“Those bands all sound alike. What difference does it make?”
“None,” Jeff said. “Except that it wasn’t a band. It wasn’t even a radio. There was a western on television with a lot of yelling and shooting. You wouldn’t forget that.” He released his grip, and she jerked her arm away from him as though she had been burned. His own right hand flew to his pocket. “I brought you something. I was going to give it to you at school today. It’s the necklace from Helen. I fixed the clasp.”
“I don’t want it,” Lia told him quickly.
“It’s the fetish, the eagle! It’s a defense against evil spirits from the skies! You were wearing it the first time you projected. Was that why your body stayed safe?” His voice had changed in tone. It was no longer sullen, and his eyes were bright with suspicion. “Are you Laurie? Or is Meg right after all? Are you her ‘ghosty’? Are you Lia?”
He pulled the fetish from his pocket and held it high. Lia’s eyes focused upon the thin silver chain with the bright blue bird in its center, and she drew back with a gasp.
“Get that thing away! I told you, I don’t want it!”
Her hand whipped out and struck the chain from his fingers. Caught by surprise, Jeff stumbled backward, grabbing out for some kind of support, but his hands closed upon empty air. He struggled frantically to keep his balance as his bad leg went out from under him, and he went down in a sprawled heap.
Instantly, Lia was in motion. Before I could fully take in what was happening, she had caught up one of the fallen crutches and was swinging it above her head like a battle-ax. I lifted my voice in a silent scream as I realized her intention.
Megan’s cry was an echo of the sound I had not made. Moving with a speed unbelievable for someone so small and plump, she bent and snatched the fallen necklace from the dock where it had landed when Jeff lost his grip on it.
“Go away!” she shrieked. “Bad thing, go away!”
Drawing back her stubby arm, she hurled the fetish straight at Lia.
It struck her solidly across the throat, and in that fraction of a second, something happened. Lia seemed to stop and stagger. The crutch slid from her upraised hand, and as it fell, that hand became my own. Abruptly, the resistance was gone, and I felt the astral cord snap tight with a jerk so powerful that I gasped in pain.
And I heard it—that gasp! It wasn’t silent!
I could speak! I could cry! I could feel!
The freezing air of winter stung my face. My right wrist throbbed at the spot where Jeff ’s strong fingers had dug into the flesh. I stood, immobile, stunned by the sensations I was experiencing, so long familiar, yet suddenly so new.
“I’m back!” I cried. “I’m home!”
I listened, ecstatic, to the sound of my own voice ringing out triumphantly. Then I pitched forward, laughing and crying like a mad thing, into the haven of Jeff ’s upraised arms.
So we have come full cycle. My eighteenth birthday passed while I’ve been writing this, and it’s September again. I’ve met my self-imposed deadline, and this story is complete.
But is it? In life there are no real endings or beginnings. Where is the true beginning of this saga? At the moment when I first saw Lia? At our birth? At our conception? Or centuries before that, when the first picture of an astral body, hovering over a physical one, was painted and placed in an Egyptian tomb?
So much is left unanswered. I wonder often about Helen. I received a short, formal note from Mr. Tuttle about a month ago telling me that she was well and would be repeating her senior year at a school on the Shiprock Reservation. She still has no memory of the time they spent in New England. He asked me not to try to contact her.
“There are some things better put behind us,” he said.
What lies ahead for Jeff and me? We haven’t seen each other for months now. In May, Jeff ’s father remarried, and Jeff had surgery at a hospital in Boston. It was successful, though more surgery will be needed. He’s staying with his mother until his doctors feel he’s ready for the second operation.
Jeff writes, “I’ll never be a pretty boy, but, thanks to your parents, I’ll have another crack at looking human.”
A new chapter of his life is in the making. Will there be a place in it for me? Or was I meant to play a particular role at a certain time, a girl he loved when other girls wouldn’t have him?
