Others See Us

by William Sleator

  She smiled, and glorious fiery coronas arched with languid violence millions of miles into space. She was flexing her muscles, testing her strength. Her powers were greater than mine would ever be. I remembered what she had written in her journal about Dee-Dee, the girl who had died because of her: “It wasn’t my fault she decided to go out just before that freak squall blew up.… The bitch shouldn’t have gotten in my way.”

  I couldn’t stand it here. I rushed for the noisy, busy distraction of Grandma’s factory.

  And was greeted by vast silence. Spiderwebs dangled from the broken, rusting machinery; holes gaped in the ceiling. A few scraps of torn photographs lay half buried in the thick layer of dust on the balcony floor.

  I should have known. Grandma wouldn’t be allowed to operate on her own anymore. She’d be Annelise’s slave now. She had no choice. Annelise had all the information about Grandma’s crimes.

  And I was a lot weaker than Grandma. Annelise must have already read my journal and explored my mind. What particular information would she use to try to control me? I had to find out, or I’d have no hope of resisting her. Shielding my eyes, I jumped back to Annelise’s scorching parking lot.

  What do you think you’re going to do to me, Annelise?

  She was happy to answer my question. She blasted me with quotes from my journal—pathetic mushy entries about how much I loved her, my most personal embarrassing fantasies about her. Everyone in the family would know about them. I cringed on the pavement.

  And Annelise was so confident of her power that she wasn’t even hiding what she would do to Grandma. She would take possession of Grandma’s property and whatever money Grandma had as soon as she was of legal age. She would take control of the family, who would not resent her but see her as their kindly benefactress. She wasn’t exactly sure yet what Lindie’s role in her life would be, except that it would be miserably servile for however long Lindie lived. She wouldn’t expose Lindie’s secret immediately; she would wield it like an electric cattle prod.

  Quotes from her journal kept rolling sickeningly around in my head: “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.… 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.… Now Eric’s sick in bed, a gorgeous shade of vermilion against those tasteless yellow sheets.… Poor, sweet Gail made a lot of slashes around her wrists; too bad they found her in time.… 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 Miss Perfection meaning nobody any harm. Except for that Harvard cow. But you know me. I’ll get something on her. She’ll learn.”

  Annelise’s mind was too ugly to take for another instant. And there was something else I needed to know. I tumbled exhaustedly in on Grandma. I wanted the answer to the basic question that was more baffling than ever now: Why had Grandma wanted Annelise to be a reader?

  But there was no hint of a clue in the ruined factory, not even any torn photographs now, only endless spiderwebs and dust and dead flies sticking to my sweaty body as I searched the balcony floor. Grandma might be Annelise’s slave, but she was still stronger than I was, her shield unbreakable.

  But was Grandma’s shield also impenetrable to Annelise? I wondered blearily as my mind lurched back into the kitchen.

  Lindie was still squeezing my hand; this all had happened so fast that Lindie was only beginning to notice that nobody was talking.

  I looked into her mind. She was terrified; she was bewildered. She didn’t know how Annelise had discovered her secret, but she had no doubt Annelise would use it. Yet as much as she had always hated Annelise, I could find only a very small vengeful urge in Lindie to lash back at her. She was in a tough spot, and she wasn’t wasting her energy on useless feelings of hostility.

  She trusted me more than ever now. It was clear to her that I was no part of Annelise’s plan. I squeezed Lindie’s hand harder, and we stared at each other for a long moment. Then I dropped her hand, and we both picked up our glasses and drained them.

  Lindie took a deep breath and turned to Annelise. “What do you want, Annelise?” she said, and I remembered myself asking Grandma exactly the same question the day before.

  “The truth,” Annelise said without hesitation. “You take the blame for Amy’s almost drowning. The family has to trust me again. I’m sure we can easily convince everybody, since it really was your fault—and I was completely innocent.”

  Grandma, meanwhile, had whipped the empty beer glasses away and replaced them with full ones. Lindie took a long swallow, staring at Annelise, and I gulped down just as much.

