Thirteen

A tiny staircase led from a narrow doorway in the corridor, behind Tilly’s rooms, and up to the attic, The stairs creaked, and the dust made Amelia want to cough. She had closed the door carefully behind her so no one could see the shine of her flashlight as she climbed.

She wasn’t supposed to go to the attic, but when she was lucky, she got to play up there almost every day. Tilly liked her to come home from school, eat her snack, and lie down to rest for a while. Amelia often waited until she heard Tilly go upstairs to her apartment again, then slipped from her own room and up the stairs.

This was the first time she’d come at night. Daddy would be angry if he found out, but he’d left with that lady Celina and probably wouldn’t be back too soon. Amelia was certain Daddy was dating Celina and she didn’t know how she felt about that yet. Tilly often talked about how Daddy should get married again because he was too young not to have a wife for the rest of his life, and because it would be a good thing for Amelia to have a mother. Amelia didn’t want a mother. She liked looking at the pictures of her real mother, and being with her daddy. But if Daddy needed a wife, then Amelia supposed she wouldn’t be a brat about it. She’d try anyway—unless Celina called her precocious like that lady Amelia and Daddy had met in the street once. The lady had kissed Daddy, and Amelia had told her she didn’t think that was appropriate. Then the lady said she was precocious.

She’d just wait and see about Celina. She was pretty. Tilly was waiting to see too, but said she thought Celina might be okay. Nanny Summers wouldn’t like it though. Mama had been Nanny’s only child and she said they should never forget Mama.

At the top of the stairs another door opened into the attic. A pointed ceiling rose high over Amelia’s head, and boxes were stacked against every wall. There was also an old sewing machine with ivy leaves painted on it, and a dummy thing for pinning clothes on. The dummy didn’t have a head, so Amelia had put a hat on it and draped a piece of lace over the top so you couldn’t tell about the head unless you looked really close.

In one corner was a trunk. On the front, fancy letters on a dirty metal label spelled out ELISE SUMMERS. That was Amelia’s mama. She lifted the lid carefully so it wouldn’t bang when she leaned it against the wall. Inside was a big box with a window of plastic in the top. The box was taped and Amelia had left it that way. She knew this was Mama’s wedding dress. She’s seen it in photographs of Mama and Daddy on their wedding day anyway, but one day she’d get to take it out of the box because she was going to wear it when she got married. That reminded her that she needed to get going on that. Daddy said you should take your time finding someone to marry, just to be certain you’d keep on loving them no matter what. Amelia wasn’t sure what he meant by “no matter what.”

Under the box were other pretty things wrapped in tissue paper. Pieces of lace. A white nightie and robe, and slippers with little pearls sewn on them. And there were books from when Mama and Daddy were in school. Amelia had found their pictures. They looked funny.

And there were baby clothes. She was sure they had been hers, and it was hard to wait to ask Daddy. Meanwhile she had brought her big baby doll, Fanny, up to live in the attic and she wore Amelia’s baby clothes all the time.

Would Celina come to live in their house, Amelia wondered. And if she did, would everything change?

Daddy had taken Celina home, but would probably be back soon.

Roland’s mama had got married again just before he came to kindergarten. Amelia knew because she and Roland were friends and he’d told her. She’d tried not to be rude when she asked questions, but she’d asked them anyway. Roland said it was okay to have a new dad, that his new dad played ball with him. But now his mama was having another baby. Amelia said, “Yuck” aloud. She wouldn’t like it if Daddy got married and there was a new baby. It would probably want to touch all her things.

She cuddled Fanny and closed the trunk again. From the little window set low in the sloping roof, Amelia could peek all the way down to the street. She went to climb on the suitcase she kept there. She could watch for Daddy to come home. Then she’d run down to bed.

Outside it was very dark. There wasn’t any moon, but she’d see him come under the streetlights.

She wasn’t going to look at the house across the street anymore. There was a lady who lived there who didn’t go out. She had another lady who looked after her. Tilly had told Amelia that.

Amelia thought the lady who lived there might not be nice. Of course she wasn’t a ghost, Amelia had made that up, but she might be a witch, and she might be the kind of witch who wanted to kidnap little girls and make them work for her. That nearly happened to Phillymeana once when she’d been mean to the dragon prince and he’d gone away to mend his heart. She didn’t have him to help her then. If she hadn’t sent a message to the North Pole so Santa’s friend, Polar Bear, could tie up the witch with a rope made from her own broom bristles, the witch would have got Phillymeana.

A little light flashed on and off—a red light, but really small. It was in the window in the lady’s house.

Amelia had turned off her flashlight before she climbed onto the suitcase. She pressed her nose to the glass and peered down at the red light. It went out and didn’t come back on again.

The lady had lace curtains in her windows.

One of them moved, one in the same window where the red light had come on and off.

Amelia shivered. She wasn’t cold, just scared of that mean old lady over there who stayed up in the night to spy on people. At least, Amelia was almost certain that’s what she did. And she’d seen the curtain move in the daytime too.

The curtain moved again.

A face. Amelia covered her own face, then separated her fingers and looked through them.

A white face was looking through the window, and after a moment or two it put something over its eyes. Amelia made herself look as closely as she could.

Why that wicked lady had binoculars, didn’t she? And she was looking straight into Amelia’s own apartment—right into Amelia’s bedroom.