“Go away,” I shouted. “I hate you!”
Miss Harrison appeared in the cloakroom doorway. “What are you shouting about, Annie? Haven’t you behaved badly enough for one day?”
Behind her, my classmates spun around to look, their eyes wide.
I reached out to Miss Harrison. Tears ran down my face, but I couldn’t speak because my head was spinning and so was the room. I felt as if were being sucked into a well of darkness. No one was there except Elsie, watching me eagerly.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a cot in the health room. Elsie perched on a chair beside me, obviously pleased to see me in trouble.
Nurse Evans leaned over me, her forehead creased into worry lines.
“Do you know where you are, Annie?”
“I’m in the health room.”
“Do you remember what you were doing before you fainted?”
I shook my head. “I took off my coat and my boots, my snow pants, mittens, hat, scarf . . .” I let my voice sink low and trail off.
“Do you remember being mean to Jane and sassy to Miss Harrison?”
I widened my eyes. “Why would I be mean to Jane? She’s my best friend. I’d never be rude to Miss Harrison. She’s my favorite teacher.”
While I stumbled through my denials, I felt Elsie pinch me. “I’m your best friend now,” she hissed. “And don’t forget it.”
Without thinking, I said out loud, “Go away and leave me alone!”
Nurse Evans stared at me, shocked. “I’m calling your mother,” she said. “I think you’ve come back to school too soon. A concussion often makes people irritable. They say things they don’t mean; they aren’t themselves.”
I tried to sit up, but Nurse Evans said, “Lie still, Annie, and rest. Your mother will be here soon.”
The moment Elsie and I were alone, I said, “You think you’re so clever, but I’ll never let you in my head again.”
Elsie smiled. “Too late, Annie. I’m already in your head—and I don’t plan to leave.”
From a corner, she watched me through narrowed eyes. I tried to stare back, but I couldn’t bear looking at her. Nurse Evans stood just outside the door, explaining my behavior to Miss Harrison.
“Oh, poor dear Annie,” Miss Harrison said. “I knew there must be reason. I’ll talk to Jane. She’s heartbroken.”
Elsie sniffed. “Jane hasn’t seen anything yet.”
I stared at the water stain on the health room ceiling and tried to make its shape into something interesting—anything to avoid thinking about Elsie. A face maybe. I studied it more closely and realized it looked like Elsie. Shutting my eyes, I waited for Mother to arrive.
On the way home, Mother took me to see Dr. Hughes. He spent a lot of time shining lights in my eyes and asking questions. When the exam was over, he said, “I don’t detect any signs of damage or lingering effects. Perhaps you simply need more rest.”
Mother told him about my visit to the library and the state I was in when I came home.
“That must be it. No more long walks until you feel like yourself.”
“Should we keep her home from school for a few days?” Mother asked.
“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Dr. Hughes said. “Annie’s missed so much school already. We don’t want her to fall behind in her studies.”
While he and Mother chatted, I looked for Elsie. I finally spotted her in a shadowy corner. She was studying a chart of the human skeleton as if she were looking into a mirror.
Dr. Hughes’s eyes followed mine to the spot where Elsie floated.
“What are you looking at, Annie? You’ve been gazing around the room as if you expect to see something.”
“There’s a cobweb in the corner.” I pointed. “Right there. That’s what I was looking at.”
Mother squinted at the ceiling. “I don’t see a cobweb or even a speck of dust, Annie, and even if I did, I certainly wouldn’t mention it. It’s impolite to find fault.”
Dr. Hughes laughed. “I think our Annie was just being helpful.”
Mother handed me my coat and all the other things I had to wear in cold weather. While I put them on, I felt her watching me closely. Elsie watched, too.
As we walked down Portman Street toward home, Mother took my hand in hers as if I were five years old again. “Annie,” she said, “are you certain you’re all right?”
“Dr. Hughes thinks so.”
Elsie was walking just ahead, barefoot, wearing nothing but her silk dress. Every now and then she floated about five feet off the ground and circled Mother and me.
