They’ve been taking turns getting up with Amanda; she’s so hot at night that her sheets have to be stripped and her nightgown changed at least once before morning. Tonight it’s Polly’s turn, but Ivan tells her to stay in bed. He follows Amanda’s voice down the hallway; she’s half asleep, she always is, and in the morning she won’t remember being lifted out of bed. When he changes her, pulling the flannel nightgown over her head, Ivan thinks about changing her diaper when she was a baby. He thinks about the smell of powder, the silky feel of her bare skin. Now, when he picks her up so he can strip the bed, Amanda smells bad, there’s a sulfury scent on her skin.
She has pink nail polish on her fingernails, but her hands don’t seem much bigger than they did when she was a baby.
■■■
An entire wall in the living room is taken up by tape equipment; next to the window is a piano that Brian doesn’t use anymore. The ivory is too cold; when he tries to play he feels that if he pushed a little harder his fingers would snap off at the bone.
■■■
Laurel was lucky to get a job in Morrow, and she knows it. With no real skills, other than the ones she’s taught Amanda, now that she’s given up her readings she has only the little income she gets from her parents’ estate. She’s lucky, too, that Marie Pointer, who runs the gift shop, is quite deaf, so that if anyone had told her not to hire Laurel, she probably wouldn’t have heard.
■■■
Laurel has always kept her distance from people in Morrow; her cottage is far enough out of town for her to be ignored. This is not the only place where she’s felt she doesn’t fit in. She’s felt that all her life; she’s well practiced at making herself as invisible as humanly possible. Today she’s wearing a pair of sunglasses, and her hair is wound up in a knot, but she was foolish enough to wear a white cotton dress, which makes her more noticeable.
■■■
Ivan was even more suspicious of Laurel than Polly was,- the only way Amanda got him to drive her out to Laurel’s house was to have a fit, complete with tears and threats of locking herself in the bathroom.
He doesn’t know what he expected, but he certainly didn’t expect Laurel to be so down-to-earth. As soon as he walked into Laurel’s cottage he realized it was exactly what Amanda would have chosen for herself if eleven-year-olds could have their own houses: it was all pink and yellow and wicker, with a cat who was allowed to leap onto the table and lick out mixing bowls. Ivan went to sit out in the Karmann-Ghia; occasionally he could see Amanda and Laurel through the window, mixing up something, their faces streaked with chocolate. Afterward, Amanda ran out to the car, her face shining. She carried a tray of little chocolate things, which Ivan slid into the back of the Karmann-Ghia.
“Tarts,” Amanda informed him.
He didn’t care if Laurel Smith was a kook if she could make Amanda look so happy over a bunch of tiny pastries.
■■■
“If she didn’t love you, she wouldn’t need to talk to me,” Laurel Smith says.
“Don’t say that,” Polly snaps. “Don’t you dare tell me what my daughter needs.”
“She’s afraid to tell you the things she’s thinking about,” Laurel says.
“How the hell do you know what she’s thinking about?” Polly says. “You don’t even know her.”
Polly’s not about to stand here and listen to this.
She starts to walk across the gym, but Laurel Smith follows her.
“She’s thinking about death,” Laurel says.
“That’s what we talk about. She doesn’t want to tell you because she’s afraid she’ll hurt you.”
Polly stops at the bottom of the home-team bleachers.
“I could never steal her away from you,” Laurel says. “She can’t be stolen. She’s yours.” Polly can’t speak, but she nods her head.
■■■
Jack Eagan never even thinks about the blisters on his girls’ hands; every gymnast has them, usually from working out on the uneven parallel bars. Because the parents of one of her teammates have a credible medical report that allows that there is a slight chance of infection to her teammates if her blisters bleed while she’s on the uneven parallel bars and another girl with open blisters immediately follows her onto that piece of equipment, Amanda can no longer compete in that event. Which, in effect, means she can’t compete at all, since a gymnast isn’t taken seriously unless she performs every event. The medical report is rotten, but even Jack Eagan realizes there are real fears of infection involved. Amanda can continue with all her other events, but, Jack Eagan wonders, what is the point?
■■■
“No,” Amanda says. Her voice is very small but she’s not as pale. “The bars were always my worst event,” Amanda says.
“You didn’t have a worst event,” Jack Eagan says.
“I don’t think I could have done it anyway,” Amanda admits. “I’m not strong enough. I just didn’t want to tell anybody.”
Jack Eagan knows that once you’re committed to sports it’s hard to lie about your body. You have to use what is good about it, accept your limits and work around them.
