The Stargazer

Chapter Four

One of these nights, when she came up to the attic cold and hungry, with a tempest raging in her young breast, Emily's stare seemed so vacant, her sawdust legs and arms so inexpressive, that Sara lost all control over herself. There was nobody but Emily-- no one in the world. And there she sat.

"I shall die presently," she said at first.

Emily simply stared.

"I can't bear this," said the poor child, trembling. "I know I shall die. I'm cold; I'm wet; I'm starving to death. I've walked a thousand miles today, and they have done nothing but scold me from morning until night. And because I could not find that last thing the cook sent me for, they would not give me any supper. Some men laughed at me because my old shoes made me slip down in the mud. I'm covered with mud now. And they laughed. Do you hear?"

She looked at the staring glass eyes and complacent face, and suddenly a sort of heartbroken rage seized her. She lifted her little savage hand and knocked Emily off the chair, bursting into a passion of sobbing--Sara who never cried.

"You are nothing but a doll!" she cried. "Nothing but a doll-- doll--doll! You care for nothing. You are stuffed with sawdust. You never had a heart. Nothing could ever make you feel. You are a doll!" Emily lay on the floor, with her legs ignominiously doubled up over her head, and a new flat place on the end of her nose; but she was calm, even dignified. Sara hid her face in her arms. The rats in the wall began to fight and bite each other and squeak and scramble. Melchisedec was chastising some of his family.

Sara's sobs gradually quieted themselves. It was so unlike her to break down that she was surprised at herself. After a while she raised her face and looked at Emily, who seemed to be gazing at her round the side of one angle, and, somehow, by this time actually with a kind of glassy-eyed sympathy. Sara bent and picked her up. Remorse overtook her. She even smiled at herself a very little smile.

"You can't help being a doll," she said with a resigned sigh, "any more than Lavinia and Jessie can help not having any sense. We are not all made alike. Perhaps you do your sawdust best." And she kissed her and shook her clothes straight, and put her back upon her chair.

Amber...

Amber...

"Amber?"

My head was forced upward. I was sharply yanked from the depths of the story. Vacant, bitter eyes were focused on me. I was a tender fawn in the liar of a pack of hyenas. Every movement was followed by the eyes of my predators. The air was heavy with the aura of my fear. I sought my only escape.

I slammed my eyes shut. The exact opposite of what I would do to escape a nightmare. My long bangs draped over my face, and I kept my head down. I reached down underneath my desk. Mechanically, I took my bag and shoved the copy inside. I let the bag drop from my dead fingers. It slumped on the floor.

It always happens, and this I was used to.

A brisk note sounded as a forced breath ran through the spaces between my clenched teeth. I was ready for the routine. I swung my head twice from side to side, unveiling my face. My eyes clicked upward.

My language arts teacher tentatively fixed her round, wired glasses. The class snickered, shifting their biting stare between my confronter and I. She took in my sombre radiance cautiously. I returned the favor of studying her thin, frail frame. Everything about her struck me as fragile.

Her petite feet in librarian mary-janes, lightly perched on the scratched up classroom floor. Her orange and brown floral print dress, tan suit jacket against her pale skin. Petty faced, single pendant, bun hair, freckles.