“My,” Mother said, “how much colder it feels in this spot. It must be the shadow of the pine trees.”
Elsie grinned at me and made a face at Mother, who walked on, complaining about the cold.
At home, Elsie followed me upstairs and prowled around my room. Nodding to herself, she touched my dollhouse, my books, my bed, the lacy curtains. She opened the wardrobe and examined my clothes. She scooped up Edward Bear and made him growl.
“Yes, it’s all just as it was the time I visited,” she murmured, “the one day in my whole life I had a friend.”
Smirking at me, she picked up Antoinette, freshly mended and looking as perfect as the day I found her under the Christmas tree. Tipping the doll back and forth, she watched her eyes open and shut and listened to her cry “Mama, Mama.”
I reached for Antoinette, but Elsie tossed her aside. “You have everything I ever wanted. All I wanted was for you to share it with me. But, oh no, you were too selfish.”
The more Elsie talked, the angrier she got. “I needed you to be my friend. Was that too much to ask?”
“If you wanted me to be your friend, you shouldn’t have broken my favorite doll. You tried to make the other girls hate me. You wouldn’t let me play games or seesaw—”
“Oh, pish posh,” Elsie said. “You never gave me a chance to be nice. You shut me out of everything. You and those other girls. Why did you like them better than me? What was so special about them?”
“Annie,” Mother called from downstairs, “is someone up there with you?”
I left my room and scurried down the steps. “No,” I lied. “Nobody’s upstairs. I’m by myself.”
“It sounded as if you were talking to someone.”
I shook my head. “I was just playing with my dollhouse.”
Elsie floated down the stairs and blew cold air down Mother’s neck.
Mother shivered. “The house is so drafty tonight.”
Elsie paused at the front door. “Ta-ta, Annie. See you soon.” Grinning her terrible grin, she passed through the door as if it weren’t there.
“Don’t come back,” I muttered in a voice too low for Mother to hear.
The next morning, Jane came to fetch me just as she had yesterday, but there was no hug this time, not even a smile. She looked as if she feared I might snap at her again.
Perched atop a street sign on the corner, Elsie waved to me. While we waited to cross the street, Jane asked me what I was looking at.
“Nothing, nothing at all.” I raised my voice so Elsie would be sure to hear.
“Why are you shouting?” Jane asked. “Are you still mad at me?”
“Stop asking so many questions, Jane. It’s annoying.”
Jane studied my face. “Miss Harrison says you’re acting this way because of the concussion. It’s making you cross.”
“You’d make anybody cross!” I’d done it again. Elsie was in my head making me say things I didn’t mean.
“Well, pardon me.” Jane ran across the street and up the school steps. When I caught up with her in the cloakroom, she wouldn’t look at me. She’d been crying.
I wanted to apologize, but Elsie pinched me. “Who’s your best friend now, Annie?” she asked.
I glared at Elsie. “You’ll never be my best friend.”
“And I’ll never be your best friend,” Jane said, and left the cloakroom.
I wanted t
o run after her and explain I hadn’t been talking to her—but how would that sound? As far as Jane knew, she and I had been alone in the cloakroom.
Without saying anything, I went through the morning drill with the others. Roll call, Pledge of Allegiance, Lord’s Prayer. When we sat down, I saw Elsie’s flu mask on Miss Harrison’s desk. My stomach lurched, and I covered my mouth in fear I might vomit.
Miss Harrison held up the mask, holding it by two fingers as if she were displaying a dead mouse. “Rosie found this in her bookbag after school yesterday.”
Everyone stared at Rosie. From the tense way she sat, I knew the mask had frightened her.
Elsie smiled at me from the windowsill. Her desk was gone, so she no longer had a place behind me. I was the last one in my row.
“Rosie and I agree that someone in this room put the mask in her bag. I’d like that person to raise her hand and admit her guilt. I’d also like her to explain why she put it there. I don’t believe influenza germs survive in cold weather, but suppose they do? Suppose Rosie comes down with flu?”
The class sat so still I could hear the girl beside me breathing. The radiator hissed. Someone dropped a pencil. But no one raised a hand.
