Lucy was in jeans and had her short hair pulled back into a squat little ponytail. It was the most informal attire I'd ever seen her in, and she looked charming in a farm-girl sort of way.

"Gosh, this is good," Lucy said in a half whisper, as we picked up our bowling shoes. "I feel really spontaneous. Ben's going to be so surprised when he finds out. He thinks I never do anything except sit at home and do my lesson plans. Mostly, I don't. Except when I go over to my mom's."

I grinned at her.

We played not two games but six and were still there at 10:30, when they signaled closing time.

"You want to get a Coke?" I asked, as we put the balls away. Attached to the bowling alley was a small bar, which stayed open later. I tipped my head in that direction.

"Yeah, okay," Lucy said brightly. "But golly, I'm going to be tired tomorrow. Aren't you? Have you got your lesson plans done already?"

She found us a small table, and I went up to the bar to get the soft drinks.

"I suppose you did all your plans before you left school," Lucy said when I returned. "You're so well organized. I keep meaning to, but then I get down in the lounge and somebody gets talking ..." Then she shrugged. "But that's okay, I suppose, because the plans give me something to do in the evenings when Ben's not there."

She glanced over. "This has really been fun. I wasn't going to come when you first asked me. I haven't washed my hair and I look awful, but then I thought, well, what the heck? I'm going to be really wild for once. I'm just going to go out and have fun. And you know what? It really has been fun. Thanks for asking me."

Touched by her pleasure, I smiled.

"Do you do this kind of stuff all the time?" she asked. "I'll bet you're used to it, coming from the city and all that. I bet you went out a lot up there."

Still smiling, I shook my head. "Not really. I'm not much the going-out type. I just wanted a change of scenery tonight. Things are starting to get on top of me at work, and I find I'm bringing problems home with me."

"You're having problems?" she asked, a fleeting look of alarm crossing her face.

Immediately, I realized she was thinking of June Harriman and I rushed to reassure her I hadn't meant personal problems. "It's Jadie. I'm in a real mess with Jadie." From there, I went on to explain what had been going on over the previous months. Lucy knew a lot of it already, such as the sexual incidents, simply because, being next door, she was the one who had often rescued me in moments of chaos; but now, I also talked about my time after school with Jadie, when she often stood upright, often screamed and shouted. I told of Tashee, Jenny, Miss Ellie, and the others. I mentioned ghosts and spiders. Once I got started, it all just tumbled out.

When I finally took a breath, Lucy lowered her head and peered into her glass. Taking her straw, she prodded the crushed ice that remained. "Gosh," she murmured. "Gosh."

"The thing is, I can't figure out what's going on with her. That's what's so upsetting to me. I mean, what if it's true? What if I'm sitting here, doing nothing because I think she's imagining it, and these horrible, unbelievable, unthinkable things are happening to her?"

"Oh, they just couldn't be," Lucy replied. "It'd be murder you're talking about, otherwise."

"Yeah, I know. That's what I keep thinking, but then ... she's so consistent in what she says ... but then it's so farfetched. I keep trying to conjure up what kind of situation could produce this ..."

"But it couldn't be real," Lucy replied.

"It'd have to be a group of some kind. A porn ring, maybe. Pedophiliacs?"

"Torey," Lucy said, her voice almost plaintive.

I looked over.

"This is Pecking, for Pete's sake. It's not like up in the city. Jeepers, I don't think that kind of junk even goes on up there. This is California-style stuff you're talking about. Or maybe like what goes on in New York or Amsterdam or one of those other foreign places, where they let people get away with this kind of thing. But for God's sake, Torey, this is my home town you're talking about."

"I'm not saying it is happening. I'm just speculating."

"I know that kind of thing does go on. I'm not that naive, but I just don't think it could happen here. This is a close-knit community. Everyone knows everyone-and everyone's business. I mean, what would the neighbors think?"

A pause came into the conversation. Lucy, growing pensive, stirred the ice in her glass again, then delicately lifted some out with her straw and put it into her mouth. A country-western ballad on the jukebox momentarily intruded on my thoughts, distracting me with its soft, lonely sound.

"You know what I wonder," Lucy said. "I wonder if Jadie could be someone like Sybil. You know, from that book."

"The one with multiple personalities?"

