Ghost Girl (9 page)

“Dolls?”
Jeremiah cried out in an utterly appalled voice. “You don’t expect me to play with a bunch of
dolls
, do you? Those are
girls’
toys!” He jerked his hands back from the box, as if he’d contaminated them.

“See here? Look. There are boy dolls in here, too. And good things to do with them. See here? See this little football? These boys could be getting ready for a football game. Maybe we could look in the scrap box and see if there is something to make a football helmet out of.”

“Man, lady, if you think I’m going to play with dolls, you got another think coming. Come on, Phil. Come on, Reub, get away from them boogy dolls.”

“You don’t
have
to play with them. Nobody has to play with anything in here, do they, Jeremiah? By the same token, there’s no need to make people feel bad for enjoying something interesting. One doesn’t need to think of them as dolls. They’re just … representations of people.”

“They’re
dolls.
”

It would have been easier at the beginning of the year. In all my previous classes, the dolls had simply been there from the start, and, like any other item in the room, they could be picked up, played with, and put down again without anyone paying too much attention; as a consequence, many of my boys had enjoyed them. Bringing them in like this, however, called too much attention to what they intrinsically were. Enticingly as I had set the dolls out on the back bookshelf, no one went near them.

After school that day, Jadie arrived, as she now commonly did. She hobbled into the cloakroom, slammed the door, took the key from me, locked it, then pressed the little tab of masking tape over the keyhole. Afterward, she went and locked the other door. Immediately becoming upright, she gave a little scream. This over, she darted off around the room, circling it quickly, lithely. This done, she stopped. She scanned the room, then came to stand beside my desk.

Silence followed. I always had my plan book out during this time, not only because it was my planning time but also because it allowed me to focus on something other than Jadie, and this gave these little get-togethers a less intense timbre.

“You know what?” she said softly.

“What’s that?”

“There’s nothing for me to do in here.”

“You’re feeling a bit bored?”

She nodded.

“What do you suppose we might do about it?” I asked, hoping this might lead to expansion beyond the locked doors of the cloakroom.

“It’d be nice if those dolls were in here.”

“If you want to play with those dolls, that’s okay,” I replied.

“But they’re out there.”

“You could go get them. The box with the clothes in it is on the bookshelf. You could put the dolls you wanted into that and bring them in here.”

Jadie studied me. I could tell she wanted me to go get the dolls for her, but when she didn’t speak, I went back to my work. Jadie continued to stand, her expression morose.

“If you open the door, you’ll be able to get the dolls,” I said, not looking up. “It isn’t very far from the door to the bookshelf. You can bring them back in here and close the door again.”

Jadie turned her head and looked at the door. Not only would she have to leave the safety of the cloakroom to do this, but to carry the box of dolls back, she needed to remain upright. Unlike her speech, which had generalized quickly to include the others in the classroom, her posture seemed unchanged outside the privacy of the cloakroom. Sighing sadly, she slumped down on one of the benches.

“Do you want some help?” I asked.

She nodded.

“You know, if you explain to me what you want, then I am much more likely to help. I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me when you want help.”

Still silence.

I rose from my chair. “I’ll open the door.” Getting the key from the other door, I peeled back the masking tape and unlocked it. Jadie shrank back. “Come on,” I said, extending my hand. “We’ll go together. You get which dolls you want, and I’ll carry the box of clothes.”

Jadie accepted this. Taking my hand, she crept behind me into the classroom, where I gathered up most of the big dolls and put them into her arms. Jadie, not quite bent double by this time but definitely slumped, scurried back into the cloakroom ahead of me. As I closed the door and relocked it, she relaxed visibly, but not quite trusting me, she had to get up and check that the door was well and truly locked and then return the key to block the other keyhole.

The trauma of having had to go out into the classroom to get the dolls clearly overwhelmed Jadie. Still hunched over, she sank down onto the bench adjacent to the doll box and peered in at the collection of hard-won dolls, but she seemed unable to summon up enough strength to take them out and play with them. For five minutes or more, she just sat, all the usual liveliness she brought with her into the cloakroom momentarily gone. Then, at last, she reached in and started to take the dolls out. One by one, she lined them up on the bench. When she had finished, she sat back a little and observed them.

“These dolls are pretty,” she said softly.

“Yes, they are nice. I think so, too.”

“Where’d you get them at?”

“I bought them. Not all of them at once, but one at a time, over the years.”

“How come? You’re too big to play with dolls.”

“I bought them for the children I work with.”

Jadie paused, reaching a finger out to gingerly touch the hair on one of the dolls. “Are them the boys and girls you were telling me about that one time? The ones like me that don’t talk?”

“Yes.”

“Did you
really
work with those kids?”

“Yes.”

She looked over. “
Really?
You’re not just making that up?”

“Yes, I really did work with girls and boys like you before. I worked at helping them start talking again and at getting over the kinds of problems that made them stop in the first place. That was my special interest, you see. It’s called ‘research.’ That’s when you want to learn more about something people don’t know much about already. And I was very interested in children who found it hard to talk in certain places. I wanted to know what was wrong, and I wanted to find ways to make things better for them, so that was my research.”

“And did you find out about them?” Jadie asked, her attention going back to the dolls.

“I think so, yes.”

A pause came and it lingered. Jadie was still not playing with the dolls, not even touching them. She just sat, gazing at them. “Them other kids,” she started slowly, “they really didn’t talk? Like me?”

“Yes, just like you.”

“But then you made it better for them? Did you? And then did they talk? They talked to you then? They told you things?”

“Yes.”