“Girls,” Miss Harrison said, “this is serious. It will not be taken lightly. Which one of you put the mask in Rosie’s bookbag?”
She looked up and down the rows of desks, staring hard at each of us. With clasped hands, I forced myself to meet her eyes, to look innocent. Annie Browne could not possibly have done such a thing. But her gaze lingered on me.
Miss Harrison sighed. “I expect a written confession to be placed on my desk by the end of the day. If it does not appear, you will all remain after school until the guilty person identifies herself. Now, open your geography books to chapter ten, page fifty-five.”
At ten, we were released for recess. Elsie floated behind me as I crossed the snowy playground. My friends huddled together by the swings. When they saw me, they didn’t smile or even say hello.
Rosie walked up to me. “You put the mask in my bag, didn’t you?”
I backed away, frightened by her anger. “Of course not. Why would I do something like that?”
“You were in the cloakroom all by yourself. It had to be you, Annie.”
The other girls, the whole class, actually, drew in around us.
“I didn’t do it,” I cried. “I swear I didn’t.” I was aware of Elsie sitting in one of the playground swings, her bare feet dangling as she pumped herself higher, a smug expression on her face.
“Did so,” someone shouted. “Did so!”
The first snowball hit me. Then another, then a fusillade. Scared of their anger, I turned and ran. They chased me, throwing more snowballs and screaming, “Did so, did so!”
The snowballs were hard, as if they’d been packed with ice. They hit my head, my neck, my back, my legs. I couldn’t escape. It was like being chased by a pack of wild dogs. I started crying. How could this be happening? Elsie was dead, but she was still ruining my life. Just as she’d predicted, my friends had turned against me. Now I was the one everyone hated.
Finally Miss Harrison appeared at the school door. The girls dropped their snowballs and stood still.
In the background, Elsie swung higher and higher. No one noticed the swing moving but me.
“What is the meaning of this behavior, girls?” Miss Harrison asked. “You know Annie had a concussion recently. You might injure her.”
Rosie stepped forward, her cheeks red from cold and anger. “Annie did it—she put that mask in my bag, but she won’t admit it!”
“I didn’t,” I cried, “I didn’t.”
“Why accuse Annie?” Miss Harrison asked.
“Because she was the only one alone in the cloakroom.”
Miss Harrison looked at me, long and thoughtfully. “Did you do it, Annie?”
“What if I did? Rosie’s mean and bossy, and I hate her!” Elsie was in my head again, speaking in my voice.
Elsie left the swing and floated to the top of a tree. From there, she watched us.
“Come inside, all of you,” Miss Harrison said.
Elsie drifted down like a falling leaf and entered the school behind Miss Harrison, imitating her walk.
As Elsie brushed past her, Miss Harrison shivered. “My, it’s colder today than I thought,” she said. “Much too cold for outside recess, especially for girls who behave like hoydens.”
As we took our seats, Miss Harrison summoned me to the front of the room. Elsie came with me, causing Miss Harrison to shiver again and button her jacket.
“Now, Annie, tell us why you put the flu mask in Rosie’s bag.”
“She made me do it.”
“Rosie made you do it?” Miss Harrison asked at the same time Rosie said, “I most certainly did not!”
I wanted to say I didn’t mean Rosie, but how could I? Elsie was breathing cold air in my face and freezing the words I wanted to say.
“Tell the class the truth, Annie.” Miss Harrison was cross with me. I’d never be one of her favorites again. “Why did you put the mask in Rosie’s bag?”
“To scare her, that’s all, just to scare her. She always pretends to be so brave.” I glanced at Rosie, feeling her hatred burning right through Elsie’s cold presence. “Look at her. She’s not as brave as she pretends.”
It was as if I couldn’t stop talking, even though every word I uttered made Rosie hate me all the more.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Annie,” Miss Harrison said. “Yesterday I blamed your behavior on the head injury you suffered, but I’m beginning to think I was mistaken. For some reason, you seem determined to misbehave.”
