Shadows 02 Girl in the Shadows

by V. C. Andrews

  to make such promises to her knowing he was

  inevitably going to leave much sooner than she ever

  imagined he would? I made a mental note to ask him

  about that later.

  By the time we arrived at the mall, school had

  ended for the day and many of the students were

  already gathering at their favorite mall stores, pizza

  hangouts, and the arcade. I took Echo directly to the

  shoe store first to buy myself a new pair of running

  shoes. I remembered all the things Brenda had told me

  about good running shoes and sought them out,

  Afterward. I bought Echo a bread pretzel and a soda

  and just had a diet soda myself. She was intrigued by the other girls her age and couldn't take her eyes off them while they flirted with boys and giggled. The worst wallflower wasn't as outside of teenage society as poor Echo was. I thought. I should know. I had

  been one.

  Once again, she was fascinated by the kids in

  the music store listening to music and riffling through

  CDs. To my surprise she wanted to go in. I had no

  idea what we would do there. but I agreed. She went

  to the racks and, watching how the others were doing

  it, began to sift through them, picking one out and

  reading about the artist or the band as if she was really

  thinking of buying it. I stood by smiling to myself

  until, imitating the others, she put a CD on a player

  and then put a pair of earphones on herself, too. How

  sad. I thought. If my heart were made of glass, it

  would have shattered in my chest.

  When I tried to sign to her, she turned her back

  on me quickly so the others couldn't see and discover

  she was deaf. She nearly pulled it off, too, but she

  caught the eye of a boy about a year or so older than

  she was and he sauntered over to her. He smiled at her

  and began to talk about the music she was playing. I

  could see her desperately trying to read his lips, but

  her fear of speaking poorly and his slightly turned head made it impossible for her to go on with her fantasy much longer. I saw the confusion in his face and so did she. She turned to me quickly in

  desperation and I had no idea what to do or say. Instead. I moved in quickly and took the

  earphones off. stepping between her and the boy. "What are you listening to?" I asked her, and

  put on the earphones. I grimaced. "You think this is

  good?" I asked the boy.

  He glanced at Echo and then at me, his face

  filling with annoyance.

  "I wasn't talking to you." he said. "I was talking

  to her." He then sidestepped to ignore me and asked

  Echo who she was and where she went to school. He

  wanted to know why he hadn't seen her before. Was

  she a new student?

  I tried to prompt her, but she was too nervous to

  pick up the signals and he immediately caught her

  looking at me instead of at him.

  "What the hell's going on?" he asked, his

  suspicions building.

  "Nothing. Bug off," I said. I signed to Echo that

  we should leave quickly.

  He caught my hand movements and his eyes

  widened.

  "What are you doing?" He looked at her and

  then at me. She can't hear?"

  "That's right, smart ass." I said.

  "Then why was she... what are you, both nuts?"

  He shook his head and backed away as if we could

  infect him with some strange new disease.

  I hurriedly put away the CD and seized Echo's

  arm to turn her toward the door. The boy was already

  describing us to his friends, who all looked our way. I

  heard their laughter. Echo looked back and saw their

  faces of ridicule. Her face quickly fell into an

  expression of total embarrassment. For her it was truly

  as if she had been caught naked. I tried to walk us

  down the mall corridor faster, but it was too late. The

  small group of teenagers decided we were to be their

  entertainment for the afternoon. We were too unusual

  to be ignored and a great alternative to their ordinary

  mall activities. They charged out of the music store

  behind us, a small clump of kids, laughing and

  hooting, which only attracted more attention and more

  of their friends.

  No matter where we went, they tagged along,

  anxious to catch me signing to Echo, who by this time

  was so frightened and confused, she was trembling. I

  searched desperately for the nearest exit and directed her to it, hoping that when they saw we were leaving, they would get bored and return to their own interests. But they were probably bored with themselves. I thought, for they weren't discouraged. By now there were nearly twenty or so of them following us and the scene was attracting everyone's attention, store clerks, adult customers, and security guards. Like nails to a

  magnet, other teenagers joined the moving mob. Because we left the mall from a different exit. I

  was momentarily confused about where I had parked.

  I started in one direction and then another. Echo now

  clinging to my arm with a sickening desperation. We

  couldn't shake off the hooting and jeering kids. One of

  the younger, bolder girls behind us ran to catch up and

  stepped in front of us.

  "Why was she listening to music if she's deaf?"

  she asked with a wide grin on her face. She practically

  screamed the question so the others would hear. I tried

  to ignore her, but she followed alongside and repeated

  the question, punctuating it with a louder "Huh?

  Well? Huh?"

  Finally. I stopped and turned on her. The others

  drew closer. "You're a very cruel person, you know

  that," I said.

  "Cruel? You're weird. Why did you bring her to

  a music store?"