"Yeah. Maybe Jadie's divided herself up into all these different kinds of people. Maybe one part of her's living kind of a 'Dallas' lifestyle and she's made up a fantasy world with those characters. Like maybe all the badness and stuff that she feels inside her she makes over, as if it belonged to Miss Ellie and J.R. and them. The characters on 'Dallas' are no saints, so maybe she's just used them to personify her own negative side. And Tashee ... maybe Tashee's the good, pure part of her, the bit she feels she has to save."

A lot of what Lucy said made reasonably good sense. It was easy to imagine parts of one's psyche being represented by TV characters, particularly in light of the pervasiveness of television in current culture, and there was little doubt in my mind that Tashee, real or unreal, had come to symbolize all that was good in Jadie's eyes. I knew also that the phenomenon of multiple personality was often closely associated with sexual abuse, which would account for Jadie's precocious sexual behavior, as well as provide the traumatic core for such a serious disintegration of self. Some things still troubled me, however. Why, for instance, did the characters she'd chosen to represent her other selves not quite jibe with their personalities on TV? Wouldn't Miss Ellie have been more likely to come out as sweet, caring, and maternal, while J.R. or one of the other less upstanding citizens of "Dallas" have been assigned the evil role? Unless, of course, Jadie's abuser was her mother ... Then again, all her sexual behavior had been directed toward the male anatomy.

The other problem I had with Lucy's theory was the simple fact that multiple personality, particularly in children Jadie's age, is a rare phenomenon indeed. I'd never come across it. In fact, while we all knew about it, no one at the clinic had ever seen an adult with the problem, much less a child. It would be pretty incredible to find such a thing under our own noses. Then, as I sat there with Lucy, my mind going round and round and round, what occurred to me was that whatever Jadie's circumstances, they were bizarre, and incredulity was probably playing a major part in preventing us from finding an answer.

The following day, Jadie did not turn up for school. This disconcerted me, given the nature of our time together the previous afternoon. Like most of my special education children, Jadie's attendance record had always been excellent, and, while she was as susceptible to whatever was going around as the rest, there hadn't been much making the rounds. No one even had a cold.

I was further worried because we had reached the last full week in October and Amber's dreaded sixth birthday would be on Sunday. Jadie hadn't mentioned it in the last few days, but I'd fully expected to have the chance to discuss the matter more thoroughly with her and perhaps provide some additional reassurance.

These concerns made me restless company during the morning. When the boys were all occupied, I found myself drawn to the window, where I could see across the playground to her house on the other side of the street. Nothing there seemed out of the ordinary. The blinds were up, the curtains back. But I kept checking anyway. At recess I went down to the kindergarten to see if Amber was there, and indeed she was, playing Doggie Get the Bone with the other kindergarteners, her fair hair flying as she ran, her face laughing and merry. Yet, I still couldn't shake the sense of unease, so at lunchtime, I slipped out of the school.

Almost as soon as I rang the doorbell, Mrs. Ekdahl answered it. She held Sapphire in her arms and looked decidedly surprised to see me. Sapphire, a podgy, round-headed toddler with a very dirty face, whined and struggled to get down.

"She's got a stomachache," Mrs. Ekdahl replied, when I'd explained why I was there. "She puked in her bed last night, so I didn't think I should send her to school."

"No, probably best not to," I agreed. "Do you suppose I could say hi to her?"

The blind in Jadie's room was pulled against the late October sunshine, leaving the room in bright dimness. Jadie was sitting up in bed with a stack of Donald Duck comics next to her.

"Hello," I said.

Surprised, Jadie looked at me.

"Your mom says you're not feeling well."

She didn't speak.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I smiled. "Are you feeling a bit better now?"

Her behavior was guarded, as if I were a stranger. Or perhaps simply an intruder.

"I'm sorry you're not in class. We're missing you. This afternoon we're going into Mrs. McLaren's class to make nut cups for the Halloween party next week. I'm sorry you won't be there to help us."

Jadie still did not speak.

"Shall I make one for you? To have at the party?"

Jadie shifted her shoulders slightly, although not sufficiently to produce a shrug.

Flustered by her stark silence, I glanced around the room. It was a typical little girl's bedroom, with all the usual clutter of childhood. Jadie sat amidst tissues and discarded coloring books, crayons rolling around over the bedclothes. Briefly, I was transported back to my own childhood and the days off school with minor illnesses.

Jadie was watching me intently.

"I've brought you something," I said at last. Bending down, I opened a paper carrier bag and took out one of the Sasha dolls. It wasn't the dark-haired one that Jadie had imbued with Tashee's qualities, but rather the one with long blond hair. "I thought maybe you'd like some company. I can't give her to you, because she's part of the set, but I thought that while you need her, you could keep her here at home with you, and then you can bring her back to school when things are better."