Before she sent me back to my seat, she told me to apologize to Rosie, but Elsie would have none of that. “Rosie deserved it,” I heard myself say. “Why should I apologize?”
Shock ran around the classroom like a swarm of wasps. I heard Jane gasp.
Miss Harrison looked as shocked as everyone else. “I want to see you after school, Annie Browne. I’d send you to the cloakroom, but there’s no telling what you might do there.”
Fourteen
HEN THE DISMISSAL BELL RANG, Rosie, Jane, Eunice, and Lucy lingered in the doorway long enough to give me hateful looks. Thanks to Elsie, who now seemed to control my face, I gave them the same nasty look.
Miss Harrison summoned me to the front of the room. She sat behind her big oak desk, and I stood in front of her. The real me was terrified. I longed to tell her about Elsie, but my new bosom buddy hovered above Miss Harrison and watched me closely. She wouldn’t allow me to say anything except what she wanted me to say. I might as well have been her puppet, dancing on strings she controlled and speaking her words with my voice.
“Well, Annie, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“I don’t like Rosie. It would serve her right to catch the flu. Elsie caught it. Why shouldn’t Rosie?”
“That’s a terrible thing to say, Annie.”
I leaned across the desk to look her straight in the eye. “You don’t know Rosie like I know Rosie. You wouldn’t believe the mean things she said and did to poor Elsie. She made that girl’s life a misery!”
While Elsie laughed, I leaned even closer. “In fact, it might even be Rosie’s fault Elsie died.”
At this, Elsie turned a somersault in midair.
Miss Harrison looked me in the eye. “What do you mean, Annie?”
“The day before Elsie came down with the flu, Rosie, Lucy, Eunice, and I were in the park. We saw Elsie all by herself swinging in a slow, sad way. She was wearing a flu mask. Rosie said, ‘Let’s get her,’ and she and the others started chasing Elsie and calling her names, but I didn’t because I felt sorry for Elsie. She just wanted to be friends with us, that’s all, but Rosie said she was a fat ugly Hun and she hated her.”
Elsie leaned over Miss Harrison and blew her cold breath on the back of the teacher’s neck.
“Something must be wro
ng with the furnace,” Miss Harrison murmured before asking me what happened next.
“They caught up with her, and Rosie grabbed the mask, and they trapped her in a circle and sang the ‘in flew Enza’ song. It was awful, Miss Harrison. I tried to make them stop, but they got mad and started calling me names too.”
I finished Elsie’s preferred version of the scene in the park by saying, “If Rosie hadn’t chased her, if she hadn’t stolen her mask, Elsie would probably be alive today.”
Miss Harrison said, “We can’t be sure, Annie, but I’m proud of you for sticking up for that unfortunate child.”
Elsie was now walking on her hands in circles around Miss Harrison’s desk. Her dress had fallen over her head, and I could see her lacy drawers.
I stepped back from the desk. Elsie had begun singing “I see Paris, I see France,” and I wanted to get her out of the classroom before she reached the rude part of the song. “Can I go home now, Miss Harrison?”
“Why on earth do you look everywhere but at me?” Miss Harrison asked me. “I don’t think you’ve looked me in the eye once during our entire conversation. It’s rude, Annie.”
I wanted to tell her I was watching Elsie, but if I did, she’d accuse me of lying. Or of being insane. No matter—Elsie let me say only what she wanted me to say.
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Miss Harrison frowned and tapped her pencil on her desk. “It seems to me I made you stay after school to punish you for something, but I can’t remember what it was.”
“I can go, then?” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Elsie heading for the cloakroom, and I was worried she might be planning a new prank.
“Yes, yes, go ahead, and please try to behave in class.” She smiled a little uncertainly. “You’ve always been one of my best students.”
Followed by my invisible shadow, I left school and walked slowly home.
“It’s no fun walking by yourself, is it?” Elsie asked.
I didn’t answer, just kept going, head down, hating Elsie more than ever. Poor, unfortunate child, indeed. She’d brought all of this on herself.
And now she was bringing it on me. It wasn’t fair. She should be picking on Rosie, not me.
One for Sorrow Page 10