  "Because she's never been to one!" I screamed

  at her. She took a step back. "She's your age and she's

  never heard music. She didn't even see a music store

  until recently and she wishes with all her heart she

  could be like you and be like them." I said. Gesturing

  at the group behind us. "She was pretending, all right?

  She was just pretending that she didn't have any

  disabilities at all."

  "I still think that's stupid," the girl replied,

  angry now that I had made her retreat,

  "That's because you're stupid. Its a shoe that fits

  and fits well," I said. "Now just leave us alone. Go

  back to your own deafness."

  "Huh? My own deafness? What's that supposed

  to mean?"

  "Figure it out," I said, and moved Echo

  forward,

  "You're weird! Nuts! Freaks!" the girl shouted

  after us. A chorus of "Freaks" followed.

  For the first time. I thought Echo was better off

  being deaf.

  I couldn't wait to get us back into my car and

  drive off. I had a fear they would get into cars and

  follow us. but I didn't see any automobiles rushing out after us. so I finally relaxed. Echo looked as if she had retreated into a very private, dark place. She was curled up in her seat, her head down. I had no idea where I should take her now. I simply continued driving until we reached Healdsburg. I drove into the town and, seeing an arts and crafts fair in the square, pulled into a parking spot and
asked Echo if she would like to walk about the booths and see the things people were selling. She looked very timid and still frightened, but I urged her to go, hoping to show her good things and wipe away the bad experience we just had. Hesitantly, she got out of the car with me and we began walking through the square looking at the pottery, the paintings, and the handcrafted jewelry. I

  stopped when I saw a collection of dream catchers. It brought back memories of Peter Smoke. the

  Indian boy I had met in school when I lived with

  Brenda in Memphis. He had given me a dream

  catcher. but I had left it behind when I fled Brenda's

  home.

  "What is it?" Echo wanted to know.

  I couldn't think of all the signs for the words I

  needed. so I borrowed a pen from the handicraft artist

  and wrote it all out on a slip of paper for her, just the

  way I remembered :Peter Smoke had told me about it. The Indians believe that the night air is filled

  with dreams both good and bad. The dream catcher,

  when hung over or near your bed swinging freely in

  the air, catches the dreams as they flow by. The good

  dreams know how to pass through the dream catcher,

  slipping through the outer-holes and sliding down the

  soft feathers so gently that many times the sleeper

  does not know that he orshe is dreaming. The bad

  dreams, not knowing the way, get tangled in the

  dream catcher and perish as soon as the sun comes up

  the morning.

  She read the note and smiled with incredulity.

  "Really? Does it work?" she wanted to knaow. I

  nodded and then I bought her one.

  "We'll hang it over your bed and you won't

  have any more nightmares," I told her.

  She blushed. I imagined she was thinking about

  the night she crawled in beside me. I thought about it,

  too. Was there any difference between the sexual

  excitement I had felt then and the excitement I had

  felt with Tyler? There were still questions about

  myself I desperately needed to answer, and I knew I

  wouldn't find the answers in books or magazines or

  even talking with more experienced women. These

  were answers that had to be discovered by myself

  within myself.

  We continued through the arts and crafts

  festival, pausing to watch an artist create a sculpture

  out of clay, another painting someone's caricature, and

  another showing how she had woven beautiful

  blankets. There was a booth where you could have

  your picture taken and put on a mug. Echo thought

  that was terrific. so I had both our pictures taken and

  put on mugs.

  "We'll drink from them tonight," I told her

  when they were completed.

  She was smiling widely again, laughing and

  enjoying herself. Thank goodness for the fair. I

  thought as we reached the other side of the displays. I

  was turning her so we could make our way back when

  I caught sight of Skeeter and Rhona coming out of a

  tavern at the corner of a side street. Afraid Echo

  would see them or they would see us, I quickly moved

  to block her from view, When I glanced back. I saw

  that two dark-haired men, both stout and rough

  looking, had followed Rhona and Skeeter and were

  now facing Skeeter and speaking to him with large,

  threatening gestures. They were backing him up, one

  stabbing him repeatedly with his finger in Skeeter's

  shoulder. I hurried us along the path of booths. telling Echo we had better get home before her grandmother

  got worried.

  As soon as we were home. Echo couldn't wait

  to tell her grandmother about the fair. She mentioned

  nothing about the mall and neither did I. She went,

  instead, into a long explanation about the dream

  catcher and the mugs.

  "It's very nice of you to buy all that for her,"

  Mrs. Westington told me. "Let me reimburse you." "No, please. They're my gifts to her." "That's very nice of you."

  The house was filled with the wonderful

  aromas of all the food she had been making while we

  were away.

