this feeling on your part?”
Here we go again
, Emily thought. It wasn’t the first time a well-meaning teacher had brought up her award-winning sisters. “I’m proud of Angela and Monica,” she said, “and I’m not jealous of them. I’m not trying to
be
them. Who they are and what they’re doing with their lives have nothing to do with me, and people shouldn’t tell me I should be like them when they know good and well I can’t be.”
Dr. Hampton nodded, as though she were agreeing. “We’ll discuss this later,” she said. “Would you like to talk about what happened at our group discussion yesterday evening?”
Emily sighed. “Not really,” she answered.
“You left when we began talking about our early memories,” Dr. Hampton went on, as if Emily had notobjected. “Is there something about delving into early memories that disturbs you?”
“Could we talk about something else?” Emily asked.
There was a long pause before Dr. Hampton answered, “Of course. If you’d rather. We want you to be comfortable here, Emily.”
Emily looked into Dr. Hampton’s deep brown eyes and surprised herself by thinking,
I don’t believe you. I really don’t think you do
.
CHAPTER 8
This camp is a golden opportunity for success and recognition for our entire staff. When the results of our work are made public, there will be praise from educators across the country. I should have that praise. I deserve it. For years I’ve struggled to achieve it
.
I am not about to lose all I’ve worked for because of Emily Wood
.
Is she unable to remember her early childhood experiences? Or does she not want to remember?
At our noon staff meeting, when this was discussed, some felt one way, some the other. I’m the only one who thought it was essential to find out. Of course, I kept my opinion to myself. I’m determined that those memories will never be made public
.
I refuse to worry. I keep reminding myself, there is more than one way to blot out a memory
.
CHAPTER 9
Emily’s group had beach activity scheduled before lunch, but before anyone could get into the water, Coach Jinks began to shout out camp rules through a megaphone. At first Emily tried to pay attention to the list of regulations, wincing at the pitiful jokes with which the coach tried to break up the monotony. But without so much as a wisp of breeze the hot sun toasted Emily’s bare shoulders and back, and she was eager to plunge into the chill of the lake.
“So that’s what the mama fish said to the baby fish,” Coach finished, and waited for laughter. It didn’t come.
Embarrassed for him, Emily thought eagerly about the small dock and rowboat she had discovered. The path would be shaded, the water would be sun-dappled and cool, and she’d be away from Coach and his awful jokes and rules in which she wasn’t the least bit interested. She edged away from the open beach and back toward the buildings.
Intent on explaining procedure during relay races, Coach didn’t seem to notice as she left. Neither did theothers on the beach. Within a few minutes Emily had slipped out of their sight, found the almost hidden path, and followed it.
It didn’t take long to reach the lake. Faintly, in the distance, she could hear Coach’s insistent voice through the megaphone, but the silence captured by the snug glen wrapped around her like a soft blanket. At the end of the dock the rowboat bobbed lightly over waves that lapped the rocks, and far across the water a bird skimmed the surface, then soared out of sight.
Emily stepped onto the dock, which creaked and rocked a little under her weight—but she stopped as she spotted a hand-printed sign posted on a nearby tree: KEEP OFF .
The sign hadn’t been there the day before. Emily knew she would have seen and remembered it. Who had put it there? And why? The dock seemed sturdy enough, and Emily was sick of rules. Deliberately, she walked onto the dock and stood at the end, curling her bare toes around
Here we go again
, Emily thought. It wasn’t the first time a well-meaning teacher had brought up her award-winning sisters. “I’m proud of Angela and Monica,” she said, “and I’m not jealous of them. I’m not trying to
be
them. Who they are and what they’re doing with their lives have nothing to do with me, and people shouldn’t tell me I should be like them when they know good and well I can’t be.”
Dr. Hampton nodded, as though she were agreeing. “We’ll discuss this later,” she said. “Would you like to talk about what happened at our group discussion yesterday evening?”
Emily sighed. “Not really,” she answered.
“You left when we began talking about our early memories,” Dr. Hampton went on, as if Emily had notobjected. “Is there something about delving into early memories that disturbs you?”
“Could we talk about something else?” Emily asked.
There was a long pause before Dr. Hampton answered, “Of course. If you’d rather. We want you to be comfortable here, Emily.”
Emily looked into Dr. Hampton’s deep brown eyes and surprised herself by thinking,
I don’t believe you. I really don’t think you do
.
CHAPTER 8
This camp is a golden opportunity for success and recognition for our entire staff. When the results of our work are made public, there will be praise from educators across the country. I should have that praise. I deserve it. For years I’ve struggled to achieve it
.
I am not about to lose all I’ve worked for because of Emily Wood
.
Is she unable to remember her early childhood experiences? Or does she not want to remember?
At our noon staff meeting, when this was discussed, some felt one way, some the other. I’m the only one who thought it was essential to find out. Of course, I kept my opinion to myself. I’m determined that those memories will never be made public
.
I refuse to worry. I keep reminding myself, there is more than one way to blot out a memory
.
CHAPTER 9
Emily’s group had beach activity scheduled before lunch, but before anyone could get into the water, Coach Jinks began to shout out camp rules through a megaphone. At first Emily tried to pay attention to the list of regulations, wincing at the pitiful jokes with which the coach tried to break up the monotony. But without so much as a wisp of breeze the hot sun toasted Emily’s bare shoulders and back, and she was eager to plunge into the chill of the lake.
“So that’s what the mama fish said to the baby fish,” Coach finished, and waited for laughter. It didn’t come.
Embarrassed for him, Emily thought eagerly about the small dock and rowboat she had discovered. The path would be shaded, the water would be sun-dappled and cool, and she’d be away from Coach and his awful jokes and rules in which she wasn’t the least bit interested. She edged away from the open beach and back toward the buildings.
Intent on explaining procedure during relay races, Coach didn’t seem to notice as she left. Neither did theothers on the beach. Within a few minutes Emily had slipped out of their sight, found the almost hidden path, and followed it.
It didn’t take long to reach the lake. Faintly, in the distance, she could hear Coach’s insistent voice through the megaphone, but the silence captured by the snug glen wrapped around her like a soft blanket. At the end of the dock the rowboat bobbed lightly over waves that lapped the rocks, and far across the water a bird skimmed the surface, then soared out of sight.
Emily stepped onto the dock, which creaked and rocked a little under her weight—but she stopped as she spotted a hand-printed sign posted on a nearby tree: KEEP OFF .
The sign hadn’t been there the day before. Emily knew she would have seen and remembered it. Who had put it there? And why? The dock seemed sturdy enough, and Emily was sick of rules. Deliberately, she walked onto the dock and stood at the end, curling her bare toes around
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