“You’re awfully quiet,” Gordon said. “You’re not still mad, are you? I thought we got everything straightened out.”
“It’s not that,” I told him. “I didn’t sleep very well last night, that’s all. There have been some things happening around our place that have me sort of scared.”
“You mean a prowler? Your parents had better start locking up in the daytime. As wrapped up as they get in the stuff they do, somebody could walk right in there and steal everything, and they’d never even know.”
He was repeating something he’d heard said in the village, I was sure. There were many people who thought the Stratton family was pretty strange. How could two people live like my parents did, shut away in an extravagant house on the tip of the island, with apparently no interest in anything except each other and their children and their work? Dad and Mom had never joined the Yacht Club, which was where most people went to socialize. Although they could easily have afforded one, they had never bothered to buy a boat, even a little outboard. They had permitted me to take out a junior membership at the Tennis Club, because all my friends played there, but they themselves never showed up to watch the meets. They didn’t go to Brighton Inn for dinner, and if they went to the beach, nobody knew it.
“My folks aren’t exactly stupid,” I said, trying to treat the subject lightly. “They’d know if people were tramping in and out of the house carting out the furniture.”
“Don’t joke, Laurie,” Gordon said. “I’m serious. Your mom’s up in her studio, and your dad’s cooped up with his computer all day, and they’re out of it. People probably could haul off the furniture without their knowing. And if you’re in the habit of wandering around by yourself at night, that’s not too smart either. All kinds of things could happen. You and I were outside for hours last night, and your parents never even stuck their heads out to check on you.”
“They trust me,” I said.
“That has nothing to do with it. What if you hadn’t been with me? What if some creep had sneaked up on you there on the rocks? Jeff Rankin, for instance?”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said irritably. “Jeff would never hurt anybody.”
“You don’t know that. He’s been really weird since the accident. Everybody says so. And if not him, then somebody else, some stranger. You’re so alone out there, you could scream your head off and there’d be nobody to hear you.” He tightened his arm around me. “I care about you, Laurie. I don’t want something to happen to you.”
“I know that.” The things he’d been saying were true, of course. We did need to start being more careful. But the girl—I had begun thinking of her as “the mirror girl”—would not be stopped by a lock on the door, of that I was certain. It was the only thing I was sure about.
I wished I could talk to Gordon, really talk to him, but I knew that was impossible. He’d think I was crazy, and maybe he would be right. Wasn’t that what crazy people did, imagine things that couldn’t be real? But if I followed that line of reasoning, then Gordon himself must be crazy, and Natalie, and my father. And Megan. What was it she had said? “You were up so high”? I had thought that was sleep talk, but now I wondered. Who was it she had seen last night, me or the mirror girl? What had she meant by my being “up high”? Gordon and I had been standing below her window.
“Where’s my sister?” I said, pulling back from the railing. “I need to ask her something.”
“What’s the matter with you?” Gordon said, stiffening. “Can’t you stand here and talk to me without getting jumpy? You don’t need to chase down Meg. You were with her at breakfast. It’s somebody else you want to go looking for, isn’t it?”
“Somebody else?” I repeated blankly.
“That guy you were on the beach with. It is, isn’t it? Is he one of the island guys? Look, Laurie, be honest with me. I told you about Nat—”
“Oh, Gordon, go to hell!”
There was a moment’s silence. I could not believe I’d snapped like that.
Then Gordon asked quietly, “Do you mean that?”
“No—no, I don’t. I’m sorry.” Here we were, back together again, and already I was wrecking things. What did I want to do, anyway, hand Gordon over to Natalie on a silver platter? He was suspicious of me, and why shouldn’t he be? He’d seen me with his own eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “Like I said, I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I’m tired and edgy, and you keep accusing me of things that aren’t true.”
“Okay, okay,” Gordon said placatingly. “Do you want me to go find Meg for you?”
“No,” I told him. “I’ll talk to her later when we land.”
But when the ferry docked there was such a hectic mass exodus that no one could have found anybody, and by the time I did see Meg, she was encircled by her cronies, all squealing and chattering and trotting off in a herd toward the elementary school.
The day had started badly; it continued to get worse. I forgot my locker combination and had to attend my first two classes without books, which did little to endear me to my teachers. I did manage to catch Helen in the hall after second period, and she worked the lock, so I entered third period with algebra book in hand, but my mind was in such turmoil that I missed every equation the teacher asked me to solve. In fourth period, English, I realized I had left that morning without any money or a lunch.
“Don’t worry about it,” Helen said as I shuffled through the contents of my purse. “I’ve got enough for both of us. You can pay me back tomorrow.”
So when the bell rang we went to the cafeteria together, which meant that after we bought food I had the choice of sitting alone with Helen as I had the day before or taking her with me to the table where the island kids were gathered. Either one was going to be a problem. There was an unspoken understanding that the students from the mainland sat at the table only by special invitation, which was pretty much decided on by the group as a whole. At the same time, now that Gordon and I had patched things up, it would seem strange for me to turn my back on them and go sit in the corner with some girl I hardly knew.