  "Something smells delicious," I said. "I decided to think of this as a form of

  Thanksgiving," she said. "Maybe if I change my

  attitude, things will be better. Maybe, just maybe, that

  girl's been turned around enough to set her eyes on a

  decent life for herself here. I fixed a turkey, my

  special garlic mashed potatoes, cranberries, and

  asparagus, which used to be Rhona's favorite

  vegetable. I took out one of the pies I had frozen as

  well, the apple. We'll put some ice cream on it. too.

  Rhona used to love that."

  She explained it all to Echo and then she asked

  us to help set the table. I saw that Trevor was

  definitely going to be at this dinner, which made me

  happy. Echo considered it all to be a big party, a

  celebration and confirmation that her mother was back

  for good. I decided not to say anything about what I

  had seen back at Healdsburg. I really didn't know

  what it was all about anyway, and for the time being I

  saw no reason not to hitch a ride on Mrs. Westington's

  train of hope. I was just so happy she could get herself

  to be optimistic after all that had happened.

  To Mrs. Westington's deep disappointment,

  however, Rhona and Skeeter did not return, nor did

  they call to say when they would be back. Trevor,

  dressed in what were obviously some of his nicest

  clothing, arrived at dinnertime. He saw from the look

  on my face that all was not well,

  "Just sit yourself down. Trevor," Mrs.

  Westington told him. "We won't be waiting dinner on

  anyone who doesn't have the decency to call." Nevertheless. I saw how she procrastinated and

  tried to delay the actual start of the meal. Finally, at

  nearly seven-thirty with no word from Rhona, she

  decided to begin, and Echo and I helped her bring out

  the food. Rhona and Skeeter's empty place settings were difficult to ignore. Hoping to change the mood.

  Trevor raved about the food and so did I.

  "I'm past the age where I need compliments,"

  Mrs. Westinton said.

  "You need compliments till the day you die."

  Trevor countered. "Everyone needs a pat on the back

  now and then."

  "Well. I won't hear of it," she said. "And I don't

  need to be treated like a disappointed child. I was a

  fool to harbor any expectations and waste my energy." "You mean, you didn't do this dinner for me,

  April, and Echo?" Trevor teased.

  She gave him a look that could sink a battleship

  and he roared with laughter.

  "I have a madman on my property," she told

  me.

  Actually. I thought Mrs. Westington was more

  depressed because of Echo's disappointment than

  because of her own.

  Such an elaborate and joyous family dinner as

  the one Echo had envisioned with her mother present

  was probably a dream. She nibbled on her food and

  had to be continually pressed to eat more.

  "I wish that girl wouldn't have come back,"

  Mrs. Westington finally muttered. "She's only m
ade

  matters worse by giving the child hope.'

  After dinner Mrs. Westington permitted Echo

  to do more of the cleanup than usual. Trevor waited in

  the living room to challenge Echo to a game of

  checkers, something they often played in the evening.

  She played, but she kept looking toward the windows,

  hoping for headlights to indicate her mother's arrival.

  It didn't happen and she finally grew tired enough to

  go upstairs to bed. The sadness brought on fatigue as

  well. Trevor and I looked at each other. Now that I

  had the chance. I told him what I had witnessed in

  Healdsburg.

  "There's the distinct possibility they're gone,"

  he whispered. "Run away."

  "I hope so," I said. Looking at Echo's face. I felt

  cruel for saying it, but every instinct in me told me

  that I wasn't wrong to have that hope.

  I followed Echo up because I saw in Mrs.

  Westington's face that she would like me to do so to

  be sure Echo didn't burst into tears and cry herself to

  sleep. One of the most moving things I saw and

  probably would ever see was when I stood off to the

  side and watched Echo signing her bedtime prayer.

  She did it slowly enough for me to understand she

  was praying more for her mother than for herself. After she crawled into bed. I hung her dream

  catcher and she smiled. Of course, she wanted to

  know why her mother had not come home.

  I explained that to be fair to her, she didn't

  know her grandmother had made such a wonderful

  dinner.

  "If she had called, she would have known," she

  correctly reminded me.

  I nodded and, struggling for some excuse, came

  up with the idea that she probably had met many of

  her old friends again and wanted to renew her

  friendships and catch up on the news. For now. Echo

  accepted that. She gazed up at the dream catcher again

  and closed her eyes with an expression of comfort and

  self-assurance on her face. She hugged Mr. Panda.

  too. I watched her for a while and then I went

  downstairs. Trevor had zone to his own quarters. Mrs.

  Westington was alone. She was listening to music and

  knitting.

  "I do it just to keep the arthritis at bay," she told

  me. There was still a half hour to go before I would

  meet Tyler at the motor home. so I sat with her. She

  was quiet, but then she suddenly put the knitting down

  and turned to me. "I know I'm not long for this world,