Others See Us

by William Sleator

  Eric was probably thinking the same thing. I didn’t check on it, not wanting to invade his privacy. But I still had the advantage; I knew I had to get to her before he did.

  “You’ve got a great body, Jared, but you’re white as a sheet!” a hoarse voice shouted from somewhere above us.

  It was Grandma, of course, up on the widow’s walk with her powerful telescope. One of her favorite pastimes was spying on the neighbors and people cruising by in sailboats and yachts. She had used the telescope so much over the years that she could actually read people’s lips with it, even through windows.

  “Morning, Grandma!” Eric and I both mouthed back, waving at her. I was also, of course, trying to peek into her head, but she was just too far away up there for me to get anything.

  “You start working on your tan this minute, Jared; those are my orders!” Grandma yelled, shaking her bright scarf at me for emphasis. “And keep away from that SPF fifteen sunblock crud. You’ll never get anywhere that way. Baby oil’s the only thing I ever use. Man, you wouldn’t believe what’s going on in that catamaran out there! Not to mention the terrible things they’re saying to each other,” she added with a guffaw, and grabbed the telescope again.

  “She’s got a great new ’scope now; you ought to take a look at it,” Eric remarked as we turned away.

  Aunt Grace and Uncle Ted, the youngest of Mom’s generation, were reclining in beach chairs. Amy was digging in the sand beside her parents. I quickly skimmed Amy’s mind, just for the cartoonlike fun of it. Amy wanted to be with Annelise, whom she adored more than anyone. And as usual, she was fascinated by the ocean, partly because she knew no one wanted her to get near it. She was quite clever about moving stealthily toward the water. I was good enough now to check people’s minds to see who was relegated to keep an eye on Amy. It was her parents, for a change, so I figured she had to be pretty safe.

  Aunt Grace and Uncle Ted politely asked me about Europe. I quickly realized that it didn’t matter much what I said, since neither of them was really listening to me. Aunt Grace was thinking about her abdominal muscles and her aerobics class. Uncle Ted was thinking about how much younger, better-looking, and more successful he was than Dad—and how pathetically drunk Dad had been last night. Any connection between me and Annelise did not enter their minds. They knew nothing about the journal.

  Things were looking up. I hadn’t found the other mind reader yet, but news of the journal hadn’t spread as quickly as I had feared.

  Amy was inching closer to the ocean. If Aunt Grace or Uncle Ted didn’t do something, I’d have to bring her back soon.

  Then I forgot about Amy, feeling another source of tension. Eric’s sister, Lindie, who was a year older than I was and swam vigorously every morning, was just emerging from the water. She was hefty, like Eric and Aunt Maggie and her father, Uncle Eric; Lindie wore a frilly one-piece suit to try to disguise the fact, though it really only made her look bigger.

  Lindie quickly wrapped herself in a big beach towel, feeling self-conscious. She was making an effort not to let herself get depressed about the difference between her body and Annelise’s. Lindie didn’t seem aware that her own face was actually quite pretty and that she had really nice auburn hair. Harvard, Harvard, I wish Mom would shut up about it, but at least now maybe they think I’m smart and ugly instead of just ugly, she was firmly lecturing herself, while thinking about holding her stomach in. And no way are you eating fried clams for lunch again today, just a salad, maybe some yogurt, enough lettuce will fill you up.…

  But all this was just on the surface. Underneath I was aware, more than yesterday, that Lindie was struggling with some kind of bleak, pervasive anxiety, more painful than her worries about her self-image. It was something she was making an effort not to think about, to push out of the way, and for that reason—even though I could read a lot more today—I still couldn’t get a grasp on it. But I was more curious now.

  “You have a great tan, Lindie,” I said, in an effort to bolster her self-image, and I was rewarded by a soft and appealing glimmer of pleasure.

  In the next second I was hit by Lindie’s sharp, envious resentment of Annelise, whom she saw as nasty and calculating. I was shocked. How could brilliant Lindie be so mistaken about Annelise? She was the only person in the family who didn’t regard Annelise as an angel.