And Lia? What about Lia? I know she dwells at Cliff House. I don’t see her, but I feel her nearness. At night I hear her, or think I hear her—a stirring of the air by my pillow—a rustle in the hall outside my bedroom door. Faint and soft, in dreams I hear her whisper, You, Laurie! I blame you!
What is it that she blames me for? Why does she stay? What is she waiting for? She knows I won’t be foolish enough to project myself again. She has a body of her own. Why doesn’t she return to it?
Those were the questions I discussed with Megan. They were answered, surprisingly, by my father.
He came in one night and sat down on the end of my bed.
“I’ve got some news for you, Laurie,” he said. “I’m afraid it will upset you, but I think you should hear it. I’ve been on the phone with Arthur Abbott.”
“How did you know about him?” I asked.
“I checked out a long-distance call that turned up on the phone bill. The call history listed the number. He and I talked for quite a long time. He told me about your call to him. I haven’t shared this with your mother, and I don’t intend to.”
“What is the news you were talking about?”
“Your twin was ill,” Dad said. “Extremely ill.”
“I know that already. Mr. Abbott told me.”
“She was evidently in the habit of sleeping heavily during periods in the daytime. One afternoon she went to sleep and didn’t wake up.”
“Didn’t wake up?” I repeated. “That can’t be, Dad. I’m sure a week later—”
“You don’t understand,” Dad said gently. “There were no vital signs. There was no breathing, no heartbeat.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t understand,” I told him. “Maybe it seemed that way, but eventually I’m certain she regained consciousness.”
“The body was cremated, Laurie,” my father told me. “I know how upsetting this must be for you, but I thought you should know so that you’ll stop this compulsive search of yours. She’s gone. It’s over. Please, accept that fact. From what Mr. Abbott told me, she wasn’t a person you would have wanted to know.”
Is my father right? Is it really over? How far does light fade? Does it ever completely vanish, or does it linger on, faint and indefinable, forever?
If there were a mile-high mountain of granite, and once every ten thousand years a bird flew past and brushed it with a feather—
I will not think about the subject of eternity.
In one more week, I’ll be leaving for college. For me, as for Jeff, a new phase of life is starting. That is what I will concentrate on. Life continues, and we all keep changing and building, toward what, we cannot know.
But for now, not because I mean it, but because I have a writer for a father and know from his example what a manuscript should look like, I will write—
THE END
Q&A with the Author
Young adult author Jenny Han sat down with Lois Duncan to ask her all about
Jenny: Many fans cite this book as their favorite Lois Duncan novel—including me! Why do you think Stranger With My Face is so beloved by your readers?
Lois: The concept of astral projection is intriguing, and I haven’t seen it addressed in books very often. Certainly, back when this book was first written, it hadn’t been. Besides, from a technical standpoint, I think it may be the best written of my young adult novels.
Jenny: How did you become interested in astral projection? Have you ever tried it yourself?
Lois: I haven’t “tried” it, if by that you mean, have I made a deliberate effort to experience it. But I have spontaneously experien
ced it on several occasions when I was under extreme stress. It wasn’t the way I described it in Stranger With My Face, which I wrote before having experiences of my own. In my case, I would wake at night to the strange sensation of heavy vibrations starting in my feet and moving slowly up through my body to center in my chest. Then I’d experience the sensation of being manually lifted, as if I were in a hospital bed with a back that could be raised mechanically. A moment later, without having moved a muscle, I would find myself in an upright position. When I looked down at my bed and saw my body lying there, I would snap back into it with a jolt. I had no control over this phenomenon, as Laurie and Lia did in my book. And it hasn’t occurred very often. However, I’ve heard from several young readers who have experienced it. All of them said it happened in their very early years and ceased when they became school age. They said they had taken it for granted and assumed that everyone experienced it, so they’d never even bothered to mention it to their parents.
Jenny: Are Brighton Island and Cliff House based on real places? If so, I want to visit Brighton Island!