She looked up at me. “They told you things?”

I nodded.

“And you believed them?”

“Well, I always try to listen to what people tell me.”

“And then you tried to make it better for them?”

“Well, I did try.”

Silence then. Jadie reached over and picked up one of the Sasha dolls. It had thick, waist-length black hair, which she gently smoothed down. “Can I change this doll’s clothes?”

“Yes, of course. You may dress any of them any way you want. They’re meant for playing.”

Again she caressed its long hair and gazed into its face. Then, bending over the box, Jadie sorted through the clothes, taking out a complete outfit consisting of undershirt and underpants, shirt, overalls, sweater, mittens, coat, shoes, socks, and woolly hat. I went back to work on my plans but stole occasional glimpses of her. She remained tenser than usual. Her shoulders remained hunched, her limbs drawn in close. Even with the doors locked, she didn’t seem much more relaxed than she generally was in the classroom, but she was very intent on what she was doing. So intent, in fact, that it didn’t have the aura of play about it.

With immense care, Jadie removed the clothes that had been on the doll. When it was totally undressed, she gazed at it, running her fingers lightly over the smooth contours of its body. She examined the joints, now rather loosely strung after years of play, and poked her finger into the sockets. She felt the faintly indented belly button. She looked for genitals. Then, with the same tenderness she’d shown undressing the doll, she began to gently ease on the new clothes, starting with the socks and underwear. She worked very slowly, however, and inevitably I had to acknowledge the time.

“We’ve got only a few minutes left, Jadie. It’s almost five o’clock.”

“Don’t say that,” she replied, not looking up.

“There’ll be enough time to finish putting the clothes on, but then we need to go. Mr. O’Banyon will want to lock up.”

“Don’t
say
that.” A bit tetchier in tone.

“You’re not quite ready to go yet, are you?”

“I got no time to play today.”

“Yes, well, perhaps tomorrow. We can leave the things as they are. I don’t think the boys’ll mind if we keep the dolls in here. Then you can pick up where you left off, if you come in tomorrow afternoon.”

Unexpectedly, I saw her lower lip tremble. She clutched the doll tightly between her hands.

“You’re really feeling bad about having to leave. I can see that.”

“I need to finish what I’m doing. I need more
time!
” Then, abruptly, Jadie burst into tears. Leaping up from the bench, she clutched the doll to her chest. “I need to make a place for her! I can’t go now. I need a place for her to be safe!” And with that, Jadie bolted off to the far side of the cloakroom and pressed herself face first into the corner.

Startled by the tears, as I’d never seen Jadie cry before, I rose from my chair.

Still clutching the doll tightly, she darted away from me when I approached. “There’s no place for her to hide,” she wailed, frantically turning her head from side to side in search of concealment. “This is a dumb room. A dumb, stupid room. Where’s she going to hide in a dumb, stupid place like this? There’s no place, and I gotta find a place now, before I go!”

“Jadie, sweetheart—”

“You don’t
understand!
”

“Maybe I do,” I said, keeping my voice soft and reassuring. “And there are still a few minutes left. If you need to do something with the doll and it’ll only take a few minutes, I’m sure there’s time.”

A moment or two longer she watched me through teary eyes, then slowly she began to relax.

I smiled. “Come on, lovey. Finish what you want to do.”

Jadie slowly approached me. “I need to make a place for her,” she said softly, her cheeks still wet. “I want her to be warm and cozy.” Jadie glanced up at me, her expression almost one of embarrassment. “See, that’s why I put these clothes on her. ’Cause she’s always cold. And I was always telling her I’d get some warm clothes for her.”

“Yes.”

“But now I need a place for her.”

“How can I help?” I asked. “What kind of place do you have in mind?”

Jadie scanned the room. “That’s just it. There isn’t any place in here. It’s bare. And I don’t have time to make one for her before I got to go home.” The tremor of tears was in her voice again.

“You want some place to put the doll?”

“A warm place. But it’s got to be safe. She’s got to hide.”

I cast around the room. Jadie was right about there not being many hiding places in here. Then I glanced at the box of doll clothes. “What about in there?” I pointed. “Maybe you could make a good place down in the midst of the doll clothes for her.”

Standing silently beside me, Jadie considered the box a moment and then bent over it and felt into the thickness of clothes. She nodded.

I collected the other dolls and put them into the lid of the box, which was separate, while Jadie knelt and made a hole among the doll clothes. Tenderly, she laid the black-haired doll in and covered her all up, except for her face. “There you are,” she whispered. “All nice and warm.”

Rising, she contemplated the doll in the box; then, with great care, she began picking up the other dolls and placing them gently over the top, leaving the dark-haired doll’s face hardly visible. “She can breathe like that,” Jadie explained, as she arranged the other dolls. “I’ve left an air hole for her. But when anybody comes in here and sees this, they’re not going to know she’s there. They’ll think it’s just an old box of toys.” An anxious glance in my direction. “Won’t they?”

“I’m sure they will.”

“They won’t know she’s in there. She’ll be safe.” Jadie looked up. “And you’ll lock the door, okay?”

I began pulling on my jacket. “Yes, I’ll lock the door. I always do.”

This seemed to satisfy Jadie, and she went to get her own things.

Then, as we prepared to leave, I paused and picked up the lid to the doll clothes box. Gently, I placed it on the box.

“No!” cried Jadie.

“I’ll just put it on lightly, so that it doesn’t get separated from the box and get stepped on or something.”

“No. No, don’t put it on the box. She’d think she was being buried alive, if you put the lid on, and Tashee’s so afraid of that.”