  A moment later I understood. She and Annelise were the only teenage female cousins, and Lindie saw Annelise as someone who had been randomly gifted with great beauty, while Lindie herself had been just as randomly cursed with terrible ugliness. What was so sad was that Lindie had no awareness that she was attractive enough and that people were not constantly comparing her with Annelise. There was really no comparison.

  I was surprised by the inside of Lindie’s mind. I had always known she was intelligent, outspoken, and basically good-natured. Now I was aware of her deep, hidden worry, as well as her more accessible resentment of Annelise and her unrealistically negative self-image. If anybody might pick up any suspicions about Annelise and me, it would be Lindie. But I was already aware that she, too, knew nothing about the journal.

  So who did?

  Lindie and Eric and I wandered toward the jetty, away from Amy and Aunt Grace and Uncle Ted. “You looking forward to living in Cambridge next year?” I asked Lindie. “There’s always a lot of interesting stuff going on there.” I lowered my voice. “And you’ll be living away from home. I sure envy you for that.”

  “You remember I liked Cambridge when I was there for the interview,” she reminded me. “But you can never tell what a place is really like until you’re actually living there.”

  “Don’t let her kid you, she’s dying to get away from Mom and Dad,” Eric said, and I knew that was the truth. Then he added mournfully, “And I’ll be stuck with them by myself.”

  “You’re clever enough to twist them both around your little finger, Eric, my boy,” a voice rasped unexpectedly behind us.

  We spun around. Grandma had somehow managed to approach us without any of us being aware of it. “You’ll never guess what I just found out!” she announced, her excitement making her gasping voice even more breathless than usual. “The Winstons’ place is on the market! Not even an exclusive listing—three agents have the most garish signs right out in front. Not to mention, I read the lips of the agent who was just showing it when she quoted the price. What would I do without my trusty telescope? The Winstons will be lucky to make half the profit they would have a year ago—if they can unload it at all, that is.”

  It was an instinct now; I was probing deeply. And all I could find in Grandma’s mind was her already very apparent glee—she had despised the Winstons for years—at her neighbors’ misfortune. Unlike everyone else in the family, Grandma said exactly what she felt. I marveled at her absolute transparency, reminded of those superinvisible windows that birds are always mashing their brains against. Grandma was the only person I had run across who seemed to have no hidden thoughts at all—no shades, no curtains, not even the thinnest film of dust to let you know a glass barrier might even exist. Everything in her head just spewed right out of her.

  “How do you know somebody even worse won’t buy the place?” Lindie asked her, sensibly enough.

  “Not a chance. Who else would build a three-car garage right on the ocean, in the middle of my view? And that awful music they play!” She grimaced. “Nobody could be worse than the Winstons,” Grandma affirmed, and in her head there was only total assurance at this prediction.

  “I wonder if selling their house has anything to do with their claim that they were robbed,” Eric said.

  “Claim is the word, all right, Eric,” Grandma declared, waving her hand with celebratory aplomb. “I’m glad you’re thinking about words. Nothing carries more expression than the right word; Jared can tell you that. The Winstons’ maudlin claim was nothing but a pathetic cry for attention, and God knows why they made all that stupid fuss, since its only result will be to bring the price
of their house down even lower.” And she emitted her characteristic choking cackle.

  And then—how had I forgotten for so long?—I thought of Annelise alone in her cottage. I could see her parents still creeping out to sea in their sailboat, tacking laboriously back and forth on this very calm day. There was no way they’d be back in less than two hours.

  Eric was thinking the same thing. I didn’t have any time to waste. I had to get to Annelise before Eric did.

  And then I felt a bright glow of pleasure. It was from Amy, who was heading into the sea. “Hey! Come back, Amy!” I yelled.

  Everyone dashed toward her. I was the runner, but it was Lindie, radiating love and panic, who reached Amy first. She lifted her under the arms and carried her gently back to Aunt Grace and Uncle Ted. We all fussed over and chastised her. Lindie was at least as upset as Aunt Grace, and also furious at her, feeling that a negligent mother like Aunt Grace didn’t deserve a beautiful child like Amy.