“Let’s take our trays over there,” I said to Helen, nodding toward the table.
She followed my gaze, surprised. “I thought you said that was a clique.”
“It is,” I told her. “But I’m sort of a part of it. At least, Gordon, the guy I go out with, is.”
“Which one is he?” Helen asked. “Not him?” as Blane Savage glanced up from his overloaded plate and zeroed in on us as we stood there, balancing our trays.
“No, Gordon doesn’t eat this period. He’s got B lunch,” I said. “But these kids are nice too. Come on, let’s go over. It’ll give you a chance to meet some people.”
It was a bad decision. I knew that the moment we reached the table.
“Hi, everybody,” I said, setting down my tray in the space across from Darlene. “This is Helen Tuttle. She’s new this year. This is Darlene—Blane—Mary Beth—” I continued to make introductions the length of the table.
Blane mumbled something that passed for a greeting and bit into his sandwich.
Darlene said, “Hello,” in that sweet, soft voice of hers that always sounded as though she were a little surprised. I watched her eyes go up to the top of Helen’s head, which was about four inches higher than mine, and work their way down over the rust-colored hair, the light blue eyes with their almost invisible brows and lashes, the pleasant, freckled face, the neck encircled by a silver chain from which there hung a little turquoise carving. Then they took the long plunge to the large feet, encased in socks and Converse. She and Mary Beth smirked at each other.
“Hi,” Helen said unself-consciously and began unloading her tray.
“Helen’s from the Southwest,” I said as I took my seat, hoping I didn’t sound apologetic. “She’s just beginning to learn what it’s like to be a New Englander.”
Mary Beth looked amused. “You don’t become a New Englander just by moving here.” She pau
sed and then added without much interest, “Where in the Southwest are you from, Helen?”
“Tuba City,” Helen told her. “That’s in Arizona on the Navajo reservation. My parents taught at the school there.”
“Wow!” Darlene exclaimed politely. “That must have been interesting.” Then she turned to Blane and started talking about the weekend sailing meet, and Mary Beth directed her attention to the other end of the table, and that was that for Helen.
Not that it seemed to bother her. She just kept on eating and didn’t appear to notice that she was being excluded from the conversation. She kept her ears open, though, and on the way back to class she said, “It must be great living on an island.”
“It is,” I told her. “It’s really beautiful out there. You’ll have to take the ferry over sometime before the weather changes and it’s too cold to enjoy the beaches.”
“That would be great,” Helen said. “When should I come?”
That was when I realized that Mary Beth had been right about New Englanders; you didn’t become one just by moving across the country. Nobody I knew would have taken my casual comment as an invitation for a personal visit.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said awkwardly. “Not this weekend. I’m going to be crewing for Gordon during the sailing race.”
“Any time that’s good for you will be fine for me,” Helen assured me. “I don’t know enough people yet to have made plans to do anything.”
“Let’s just leave it open for now,” I said, “and I’ll let you know.”
Even as I spoke, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get out of it. I was going to end up having Helen as a houseguest. And as good-natured and likable as she seemed to be, I didn’t want her to come. There was no way in the world she was going to fit in with the crowd from the island, and I had serious doubts about how she would go over with my parents. They were so protective of their privacy and their work schedules; entertaining an outsider wouldn’t be their idea of pleasure.
So the day dragged by with one stupid irritation piling on another. Little things, but provoking. The heel on my shoe came loose, and a bra strap broke. A gel pen came open in my purse and leaked all over everything. On the ferry ride back to the island, Natalie plunked herself down on the seat on the far side of Gordon to finish an “interesting conversation” they had started over lunch, and I suddenly realized that they shared the same lunch period and would probably be eating together every day. It didn’t exactly make me jealous. After all, they were friends, weren’t they? Why shouldn’t they eat together? Still, the thought of it made me uncomfortable, especially when I recalled that “couple of kisses” they had exchanged the night of Nat’s party and the fact that Gordon hadn’t seemed to feel all that guilty about it.
We separated at the landing area, Gordon and Nat and the rest of them all headed toward the village while Meg, Neal, and I headed out to Cliff House. Neal took off immediately on those winged feet of his, and I had Meg to myself.
“I want to ask you something,” I said to her. “Last night when I was pulling up your blanket, you said something about my being ‘up high.’ What did you mean by that?”
“I don’t remember you pulling up my blanket,” Meg said.
“That part doesn’t matter,” I told her. “You were half-asleep. But I went into your room, and you talked about my being ‘up high.’ You must have meant something.” I paused and then prodded gently. “You said you looked out the window. You were peeking at Gordon and me, right?”
“I was not!” Meg exclaimed hotly. “I didn’t even know Gordon was over. He never came in the house.” She was so outraged at my accusation that I almost believed her.
“He was over, though,” I said, trying to sound casual. “So if you looked out the window you must have seen us together.”
“I didn’t look out the window,” Megan said. “You looked in.”