Wordlessly, Jadie took the doll and pressed it close into the crook of her arm.

"The lunch hour is nearly up and I need to get back soon, but I thought this doll ... well, if things get hard, you can look at her and know I'm thinking of you."

She continued to regard the doll.

I rose from the bed. "I do need to go now. I hope you get to feeling better."

No answer.

"Okay?"

Gently lifting her hand, she caressed the doll's hair away from its face before looking up at me. Very, very slightly, she smiled.

Jadie's mother was just outside the bedroom door when I came out. She was so close, in fact, that I literally bumped into her. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I was bringing Jadie some clean sheets. She gets herself in such a mess when she's in bed like this."

I nodded. "Thanks for letting me see her."

"I seen that doll," Mrs. Ekdahl said and smiled. "That was real sweet of you to do. I can see why she likes you so much, 'cause you do do the nicest things for her. Her and Amber are always playing dolls together, so that's going to make her real happy."

"I'm glad," I said.

"It looks just like you, that doll. Got blond hair, just like you," Mrs. Ekdahl said. "Jadie's going to like that. Going to make her feel she isn't missing you so much, and Jadie always was one for having her dolls look like people."

On Monday, Jadie was back and quite her usual self. She had the blond-haired doll with her and she kept it with her, laying it on the table beside her as she did her morning work.

"Look what girlie-wurlie's got," Jeremiah said.

"Yes, I know."

"She stoled it. I seen her, 'cause she had it down on the playground before school. And it's one of them dolls you brung in."

"No, she didn't steal it. I've lent it to her for the time being."

"You did?" Jeremiah cried in an injured tone. "You never lent me nothing."

"You want a doll, too?"

"No, I mean nothing of yours from here in the classroom. You never let me take nothing home."

"This was a special circumstance, Jeremiah. I lent it to Jadie for a special reason, and when I feel you have a special circumstance, then I'll lend you something, too."

Jeremiah made a derisive noise. "What would I want fucking school stuff for anyways?"

At the end of the day, I took the boys down to their rides. When I arrived back upstairs, I found Jadie still hadn't departed. She was in the cloakroom, her boots on, her coat down from the hook and lying on the bench. The box containing the other Sasha dolls had been pulled out, and she was involved in silent play with the dark-haired doll, holding it upside down against the wall. When I appeared in the doorway, Jadie started and whipped the doll down.

"You particularly like that doll, don't you?" I said.

She nodded. "But I like the one you gave me, too. I like her best, because I pretend that's you."

I smiled and came around to stand beside her. "This one looks more like Tashee, doesn't she?"

Jadie looked up sharply.

"Shall we close the doors?" Without waiting for a response, I went and did it. "So, how was your weekend?" I asked. "How was Amber's birthday?"

Jadie picked up the dark-haired doll again.

"Did she have a party?" I asked.

"No."

"What about within the family? Did you do anything special for her at home?"

"Yeah. My mom made a cake. It was yellow and it had candles on it." A pause, and Jadie wrinkled her nose. "You know what stupid thing Amber wanted on her cake? Sugar daffodils. Daffodils. And this is October, even. But my mom said that was okay for her to want, 'cause it was her birthday."

"Did she get presents?"

"Yeah."

"What kind?"

"My mom and dad gave her some clothes, and she got a My Little Pony, too. And my grandma gave her a tapestry kit, only she's not really big enough to do it. I gave her a Mars bar, but Sapphire didn't give her anything, 'cause she's too little to have an allowance."

"So, Amber turned six on Sunday. She had a cake and presents. Did anything else happen?"

Jadie shook her head.

"She didn't die, did she?"

Jadie turned the dark-haired doll upside down and watched its long hair fall. She cocked her head a little to see the doll's face better.

"Amber's all right," I said quietly. "She's turned six and she's fine."

"No," Jadie replied and there was a brittle edge to her voice.

"She is. I saw her myself this morning down in Mrs. Havers's class."

"No. They'll still come. It doesn't have to be on her birthday. It's because she's six now. That's the number they kill you at. That's the number Miss Ellie says is for dying. They're gonna do just like they done with Tashee. I know they will."

"Who?"

"Them. I keep telling you. Them. Miss Ellie and Bobby and them."

"But who are they? Where do they come from? How do you get to be with them? Do they take you? Do they come to your house? Are your mom and dad there?"

Jadie looked up, bewildered.