  I was worried, too. What would have happened if I hadn’t sensed Amy’s entry into the water? What if Lindie hadn’t reacted so quickly? Why hadn’t Amy’s parents been paying more attention to her?

  Lindie was the only one who mentioned it. “How did she get so far?” She didn’t hide the anger in her voice.

  “Oh, you know how she is,” said Aunt Grace, not looking at Lindie, toweling Amy off. “You glance away for a second, and suddenly she’s just … gone.”

  “Annelise’s friend Bruce said I was a real good runner,” Amy said proudly.

  “Just don’t go in the water,” Aunt Grace told her.

  There was nothing more I could do to help. Amy was OK. Eric and Grandma were calming Lindie down: This was my chance to get to Annelise first. But what if she was with Bruce? I remembered, in a peripheral way, that he was a relative of the Winstons.

  “Gee, how long have I been out here without any protection?” I said, moving away from the group. “I better get something to put on my skin right away.”

  “Baby oil, Jared!” Grandma gasped, pulling a plastic bottle out of her big canvas beach bag and thrusting it into my hand. She looked at her watch. “Hey, I’d better make tracks,” she murmured. “Now where did I leave the car keys?” She hurried toward the house.

  I took off in the direction of the cottages. As I ran, worried about my journal again, a baffling question occurred to me: Only a mind reader could have stolen my journal, but why would a person who could read minds go to the trouble of physically stealing something like that? It would be much easier—and safer—to get whatever you wanted to know directly from the person’s mind.

  Annelise was home alone, it turned out, searching frantically for her journal.

  five

  I couldn’t help reading Annelise’s journal.

  I wasn’t spying; it hit me without warning, before I could avoid it. She was so alarmed at the possibility that I might have read her journal that she was mentally broadcasting exactly what the entries contained. And now I could see a lot more clearly into her mind than yesterday.

  “It’s just crazy,” she kept saying, sitting across from me on the couch with her hands clasped together. Her long black hair, which was usually perfectly groomed, was damply tangled around her face. “No one knew where it was hidden. No one had any idea my notebook might even exist—except you.” And she studied my face again, chewing at her luscious lower lip.

  My first impulse, when she answered the door and I knew at once what had happened, was to tell her right away that my journal had been stolen, too. But I had enough practice now not to make the mistake of reacting to information before it was given to me in words. I asked her what was wrong, I listened, and all the time the contents of her journal splattered and gurgled through my mind like toilet water. I was so stunned by what it contained that I could hardly speak, squeezing the plastic bottle of baby oil in my hands.

  April 5

  Dear Diary,

  Oh, my feelings were so hurt today! I found out that Chuck went to see Alien Headhunters III with Gail! He thinks she’s more fun than me? They think they can sneak around behind my back? They can’t think that; nobody can think that. I’ll just have to help them understand. I know I can find a way. Sam, who’s always looking at me that way, is Chuck’s best friend—or at least he has been until now. Wish me luck!

  April 6

  Dear Diary,

  I was so sweet and charming to Sam today. He’s starting to open up already. Keep your fingers crossed!

  April 8

  Dear Diary,

  It’s working! Sam knows how understanding and discreet I am—and what a good sport I am, how I appreciate boys’ type of humor. He loved the way I blushed and giggled when he described the personal things Chuck told the boys in the locker room about Gail, the jokes they made about her. I phoned Gail and helped her out by letting her know. She thanked me, before she broke down and had to hang up.

  April 15

  Dear Diary,

  Congratulate me! It’ll be a cold day in August if Chuck and Gail ever speak to each other again—and they’re both confiding in me now. Chuck had no idea how paranoid and hysterical she really is; he doesn’t know it was because of me that she showed her true colors. Poor, sweet Gail made a lot of slashes around her wrists; too bad they found her in time. Now they’ve got her on some kind of drug that makes her even dopier than usual; she was always about as bright as that Resussa-Annie doll we use in lifesaving class.