“Would it be all right if I did my floor exercise anyway?” Amanda asks. “I asked a friend to come and see me.”
Jack Eagan thinks to himself that life stinks. It stinks because things are beautiful and then they’re taken away.
“Sure,” he says. “Do your routine.”
■■■
Laurel Smith is reminded of a book she loved as a child in which there was a picture of a thousand fairies, all in luminous dresses, flying this way and that over a field of wheat. This is how the girls look to her, aerial and small, managing to do what should be impossible for any human body.
■■■
Amanda grins, then sits down on the bench, her head down between her knees so she can catch her breath. She knows this is the closest she’ll ever get to a ten. From now on she’ll be sitting on this bench watching her teammates compete, instead of waiting for her turn. She’s had her turn. Her heart is still pounding.
■■■
She’s already started spending less time with her mother. Now it’s time to do the same with Jessie.
■■■
“We’re going to try and fix you up over at Children’s Hospital,” Ed says.
Amanda nods, but Ed can see she doesn’t believe him the way Polly does. She’s smart, this girl, and she’s tired.
Polly follows Ed out into the hallway.
“I don’t want her admitted,” Polly says. She has this crazy feeling that if they take Amanda to the hospital, they may never see her again.
■■■
When he’s done, Amanda rinses out her mouth and spits into the little sink. She runs her tongue over her teeth. The naked enamel feels cold. Dr. Rothstein takes off his goggles, his mask, and his gloves. After he scrubs up he takes a mirror and faces Amanda.
“Ready?” he asks her.
Amanda nods, although she’s not sure she is.
What if she’s uglier than she was before? What if her teeth are just as crooked?
“You’re sure?” the orthodontist asks.
“I’m sure,” Amanda says.
He holds up the mirror and Amanda takes a deep breath, which she doesn’t let out till she sees her face looming in front of her. She leans forward and tentatively opens her mouth. Then she smiles.
And even though she tries to keep her mouth closed, she’s still smiling when she walks out into the waiting room because now she knows. She would have been beautiful.
■■■
When the doorbell rings, Charlie and Ivan look at each other.
“Trick-or-treaters,” – Ivan says triumphantly.
He grabs a couple of candy bars and goes to the door. There’s a grownup’ witch out there, in a black cape and tall black hat. Ivan stares at her and holds fast to the Milky Ways.
“It’s all right,” Laurel Smith tells him. “I’m a good witch.”
Ivan laughs and opens the door. When Laurel comes inside there’s a rush of cold, sweet air. There are some yellow leaves stuck to the bottom of her black boots. Over each eyelid Laurel wears a streak of silver shadow.
“It’s a witch,” Ivan calls to Charlie. “What’s this?” he says to Laurel when he notices the wicker basket on her arm.
“Treats,” Laurel says.
“You’re a little confused,” Ivan says. “We’re supposed to give you something.”
Charlie stands in the living room doorway, his mouth open. His feet are bare and his shirt is small for him; a line of skin shows along his stomach and his wrists look too narrow. Laurel Smith reaches into her wicker basket and pulls out a paper bag marked with his name; inside there are chocolates and a yo-yo that glows in the dark.
“This is for you,” Laurel Smith says.
“That’s okay,” Charlie says. He hasn’t moved from the doorway. “I don’t need anything.” Ivan takes the paper bag. “I’ll save it for him,” he tells Laurel. “In case he changes his mind.” Charlie backs up, so that Laurel Smith can get past him and go up the stairs. Even dressed all in black, she’s really pretty. Charlie wants whatever she’s brought him, but he wanted to go trick-or-treating, too. He and Sevrin had both planned to steal shaving cream from their fathers and attack every parked car on the street. Charlie goes back into the living room and throws himself on the couch; he turns up the volume on the TV until he can no longer hear Laurel’s footsteps upstairs in the hallway.
■■■
“You’re so beautiful!” Amanda says in a hoarse, whispery voice.
“Well, thank you!” Laurel says. “And just for that, I’ve got a basketful of treats for you.” Polly gets up. “I’ll make some tea,” she tells them. “Don’t eat everything before I get back.” Laurel sits down next to Amanda on the bed, the wicker basket on her lap. Amanda’s nightgown is too big for her and her hair is knotted. She moves closer to Laurel.
“Are there a lot of kids out trick-or-treating?”
Amanda asks.
Laurel Smith nods.
“I’m afraid,” Amanda says.