  Lindie put down the glass and nodded at Annelise. “Of course,” she said evenly. “Just what I’d expect. Do you know you’re a prisoner? That you’re completely controlled by what other people think of you? I thought I hated you, and of course I always will hate you, don’t get the wrong idea or anything,” she went on, her tone surprisingly conversational. “But now I feel sorry for you more than I hate you.”

  Annelise smiled, forcing herself with effort to ignore Lindie’s remark. We’d be dealing with the rest of the family soon, and Annelise was getting into her role again. “Poor Grandma’s the one with the problem, not me,” she said pleasantly. “She didn’t understand what she saw with her telescope because she wasn’t wearing her glasses; everybody knows she’s always forgetting where she puts them. She’s losing it. All the spiders in her house—yuck!” She moved her chair away from a little gray spider that was skittering toward her across the tabletop.

  Lindie and I had almost finished our beers already, but unfortunately I didn’t feel the least bit drunk. Lindie didn’t seem drunk either. I sniffed deeply at the glass.

  And I noticed, for the first time, something oddly familiar about the smell.

  “You all remember what really happened now?” Annelise said. “I asked Eric and Lindie to keep an eye on Amy, right? Jared was there when I said it; he heard every word. Then everyone else forgot about Amy. I was the one who remembered and saved her. And all of you let me take the blame when Grandma dumped it on me.” Annelise turned to Grandma. “You made a terrible mistake today, didn’t you, Grandma? And you’ll admit it. Otherwise you might have to admit to a few other things.” She tilted her head and slid her eyes to the side, folding her hands in front of her. “I’m sure everybody in town would be very interested to hear what you have to say about your friends the Winstons. Of course, because of Jared, all three of us already know what you did.”

  Lindie stared at Grandma, her eyes widening. It was finally sinking in on her that Grandma really had robbed the ATM and blackmailed the Winstons.

  Grandma hardly reacted at all to Annelise’s threat. She only stared blankly at the spider, which had changed course, moving toward Annelise again. I had never seen Grandma so quiet and passive. I darted into her mind another time, to try to find out what she was really thinking and how much she blamed me for what I had suggested to Lindie about her. But there was still only the ruined factory, telling me nothing. Either Grandma was hiding, or she was helpless.

  Annelise must have been in the swamp longer than Grandma. She wasn’t as clever, but she had more brute power. Did Grandma’s uncharacteristic meekness mean she was scared of Annelise? That thought made everything a lot more frightening.

  “OK, everybody?” Annelise stood up, wanting to get away from the spider. She strolled to the little mirror beside the sink, patted her hair, checked her expression. “You do what I’m asking, and your little secrets are safe
.”

  Lindie stood up abruptly. “All right!” she snapped. She was so scared of what Annelise could do to the rest of her life that being hated by the family seemed mild in comparison. She was going along with this because she thought it was only a single incident; she believed that acquiescing now would protect her for good. She had no idea what Annelise’s life plan was.

  “Good. You’re not going to be stupid and waste time. Let’s go.” Annelise started for the door. Grandma picked up the large canvas bag in which she carried her sunglasses and baby oil and other beach supplies.

  “Wait,” I said, knocking my chair over as I got to my feet. I just couldn’t stand to let Annelise get away with this. And what she had said about “your little secrets” made me realize that she really didn’t have anything to use against me. So what if the family knew what was in my journal? Stopping Annelise was a lot more important than my own embarrassment. I was the only one without a truly dangerous secret, the only one who could challenge her.

  Annelise spun around. “Yes, cousin dear?” she said, smiling at me.

  “Please, Annelise, be reasonable,” I appealed to her. “Why can’t we just say … it was everybody’s fault? Not one person in particular. We—we all take the blame.”

  She said nothing, continuing to smile artificially at me. I had to be tougher.

  “You know I can’t lie, Annelise,” I reminded her, trying to keep my voice steady. “You know how—how pathetic I am that way. I can’t say it was Lindie’s fault that Amy almost drowned; you were the one who did it on purpose.”

  I felt a glow of admiration from Lindie—quickly extinguished by a sharp gust of fear.