  May 3

  Dear Diary,

  Can you believe? Another stupid scene with poor old Dad—I kept trying not to look at his nose hairs. Same old thing again—too many boys calling me up, me staying out too late. So I told him what I heard Mom saying about him to Hilda on the phone yesterday. That kept them fighting for the rest of the evening and laying off me.

  May 18

  Dear Diary,

  Life is so unfair! No way I can get out of another deadly summer at the beach, a prison there with the boring, ugly old relatives always around and that loathsome nuisance Amy they’ll be expecting me to take care of—I wish she’d just drown and get it over with. At least they all realize I’m Miss Perfection. Except for that cow Lindie. Have to figure out some way to get at her. There’s also a few other people I can maybe play some cute little tricks on. Like hunky Bruce over on Indian Neck; hunky and rich—they’re the most important family in the neighborhood. Hope I won’t be saddled with pathetic little Jared; hope the runt won’t be tagging along like last summer, interfering. The good news is his family won’t be there until July. And maybe I can provide a fun surprise welcome for him that will keep him out of my hair when he does get here. I seem to remember they never bother locking up the shed where he keeps that old bike he’s so attached to.…

  June 5

  Dear Diary,

  Oh, what a busy, productive day I had yesterday! You would have been so proud of me. My charming conversation kept Eric so fascinated on the beach that he completely forgot about sunscreen. Now Eric’s sick in bed, a gorgeous shade of vermilion against those tasteless yellow sheets. Then I decided to create a thrilling adventure for that bleached blond Dee-Dee, who’s running after Bruce. All I had to do was let most of the gas out of her family’s outboard motor. It wasn’t my fault she decided to go out just before that freak squall blew up. Or that the coast guard got to her too late. The bitch shouldn’t have gotten in my way. Of course, I made sure to act more upset than anyone else in our family.

  July 4

  Dear Diary,

  I can’t wait to tell you! Can you believe Jared is a hunk? If I’d known, I might not have messed up the brakes on his bike. Oh well, he survived. It’s going to be a real spicy summer after all. Having Jared to play with, knowing Bruce and Eric are also slobbering over me. It’ll be fun sneaking around them and the whole family, too. Like Jared’s father—all I had to do was slip him those two extra triples, and he had no idea Jared and I were sitting right there holding hands. And everybody thinks I’m kindly Mi
ss Perfection meaning nobody any harm. Except for that Harvard cow. But you know me. I’ll get something on her. She’ll learn.

  I sat there dumbly, clutching the plastic bottle, my stomach cold. How had I missed so much of what she obviously must have been thinking the day before?

  Partly it was that my perceptions had been so hazy then, compared with what I could pick up today. But it also seemed that Annelise really had been impressed by my new appearance. Her powerful involuntary reactions were what I had been aware of yesterday. It must have been later on that the lying, scheming part of her brain took over.

  And Lindie was the only one who had seen through Annelise. Not because she was the other mind reader; Lindie knew nothing about my journal. She was just far more perceptive than I had ever realized. She was also honest and tough. It was clear from Annelise’s journal that Lindie had not hesitated to let Annelise know, at least since last summer, how she really felt about her.

  I was aware of Annelise’s cunning now, clicking away underneath her outward panic like a movie projector displaying a horror film. She was interpreting my stupefied behavior as proof that I was the one who had taken her journal.

  And what made it even more painful was my sharp awareness of how I looked to Annelise at this moment. I wasn’t handsome anymore; I was a pale, grublike clod who had stumbled into an intolerable position of power over her. Uppermost in her mind was the craving to wrest this power away from me, after which she would squash me in the dirt like the disgusting oversize bug I had become.

  She smiled. And even now her smile wrenched my heart. “All you have to do is give my notebook back, Jared,” she said, her voice softly persuasive. “Of course, I’m dying to know how you got in here without setting off the alarm and how you found the hiding place so fast. But that’s not the important thing now. What’s important is for you to give it back to me right away, like a good boy.” She sighed unhappily. “And I thought I could trust you, Jared,” she said, sounding wounded. “You know the last thing I want is to tell the whole family how you kept grabbing at me on the beach last night.”