“I know.” Laurel says.
Laurel leans down and puts her wicker basket on the floor. Inside there are chocolate tarts, and strands of plastic beads that look like rubies and pearls.
There are chocolates made in Holland in the shape of apples and oranges and a gold headband with rhinestone chips. Tonight, as Laurel drove along the marsh road, there was a big full moon, so perfect and white it was like a child’s drawing of a moon.
“I’m really afraid,” Amanda whispers in a small, raw voice.
As Laurel Smith puts her arms around the girl, her black cape makes a rustling sound. They hold fast to each other, rocking, and they stay that way for a long time, not because they think it will change anything, but because they don’t want to let go of each other just yet.
Amanda’s temperature doesn’t begin to rise until midnight. Once it begins, her fever keeps on climbing until the following afternoon, the day of the Clarkson meet, when it reaches 103. Amanda has awful pains in her joints, especially in her wrists and her knees. When she breathes it hurts, when she tries to turn over she cries. She’s miserable and upset about missing the meet, and she refuses to eat or drink. Polly, who’s afraid of dehydration, brings up glasses of water and lemonade.
“You have to drink,” Polly tells Amanda, but Amanda insists she can’t swallow.
All that night Ivan and Polly take turns sitting up with Amanda, forcing her to take small sips of water, carrying her to the bathroom whenever she has to go because her legs hurt too much to walk.
He manages to talk Amanda into swallowing some water, and, as soon as he listens to her lungs, he knows it won’t be long until he has to check her back into Children’s. Polly has not mentioned anything to him about difficulty in breathing, but Amanda’s lungs are filled with fluid.
“You’re having trouble breathing,” Ed says.
“No, I’m not,” Amanda says stubbornly.
“Okay,” Ed says to her. He knows she is inches from another case of pneumocystis. It’s this kind of recurrence he’s been afraid of all along.
■■■
Amanda’s hair is fanned out on the pillow. She’s curled up, knees to chest, and her breathing is thick and loud. When Polly leaves this room she will phone Ed Reardon and ask him to meet them at the hospital.
But right now she lifts the Polaroid and takes her daughter’s photograph. The night Amanda was born there was lightning. Polly could feel the air pressure pushing down inside her body, and the first thing she thought when her water broke was, “Oh, no. I don’t want to lose this baby,” because that’s what it felt like. Giving birth, no longer having her child within her seemed like a terrible loss. And when they held Amanda up and Polly saw her for the first time, she burst into tears. All these years later she can still remember what that moment felt like, she can still remember the lightning in the sky.
■■■
That’s when Polly turns to look, so she can always remember Amanda as she is right now, straining to sign over everything she owns, still finding something worth giving.
■■■
After she’d been carried into the Blazer, Amanda looked out her window and waved to them.
Charlie can’t stop remembering that, the way her hand moved like a piece of white paper.
■■■
Charlie gets off his bike and crouches down next to it. No matter what, there will always be two kids in their family. Even if everything she owned is thrown away, even if her closets are empty, her room will always belong to her, and whenever he’s asked, at school or by a stranger he meets, he’ll always say, “I have one sister, Amanda,” because he always will.
He’ll have her long after his parents have grown old and died, and if he ever has children of his own he’ll tell them everything about her, what her favorite music was, the names she used to call him, everything, so they’ll remember her, too.
He focuses on the center of the pond. If Amanda were here she’d probably want to go swimming. Cold water never bothered her. It’s getting dark fast and Charlie reaches into the gym bag for the light meter.
“That’s Amanda’s,” Sevrin says.
Charlie turns to Sevrin and glares at him. “What if it is?” he says, daring Sevrin to say something nasty about the gym bag because it’s pink.
“Neat dinosaur patch,” Sevrin says.
Charlie turns back and refocuses. He recognizes the sound of Sevrin tapping his foot. Sevrin always does that when he’s nervous.
“Look, I don’t care if you hate me,” Sevrin says.
“You’re still my best friend.”
Through the camera, things look more yellow than they are. Shadows seem darker, more permanent. Charlie will never let himself forget her.
Not in a million years.
“Hand me the flash,” Charlie says.
Sevrin scurries over to the gym bag and gets the flash attachment for him.
“Maybe you’d better go home,” Charlie says.
“Your mother’s going to be worried about you. Youll just be wasting your time. I haven’t even seen that turtle since the last time we were here.” Sevrin thinks this over carefully. “That’s okay,” he says. “If anyone sees him, it’ll be us.”
hexafu 