  “But that’s not the truth, Jared,” Annelise said earnestly. “And I know you want to help Lindie,” she added. “If you don’t do what I want, she’ll get axed, and it will all be because of you.”

  “Please, Jared,” Lindie said softly. And I read her, and I saw that as much as Lindie hated what we were being forced to do, she didn’t want me to try to resist. Because if I did, then Annelise would get her. Obeying Annelise seemed to Lindie the lesser of two evils.

  I picked up the chair and slowly set it in place.

  “Your little fit is over, Jared? You’re ready to go along with the truth? Good.” Annelise studied me for a moment, considering my problem with lying. “You don’t have to say much, you know. Just nod and agree with what Lindie and Grandma say and look sheepish. That should come naturally to you. Let’s go.”

  Annelise briskly opened the door; we stepped outside.

  seventeen

  And there was the sparkling sand, the waves rolling against the rocks, the members of our devoted family relaxing on the beach. There was also another boy, very tanned and good-looking in his cutoff jeans, sitting next to Eric. Bruce, nephew of the Winstons, whose family was the most important and influential in the neighborhood. Were we going to go ahead with Annelise’s plan, even with him around?

  We started toward the others. Amy ran to meet us, her round face pink and beaming with happiness underneath her short white blond hair. Soon Annelise would be trusted to take care of Amy again.

  Annelise knelt and hugged Amy. I marveled that she had the nerve to get anywhere near Amy in sight of the others, after what had happened. But it was just what an innocent person would do. It was a logical first step.

  Amy nodded, wide-eyed, as Annelise pressed her cheek against Amy’s for quite a long time. Finally Annelise stood up and took Amy’s hand, and we began walking again.

  Bruce beamed at Annelise, and she smiled back at him. But the people in our family were studiously not looking at us, out of embarrassment as well as shock and anger at what Annelise had done.

  Except for Aunt Grace, who was squeezing the arms of her beach chair, her eyes on Annelise and Amy.

  Annelise knew how they all felt, and she couldn’t stand it. Her toleration of their attitude toward her was reaching its limit; the burning coals were blistering her. They had to see her as charming and kind and trustworthy again, and it had to happen right away. “Hurry, Lindie and Grandma!” she whispered. “Tell them!”

  But before Grandma or Lindie could say anything, Aunt Grace got up from her chair and strolled over to Amy and Annelise. “Why don’t you just come over here with me, honey?” Aunt Grace said as she carefully disengaged Amy’s hand from Annelise’s, not looking at Annelise.

  “What’s the matter, Mommy?” Amy said, confused.

  “Annelise is too busy to play with you anymore,” Aunt Grace explained.

  “But Annelise is my friend,” Amy protested.

  “Just stay away from her,” Aunt Grace said, and everybody but Amy knew she was really speaking to Annelise. Aunt Grace put her arms on Amy’s shoulders and moved her back toward her chair.

  Everyone was staring at Annelise. “But Aunt Grace, you don’t …,” Annelise said woefully, watching her beloved Amy being taken away from her. Then she bravely straightened her shoulders and wiped her eyes, hurt and innocent. “Please, Grandma. Please, Lindie,” she appealed to them. “How can you go on … letting them think—”

  “Letting them think what?” Uncle George said, eyeing Grandma and Lindie suspiciously. He was Annelise’s father; he hadn’t liked seeing her take the blame for what happened to Amy.

  Grandma said nothing. She seemed paralyzed. Lindie knew she had to act now, or else Annelise would carry out her threats. She took a deep breath and marched over to Aunt Grace. “I’m—I’m sorry about what happened to Amy today,” Lindie began.

  And even though I knew the consequences, I couldn’t bear to watch Lindie do it.

  Wait, Lindie! Stop! I mentally cried out, so upset that I forgot she couldn’t hear me.

  Bruce was embarrassed about this family scene, but he was also curious, turning to look at Annelise, then back to Grandma and Lindie. Neither of them spoke.

