He didn't think Neil could ever be good enough to win Diana's approval.
"I don't want anybody's attention," Cameron told her, fighting to control his inner shaking. "I just want to be left alone."
"Fine with me," Diana said, turning away and scrubbing the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "But I've got to act like I'm glad you're home, or Dad will be disappointed in me. I've got to hang around here with you. I'm missing tryouts for the summer musical—they're doing
The Sound of Music,
and I know I'd get a good part. I want to be an actress, but Dad doesn't care about me. All he's ever cared about is you."
Cameron felt bludgeoned, the way he'd felt when Pop had told him how bad he was. Diana might not know he wasn't Neil, but she already knew he was a disappointment.
"Just remember—once school starts you're on your own," she went on. Then she turned back suddenly, her eyes narrowed. "What grade are you going into, anyway?"
Cameron looked out at the sparkling water, trying to blank out her dislike. "Eighth," he said. "I got held back."
"No!" Her voice was outraged. "That's too much!"
"What?"
"I'm going into eighth grade, too!" Diana cried. "But I won't be stuck with you all the time! It's bad enough everybody's going to be all amazed at your coming back—I refuse to have you in my class!"
"Don't worry," he said stiffly. "The last place I want to be is in your class."
She dragged the straps of her life jacket angrily through the clasps and started for the dock. Then she stopped and turned back to him. "If you went to school and everything," she demanded, "why didn't you tell anybody who you were? A teacher, or the police? Why did you go along with him?"
Cameron stared at her for a minute, then looked back down at the straps dangling limply from his own life jacket. Carefully he threaded one through the clasp. Why did everybody think he could have said something? Why weren't they angry at the adults who were free, who weren't being beaten and punished, who must have seen but who hadn't done anything all the times he'd been bruised and dizzy and swallowing aspirin every hour? Sure, he'd tried to hide it, but grown-ups were supposed to be smarter than kids—why hadn't they seen through him and helped him? Why was he to blame for everything? He wanted to shout at her, to shake her, but he couldn't let himself be like Pop.
His arms felt heavy as he smoothed out the second strap. "He told me not to," he said quietly. "He told me he'd kill me if I didn't do what he said."
"But if you'd told somebody, they'd have arrested him and he couldn't have done anything to you."
Cameron fastened the last clasp and raised his eyes to meet her angry glare. "I had to do what he said. He killed all the other boys who didn't do what he told them to."
Then he walked past her unsteadily and climbed into the bobbing Sunfish. After a minute she stepped into her own boat and cast off.
8. Shadow of the past
No, Cameron tried to say.
Don't go with him!
But the boy went, slipping his hand into the man's. He skipped alongside the man, looking up eagerly as he talked.
Then they were in the house, and Cameron said, "Be good, keep quiet. If you just do what he says, you'll make it, like me."
But the boy wouldn't listen. He tossed his jacket on the floor, he climbed on the furniture. He talked and he laughed, and when the man yelled at him, he began to cry.
"Stop it!" Cameron told him, shaking the boy. "Don't cry! He doesn't like it when you cry!"
But it was too late. The man opened the cellar door and gave Cameron a shove, and as he tumbled down the stairs he could hear the man unbuckling his belt and cursing.
With a strangled sob Cameron sat upright and found himself not on the hardpacked earth floor of the cellar, but in a twin bed in a sunfilled room. The sheets were damp and twisted around him, and Stevie was staring at him curiously, his dark hair still sleep-tousled.
"What were you dreaming about?" he asked. "You
"I don't want anybody's attention," Cameron told her, fighting to control his inner shaking. "I just want to be left alone."
"Fine with me," Diana said, turning away and scrubbing the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "But I've got to act like I'm glad you're home, or Dad will be disappointed in me. I've got to hang around here with you. I'm missing tryouts for the summer musical—they're doing
The Sound of Music,
and I know I'd get a good part. I want to be an actress, but Dad doesn't care about me. All he's ever cared about is you."
Cameron felt bludgeoned, the way he'd felt when Pop had told him how bad he was. Diana might not know he wasn't Neil, but she already knew he was a disappointment.
"Just remember—once school starts you're on your own," she went on. Then she turned back suddenly, her eyes narrowed. "What grade are you going into, anyway?"
Cameron looked out at the sparkling water, trying to blank out her dislike. "Eighth," he said. "I got held back."
"No!" Her voice was outraged. "That's too much!"
"What?"
"I'm going into eighth grade, too!" Diana cried. "But I won't be stuck with you all the time! It's bad enough everybody's going to be all amazed at your coming back—I refuse to have you in my class!"
"Don't worry," he said stiffly. "The last place I want to be is in your class."
She dragged the straps of her life jacket angrily through the clasps and started for the dock. Then she stopped and turned back to him. "If you went to school and everything," she demanded, "why didn't you tell anybody who you were? A teacher, or the police? Why did you go along with him?"
Cameron stared at her for a minute, then looked back down at the straps dangling limply from his own life jacket. Carefully he threaded one through the clasp. Why did everybody think he could have said something? Why weren't they angry at the adults who were free, who weren't being beaten and punished, who must have seen but who hadn't done anything all the times he'd been bruised and dizzy and swallowing aspirin every hour? Sure, he'd tried to hide it, but grown-ups were supposed to be smarter than kids—why hadn't they seen through him and helped him? Why was he to blame for everything? He wanted to shout at her, to shake her, but he couldn't let himself be like Pop.
His arms felt heavy as he smoothed out the second strap. "He told me not to," he said quietly. "He told me he'd kill me if I didn't do what he said."
"But if you'd told somebody, they'd have arrested him and he couldn't have done anything to you."
Cameron fastened the last clasp and raised his eyes to meet her angry glare. "I had to do what he said. He killed all the other boys who didn't do what he told them to."
Then he walked past her unsteadily and climbed into the bobbing Sunfish. After a minute she stepped into her own boat and cast off.
8. Shadow of the past
No, Cameron tried to say.
Don't go with him!
But the boy went, slipping his hand into the man's. He skipped alongside the man, looking up eagerly as he talked.
Then they were in the house, and Cameron said, "Be good, keep quiet. If you just do what he says, you'll make it, like me."
But the boy wouldn't listen. He tossed his jacket on the floor, he climbed on the furniture. He talked and he laughed, and when the man yelled at him, he began to cry.
"Stop it!" Cameron told him, shaking the boy. "Don't cry! He doesn't like it when you cry!"
But it was too late. The man opened the cellar door and gave Cameron a shove, and as he tumbled down the stairs he could hear the man unbuckling his belt and cursing.
With a strangled sob Cameron sat upright and found himself not on the hardpacked earth floor of the cellar, but in a twin bed in a sunfilled room. The sheets were damp and twisted around him, and Stevie was staring at him curiously, his dark hair still sleep-tousled.
"What were you dreaming about?" he asked. "You
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