It was Josh. "I'm not going for a walk unless I can take my basketball," he said.
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"Dad, I saw somebody," I told him. "Up there. A girl." I pointed.
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I felt cold all over. My legs were all trembly. I grabbed the banister.
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A hand touched my shoulder.
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"No -- it's -- it's not you," I said, and called Dad again.
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I spun around.
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"Dad! Come here -- please!" I called.
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"Amanda, I'm kind of busy," Dad said, appearing below at the foot of the stairs, already perspiring from uncrating living room stuff.
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"Josh -- please!" I looked back up to the landing, and the girl was gone.
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Josh's face filled with alarm. "Hey, I didn't do anything!" he shouted.
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"Amanda, please," he replied, making a face. "Stop seeing things -- okay? There's no one in this house except the four of us… and maybe a few mice."
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"Mice?" Josh asked with sudden interest. "Really? Where?"
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"Dad, I didn't imagine it," I said, my voice cracking. I was really hurt that he didn't believe me.
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"Amanda, look up there," Dad said, gazing up to the landing. "What do you see?"
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Turning to my bed, I had another shock.
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But I didn't really feel sorry. I felt confused.
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So then, what was going on?
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And still scared.
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No. I didn't think so.
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Mom, I guessed.
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"It's just clothes," Dad said impatiently. "It's not a girl. It's clothes." He rolled his eyes.
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Who opened it?
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I opened the door to my room, turned on the ceiling light, and saw the curtains billowing in front of the bay window.
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I hurried over to them. This time, the window was open.
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I followed his gaze. There was a pile of my clothes on the landing. Mom must have just unpacked them.
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Was it possible that I thought a pile of clothes was a smiling girl?
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Oh, no. Not again, I thought.
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Warm, wet air blew into the room. The sky was heavy and gray. It smelled like rain.
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"Sorry," I said quietly. I repeated it as I started up the stairs. "Sorry."
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I'm not crazy. And I have really good eyesight.
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Someone had laid out an outfit for me. A pair of faded jeans and a pale blue, sleeveless T-shirt. They were spread out side by side at the foot of the bed.
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Calm down, Amanda, I told myself. Calm down.
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There was a logical explanation for everything. Everything.
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I stormed over to the closet and pulled open the door.
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"I've got to get out of here," I said aloud.
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Frantically, I pushed clothes out of the way. No one in there.
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I could hear her shout something from downstairs, but I couldn't make out the words.
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This was the last straw. "What's going on here?" I yelled at the top of my lungs.
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As I pulled up my jeans and fastened them, I said the word "logical" over and over in my mind. I said it so many times that it didn't sound like a real word anymore.
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I stood at the doorway and called to her. "Mom? Mom? Did you pick out clothes for me?"
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Whispering and hushed giggling behind the closet door.
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The room, I realized, was driving me crazy.
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Mice? I thought. Had I heard the mice that Dad was talking about?
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Who had put them there? Mom?
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Of course Mom pulled the clothes out. Of course Mom put them there.
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From the doorway, I heard whispering in my closet.
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No. I was driving myself crazy. Imagining all of these weird things.
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"Boo!"
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Calm down, Amanda. Calm down.
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"I woke up," he said. And then added impatiently, "Come on. Let's go."
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"I don't remember," Josh said, avoiding my eyes. "I just remember they were scary."
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"And what happened?" I asked, turning to the mirror to brush my hair.
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"No, tell me," I insisted. "What were you going to say?"
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"Yeah. There were these two boys in my room. And they were mean."
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He kicked at the floor molding. "I had a really creepy dream last night," he finally admitted, looking past me to the fluttering curtains at the window.
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"Josh -- cut it out. You didn't scare me," I told him, sounding more cross than I had meant to.
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I took a deep breath and held it to ten.
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"What did they do?" I asked.
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He started to say something, then stopped. He suddenly looked embarrassed. "Forget it," he muttered.
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"A dream?" I remembered my horrible dream.
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"Huh? You, too?" I exclaimed. "What's your problem?"
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"Did the boys say anything to you?" I asked.
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"Let's get out of here," he said, staring at me from the doorway. "This place gives me the creeps."
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"Laughed?"
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"No. I don't think so," he answered thoughtfully. "They just laughed."
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"Well, giggled, sort of," Josh said. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," he snapped. "Are we going for this dumb walk, or not?"
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I followed him down the hall. As we passed the stack of clothes on the landing, I thought about the girl I had seen standing there. And I thought about the boy in the window when we first arrived. And the two boys Josh had seen in his dream.
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"Okay. I'm ready," I said, putting down my brush, taking one last look in the mirror. "Let's go on this dumb walk."
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I decided it proved that Josh and I were both really nervous about moving to this new place. Maybe Mom and Dad were right. We were letting our imaginations run away with us.
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It had to be our imaginations.
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I mean, what else could it be?
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