  Annelise was in so much pain now from what the others were thinking about her that she just couldn’t wait. “Don’t you remember, Grandma?” Annelise said gently. “You didn’t see what really happened with Amy because you weren’t wearing your glasses when—when you were watching through the telescope. You told us that just now, in the house.”

  “Did I, Annelise?” Grandma said, her face expressionless.

  Annelise was boiling inside, her mind so scalding I could barely get near it. But she still had enough control not to let it show on the surface. “Yes, you did, Grandma,” she said, like a little child reminding a parent of a promise. “And … you also told me about your visits to the Winstons’ house.”

  Grandma coughed and put her hand to her mouth, almost dropping her beach bag. She didn’t seem to be expecting such a direct attack.

  “What are you talking about, Annelise?” Aunt Maggie wanted to know. “Mother never visits the Winstons. Everybody knows how much she—” Then she remembered Bruce and stopped in midsentence.

  “Hates them, Aunt Maggie?” Annelise finished for her in a small voice, giving the impression that she was merely being honest and straightforward about a difficult subject. “I didn’t say she visited the Winstons. I said she visited their house.” She turned to Bruce. “I think it’s really sad that your aunt and uncle decided to sell,” she said, as though she meant it. “Do you know why they’re doing it?”

  He shrugged and lifted his hands. “They say they’re nervous now, because of the break-in. We keep telling them they’re overreacting. I mean, nobody was hurt. Nothing valuable was taken. But they’re afraid of something.” He turned and looked at Grandma.

  “Grandma’s so smart, and she’s always watching them with her telescope. Maybe she knows something about it,” Annelise suggested.

  “Hold on a minute,” said Uncle George, who was so eager to see Annelise vindicated, and the blame shunted elsewhere, that he didn’t care that Bruce was there. “We’re getting off the subject. What were you going to say about Amy, Lindie?”

  “It was Annelise who saved her life,” Aunt Beatrice
put in.

  Aunt Grace was squinting at Lindie now. “Go on, Lindie,” she said impatiently. “You’re acting so funny. What’s the matter?”

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Grace,” Lindie mumbled again, looking miserable, and she sighed. But she had to protect Grandma and herself.

  Annelise had won. Her eyes were fixed on Lindie, her mouth twitching as though she were trying not to gloat. And how perfect for her that Bruce was there, as an added threat to Grandma and to make sure these secrets could not be kept in the family.

  “Well, Lindie?” Aunt Grace prodded her.

  But Lindie didn’t answer. There was a look of wonderment on her face as she turned to me.

  Don’t be so afraid, Jared, a sort of voice lilted like music inside my head. Not Annelise’s voice. Not Grandma’s voice.

  And then I knew what Lindie and I had really been drinking.

  eighteen

  Our house was beside a river.

  It wasn’t like Grandma’s elaborate constructions. There was nowhere to hide anything here. The place was hardly more than a covered porch, with comfortable mats on the bare plank floor. The river flowed past, sunlight and tree shadows rippling over the surface.

  This place was a refuge for Lindie and me, with no traps or shields. In a billionth of a second Lindie knew everything I did, about the swamp water, about Annelise, about Grandma. She understood it all.

  We had drunk the swamp water, not just been briefly dunked in it. Naturally its effects would be more potent.

  “Maybe I should go,” Bruce was saying. But he wasn’t moving. Nobody had told him that Amy had almost drowned, but he knew something had happened, and he was very eager to find out exactly what was going on. He was also extremely interested in what Grandma had to do with his aunt and uncle’s problems.

  Lindie and I hovered above and below and in the middle of the rest of the world, which seemed to be as transparent as glass. We felt the glow of Amy’s love for Annelise. We experienced the varying degrees of tension felt by everyone else in the family, and Bruce’s increasing curiosity. We knew what the worried real-estate agent was saying to the people looking at the Winstons’ house, who were insisting that the price was too high. We felt the primitive, jagged excitement of a cat three houses away that had cornered a terrified mouse. We heard Karen, the cabin attendant in the little plane two thousand feet above the beach, telling the passengers to fasten their seat belts for landing. She wasn’t thinking about what she was saying; she was thinking about her boyfriend, Mitch, in Boston.