Lois: So do I! It’s an imaginary island; although subconsciously I may have based it on Nantucket, back in the days before that island got so populated.
Jenny: Lois, you often write about writers. In Summer of Fear, Rae’s uncle is a writer, which is why his family is secluded in the Ozarks. In Stranger With My Face, Laurie’s dad is a writer, and they live in Cliff House, which is also pretty isolated. Are you also that kind of writer—the kind who needs solitude and a closed door?
Lois: Are you kidding? I raised five noisy, demanding children, with a sixteen-year age difference between the oldest and the youngest. For most of my life, the only solitude I had was when I was in the bathroom. My writing habits have acclimated to fit my situation. I’ve written with babies on my lap, with boom boxes blaring, with hamsters who had escaped from their cage racing over my feet. It’s only now that my children are grown and my husband and I live quietly in a condo facing out upon an inland waterway that I have the luxury of relative solitude when I’m at the computer.
Jenny: The glimpse into Navajo culture is fascinating, and in the end, it’s what saves Laurie. Do you have any ties to Navajo or Native American culture?
Lois: I spent most of my adult life in New Mexico, surrounded by Navajo culture.
Jenny: Do you believe that an object, such as the necklace, can truly be so powerful?
Lois: That question is hard to respond to, because Stranger With My Face is fiction, and the part about Lia invading Laurie’s body was a product of my imagination. I’ve never heard of such a thing actually happening. In that imaginary situation, the power of the fetish is no less improbable than the situation itself. But I do believe that symbolic objects may be endowed with a certain energy—not of themselves—but injected into them by people who sincerely believe in them. Like the beads of a rosary. Or candles on a birthday cake. Or the bread and wine at Communion, which is held in certain churches. Or a wedding ring. It’s not the object itself that holds the energy; it’s what that object represents.
Jenny: One of the many reasons I love this book is Jeff Rankin—moody Jeff Rankin with the comic-book face and the wounded soul. Do you think he and Laurie eventually ended up together? Please say yes!
Lois: I fell in love with Jeff Rankin when I was writing the book. It would be a lovely fairy-tale ending to have Jeff and Laurie end up together, but realistically, I think that’s unlikely. They’ll both go to college. They’ll have new experiences, meet different people, and move on in different directions. But they’ll never forget this experience that they shared, and their friendship will never waver, even though they end up married to other people.
Jenny: The end in general is a little bittersweet. Laurie still feels her sister’s presence at Cliff House, she doesn’t reconnect with Helen, and the romance isn’t certain. Did you always know the ending would be somewhat melancholy?
Lois: I knew where the plot would take me, as far as what would happen to Lia and the way in which Laurie would be saved. And I knew I wanted to have Jeff’s face restored so he could live a normal life. But I didn’t think all the way through to the emotional impact of the ending. I just let that happen in a natural way. One chapter of life ends—another begins—you can’t tie a bow on the package and call it complete, especially when the characters are so young. So I let the ending be realistic. Laurie doesn’t know what will happen next. She has a whole lifetime lying ahead of her, as does Jeff. Each will find his or her own way. Will it lead them back to each other? As I said, that’s unlikely, but it’s not impossible.
Jenny: How much, if any, outlining do you do before writing?
Lois: A LOT.
Jenny: Stranger With My Face is my favorite Lois Duncan book—which is yours?
Lois: Probably this one.
Jenny: So then, what’s your second favorite book?
Lois: Killing Mr. Griffin is the probably best of my realistic novels. However, I have to admit I’m personally drawn to books like Locked in Time and The Third Eye—stories that involve some element of the paranormal.
Jenny: What was particularly challenging about updating each book?