“In your window? That’s impossible. I would’ve had to have been standing on a ladder.”
“That’s why I couldn’t understand,” Meg said. “You were up so high. How did you get up there?”
The strange thing was, her response didn’t surprise me. I had actually been expecting it. I was becoming numb to surprises. I felt the way you do when you’re moving through a dream and the most impossible things are happening and you’re accepting them as normal. Perhaps I was dreaming. Perhaps if I hung on long enough and kept myself calm and tried not to be too frightened, my eyes would snap open and I would find myself back where I had been yesterday on the morning after the stomach flu with school about to start and everything in my life in order.
But, of course, that didn’t happen.
As I was drifting off to sleep that night, I became conscious of the girl’s presence at my bedside. I couldn’t see her in the darkness, but I knew she was there.
“Who are you?” I asked her. “What’s your name? What should I call you?”
I felt her lean across me, and her breath was light against my cheek.
“I am Lia,” she whispered. “I am your sister.”
And then for many nights she didn’t come again, my sister Lia.
My sister Lia?
I had a small, plump sister named Megan Stratton, a light-haired little girl with sky blue eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. I had been there to welcome her when my parents brought her home from the hospital, tiny and red-faced, howling lustily from the depths of a fuzzy blue receiving blanket that had at one time been Neal’s. I had no dark, strange Lia for a sister. Even in dreams I could not, would not, accept her. She was no part of me.
“Go away!” I told her fiercely as she leaned across my bed. “Go somewhere else, whoever you are. I don’t want you here!”
And—she was gone.
There was no movement, no rustle of sound to signify her leaving. It was simply that one moment she was there beside me in the darkness, and the next, she was not.
I drew a long breath and let it slowly out again in a silent sigh, then turned my face into my pillow. I slept that night without dreaming. And the next night, and the next as well. By the end of the week I was able to tell myself that it was over. I was rid of the crazy obsession that had gripped me. The mirror girl had left me. I was free.
That weekend I crewed for Gordon at the sailing races. We came in third, because we had some problems maneuvering the final buoy. The following week I invited Helen to come out next Saturday to tour the island and stay overnight at Cliff House. Since the visit was inevitable, I could see nothing to be gained by postponing it. Besides, as the days passed, Helen and I were getting to be better and better friends.
To my surprise, my parents didn’t seem at all disturbed by the prospect of a houseguest.
“We can set up the air mattress for her in your room,” Dad said. “Just be sure she doesn’t expect to be entertained.”
“I’ve explained things to her,” I assured him. “Helen’s so easygoing, anything’s okay with her.”
“It’s nice you have a new friend,” Mom said, and she even made some vague reference to baking a cake “if I can get around to it.” I knew it wouldn’t happen, but the thought was hospitable.
It was Gordon who objected to the visit.
“You don’t mean you’re going to be stuck with her overnight?” he demanded irritably. “I thought we’d talked about going to a movie on the mainland on Saturday.”
“We can still do that,” I said. “Why don’t you try to fix Helen up with a date?”
“Somebody six-foot-ten with failing eyesight?”
“That’s mean,” I said. “She may not be drop-dead gorgeous, but she’s really nice. Rennie isn’t dating anybody special, is he?”
“Rennie wouldn’t be seen dead with Helen Tuttle,” Gordon told me. “He likes his chicks cute and cuddly. What have you latched onto that loser for, anyway, Laurie? Even the girls don’t like her. Mary Beth says she’s annoying as hell.”
“She isn’t annoying,” I corrected hi
m. “She’s just friendly. People are a lot more outgoing where she’s from. What about Tommy? He’s tall, and that summer girl he was going with went back to Vermont.”
“Forget it,” Gordon said. “It’s not worth the effort. I don’t want to spend Saturday night dragging Helen around. Have a great weekend with your new friend, and I’ll see you Monday.”
The conversation left me feeling depressed and sort of empty inside, but the sight of Helen’s face when she arrived on the Saturday morning ferry was enough to lift my spirits considerably. Her red hair was wild from the wind, and her eyes were shining.
“That was really awesome!” she exclaimed, clambering onto the dock and almost dropping her canvas overnight bag into the water. “Captain Ziegler—isn’t he Mary Beth’s father?—was great. He let me sit with him in the cabin and do part of the steering. And the rest of the time I rode up top where I could see all over! Do you know this is the first time in my life I’ve been on a boat?”
“You’re kidding!” I said incredulously.
“No, it’s true. The only water we had back home ran down the arroyos after a rainstorm. I can’t get used to the idea that you take a ferry to school the way I used to take a bus.” She drew in a deep breath of the sea air. “It smells so clean. You’re so lucky, Laurie, actually living year-round in this beautiful place!”
When she caught her first glimpse of Cliff House from the bend in the road, she was even more ecstatic. “It looks like a castle out of a fairy tale!” she exclaimed. The closer we got, the more enthusiastic she became. With each step up the curving stairway, she was gasping and exclaiming, and when we entered the living room, she gave a spontaneous cry of delight.