
safe from the wolves in the forest. He listened to his daughter’s footsteps
trying to be quiet on the tile of the kitchen floor. He suddenly experienced a
profound sense of déjà vu. Doubt overcame him. Should he do what he thought was
right here? Ambivalence always plagued him when it came to disciplining
Elizabeth. He was keenly aware of his own baggage but unsure how to handle it.

David knew Elizabeth would be off and down the hall to her
room quickly if he didn’t intercept her. And if he was going to confront her,
he wanted to do it here, on
his
turf. And really, that was for her
benefit. Unlike her space in the house, the living room was a place she could
leave behind when she needed to.
Doesn’t she realize I think of things like
that?

“Elizabeth!”

His voice was short and loud. He thought of it as his
drill-sergeant voice. Not something she could pretend she hadn’t heard.

Susan was still staring at him, daring him to be too hard on
their daughter.
Don’t dare me
, he thought.
That’s dangerous
. And
then he realized his anger was directed at Susan, not Elizabeth. He promised
himself he wouldn’t let it affect what he said to the girl.

Elizabeth mounted the steps to the living room slowly. “Yes,
Daddy?” Her voice was light, lifted at the end with the question, trying to
soothe the savage beast with the music of her twelve-year-old voice.

“Come here, Elizabeth,” he said. David kept his voice as
neutral as he could. He really didn’t want to scare his daughter. He maintained
an image of the overbearing father-ogre in his mind’s eye to keep himself in
check. When someone two-and-a-half times your size yells at you, it’s hard not
to be scared. So he tried to control his voice. “Why don’t you sit on the couch
there, beside your mother?” He killed two birds with one stone with that. David
knew Elizabeth would feel safer next to Susan, and he knew the same would be
true of his wife.

Then he realized that he’d had that thought.

God,
safer? The idea made David’s skin crawl.
Safer
from
me?

“Your monitor called today,” he said, putting aside his sudden
feeling of self-loathing.

Elizabeth nodded, swallowing. “I know,” she said quietly.

“He said you were dismissed from class today because you
hadn’t prepared properly.”

She closed her eyes once, then opened them again. “Yes,
sir.”

He leaned forward in his chair and saw Elizabeth lean back
on the couch. Five feet at least separated them. And she’d leaned back. Away
from him.
God, safer from
me? he thought again.

He leaned back again. He put the footrest of his armchair
up. He hoped it would put them at ease.

“Why were you not prepared?” David formed his words
carefully. He wondered to himself,
How would a how-to parenting book ask
these questions
? He thought that trying to apply an objective standard to his
approach to the conversation might keep him from getting upset.

“I
. . .
” Elizabeth broke off. She
had tried the lie on the monitor and it hadn’t worked. And Mr. Skinner had
called her father, just like he’d promised. So her father would know all.
Nothing to do now but tell the truth. Take the punishment. Get it over with.

“Next week,”
her 3V voice said
.
“And we ride in Rheanna again.”

“I’m waiting.”

“I’d been on the
Web
.” Her eyes
began to well up.

“Good, that always helps,”
her 3V voice said. But
these weren’t crocodile tears. They were for the words she knew were coming.

“Mmmm,” her father said. “Mr. Skinner called. He said you
lied to him about why you weren’t prepared.”

“Goddamn that fucking prick!”
her 3V voice said.
Elizabeth was horrified at the words in her head, clenching her teeth to keep
the obscenities in her mouth. But they were her words. And despite their
nastiness

(Michael would be proud)

she couldn’t say they weren’t.

“He’s always out to get us!”

Nothing for it now but the truth
.

“Yes, sir.”

David lowered the footrest of his chair, and she tensed
immediately. Susan put an arm around her, stroking her shoulder, ready to step
between them if need be.

“That’s unacceptable, Elizabeth,” he said.

“Yes, sir.” She was crying now, her face crumpled in on
itself and flushed red, the wrinkles of her emotion hinting at her face as an
old woman.

“We paid for today’s class, and we’ll pay for the makeup
session before the end of the year,” he said. “You don’t take school seriously
enough. As a result, we’ll pay twice as much for the same amount of teaching.”

Elizabeth felt the mucous running thickly from her nose. She
reached a hand up to wipe it off. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, but her mouth
was contorted with her crying, and it came out as a long, baleful moan.

“Sorry’s not good enough,” he said, his voice rising.

Susan’s eyes began to speak through her mouth. “David—”

“When I need your input, I’ll ask for it,” he said, flitting
his attention briefly to her. Her eyes flattened, and he immediately regretted
having said it. Not because he was afraid of his wife, but because it would
only fan the flames of the situation higher.

His own fire was burning now, his fuse shortened by the
thought of Elizabeth failing in her education, failing
herself
in the
long run, something he never could get her to understand. It was so
frustrating! Couldn’t she see what was best for her? Couldn’t she understand
that what she did now would
mandate
the rest of her life?

“You must do better in school,” he said, leaning forward in
his chair. He tried to give his voice a helpful quality, like the adults in
those children’s educational shows he watched growing up.
This is the number
three. Threeeeeeee
. “Elizabeth, it’s not so much the money that bothers me”—and
he’d hoped to leave it at that but couldn’t help adding—“although that’s
something that your mother and I have to consider. But if you don’t turn your
performance around, the webschool will drop you. Don’t you understand, without
a good education early on, college is questionable, and then
everything
changes?”

Elizabeth formed the next line in her head a second before
her father spoke it.
You know, Elizabeth,

“if you don’t apply yourself, you’ll never”

amount to anything

“and you’ll end up”

serving drinks somewhere

“in some cyberbar.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, crying less as she reached the most
familiar point in the conversation. She knew the ending now. Not happy. But not
worse
either.

Her father sighed. “No Web privileges for a week. Use it for
school research only. And I’ll have the home computer print me daily reports of
your online activity to make sure that’s the case. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, beginning to cry again as a week
without Rheanna solidified into reality.

“I’ll keep you occupied,”
her 3V voice promised.
Teased, really.

“Go to your room,” he said. “I want you in bed by . . .” He
looked at the clock, and it showed 8:30. “I want you in bed, lights out, by
9:30
, understood?”