Lois: The biggest challenge in updating these stories and bringing them into the present day was the dramatic change in technology since the time they were written. Remember, some of these books were written in the 1970s. And a very strong plot element in many of my novels was the fact that the endangered heroines were unable to cry out for help. But today, most teenagers have cell phones. They can call—they can text—they have laptops and iPads—nobody is isolated. I had to find ways of getting rid of those communicative devices in book after book. And I couldn’t use the same method more than once, because people might read these new editions back-to-back, so they’d notice if I repeated myself.
Jenny: Many of your books have paranormal elements—did you go through a period when you were especially interested in these types of subjects?
Lois: I have always been interested in the paranormal. (That interest took on a new dimension in 1989, when my teenage daughter, Kaitlyn Arquette, was murdered and psychic detectives gave us more information than the police did.) But back when I wrote these particular books, I had not yet been personally exposed to the study of parapsychology. I considered it fantasy—yet wasn’t quite sure it was fantasy. I used it primarily because it made for good story material.
Jenny: Can you tell us a little about your writing process?
Lois: People often ask me, “Do you plot your books before you start, or do you let your muse be your guide and just go where you’re taken?” When you write in a genre, as I do, you have to lay out your plot ahead of time. There’s a basic three-part structure for all genre novels: (1) Someone the reader relates to (2) reaches an important goal (3) by overcoming increasingly difficult obstacles. That means that, in order for the reader of a young adult novel to relate to the protagonist, that protagonist must be a teenager. In regard to Step Two, the more important the goal, the stronger the story. The most important goal for anyone is survival, which is why mystery and adventure novels are so popular. The next most important goal is love and acceptance, which is why romance novels are popular, especially with girls. And, for teenage protagonists, there’s a third and very important goal—and that is to grow up. The protagonist must mature during the course of the book and therefore be wiser and stronger at the end of the story than in the beginning. Once you develop your characters and set the goals for the protagonist (in my case, I usually set all three goals, and therefore have a main plot plus two subplots all going at once), you set obstacles in the way of the protagonist so he or she has to overcome them to reach those goals. That movement to hurtle obstacles in order to reach the goals is called “pacing.” So there’s a lot of planning that goes into my novels before I ever sit down and actually start writing.
&n
bsp; Jenny: I’ve read all of your books many, many times, so I decided I would read the updated versions and see if I could spot the changes. Of course I noticed the cell phones and texting and e-mails, but I also noticed subtler differences, like name changes—Mother to Mom, Rheardon to Rolland. I think I know why but I’d love to hear it from you.
Lois: There were different reasons. Mostly it was to modernize the novels. When my children were growing up, most young people called their mothers “Mother.” Today they usually call them “Mom.” But when I went back and re-read those novels, I also realized that, for some unknown reason, I had tended to favor certain names. Perhaps I’d known people with those names and therefore was comfortable with them, so I tended to overuse them. I hadn’t realized I was doing that, because some of those novels were written ten or fifteen years apart. But now, reading them one right after another and seeing a last name like “Rheardon” pop up twice, I became very conscious of what I’d done, so I made the necessary changes.
Jenny: Can we dare hope to read an all-new novel from Lois Duncan in the near future?
Lois: I honestly don’t know what I’m going to write next. I’m in between projects, recharging my batteries.
Jenny Han is the author of several books for teens, including The Summer I Turned Pretty, It’s Not Summer Without You, and Shug, as well as Clara Lee and the Apple Pie Dream, the first book in the middle grade series featuring Clara Lee. She is currently at work on the final book in her summer trilogy, We’ll Always Have Summer.
Lois Duncan
Lois Duncan is the author of over fifty books, ranging from children’s picture books to poetry to adult non-fiction, but is best known for her young adult suspense novels, which have received Young Readers Awards in sixteen states and three foreign countries. In 1992, Lois was presented the Margaret A. Edwards Award by the School Library Journal and the ALA Young Adult Library Services Association for “a distinguished body of adolescent literature.” In 2009, she received the St. Katharine Drexel Award, given by the Catholic Library Association “to recognize an outstanding contribution by an individual to the growth of high school and young adult librarianship and literature.”