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It was Josh. "I'm not going for a walk unless I can take my basketball," he said.

"Dad, I saw somebody," I told him. "Up there. A girl." I pointed.

I felt cold all over. My legs were all trembly. I grabbed the banister.

A hand touched my shoulder.

"No -- it's -- it's not you," I said, and called Dad again.

I spun around.

"Dad! Come here -- please!" I called.

"Amanda, I'm kind of busy," Dad said, appearing below at the foot of the stairs, already perspiring from uncrating living room stuff.

"Josh -- please!" I looked back up to the landing, and the girl was gone.

Josh's face filled with alarm. "Hey, I didn't do anything!" he shouted.

"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."

"Mice?" Josh asked with sudden interest. "Really? Where?"

"Dad, I didn't imagine it," I said, my voice cracking. I was really hurt that he didn't believe me.

"Amanda, look up there," Dad said, gazing up to the landing. "What do you see?"

Turning to my bed, I had another shock.

But I didn't really feel sorry. I felt confused.

So then, what was going on?

And still scared.

No. I didn't think so.

Mom, I guessed.

"It's just clothes," Dad said impatiently. "It's not a girl. It's clothes." He rolled his eyes.

Who opened it?

I opened the door to my room, turned on the ceiling light, and saw the curtains billowing in front of the bay window.

I hurried over to them. This time, the window was open.

I followed his gaze. There was a pile of my clothes on the landing. Mom must have just unpacked them.

Was it possible that I thought a pile of clothes was a smiling girl?

Oh, no. Not again, I thought.

Warm, wet air blew into the room. The sky was heavy and gray. It smelled like rain.

"Sorry," I said quietly. I repeated it as I started up the stairs. "Sorry."

I'm not crazy. And I have really good eyesight.

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.

Calm down, Amanda, I told myself. Calm down.

There was a logical explanation for everything. Everything.

I stormed over to the closet and pulled open the door.

"I've got to get out of here," I said aloud.

Frantically, I pushed clothes out of the way. No one in there.

I could hear her shout something from downstairs, but I couldn't make out the words.

This was the last straw. "What's going on here?" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

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.

I stood at the doorway and called to her. "Mom? Mom? Did you pick out clothes for me?"

Whispering and hushed giggling behind the closet door.

The room, I realized, was driving me crazy.

Mice? I thought. Had I heard the mice that Dad was talking about?

Who had put them there? Mom?

Of course Mom pulled the clothes out. Of course Mom put them there.

From the doorway, I heard whispering in my closet.

No. I was driving myself crazy. Imagining all of these weird things.

"Boo!"

Calm down, Amanda. Calm down.

"I woke up," he said. And then added impatiently, "Come on. Let's go."

"I don't remember," Josh said, avoiding my eyes. "I just remember they were scary."

"And what happened?" I asked, turning to the mirror to brush my hair.

"No, tell me," I insisted. "What were you going to say?"

"Yeah. There were these two boys in my room. And they were mean."

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.

"Josh -- cut it out. You didn't scare me," I told him, sounding more cross than I had meant to.

I took a deep breath and held it to ten.

"What did they do?" I asked.

He started to say something, then stopped. He suddenly looked embarrassed. "Forget it," he muttered.

"A dream?" I remembered my horrible dream.

"Huh? You, too?" I exclaimed. "What's your problem?"

"Did the boys say anything to you?" I asked.

"Let's get out of here," he said, staring at me from the doorway. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Laughed?"

"No. I don't think so," he answered thoughtfully. "They just laughed."

"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?"

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.

"Okay. I'm ready," I said, putting down my brush, taking one last look in the mirror. "Let's go on this dumb walk."

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.

It had to be our imaginations.

I mean, what else could it be?