The Visitor Read Free Page B

room. “Roger, help your sister out, or she’ll be in trouble.”
    Roger rolled his eyes, but he took her up to her room, where she had her own little white bed with a ruffled pink pillow. The pillow was a birthday present from Father.
    â€œWhere’s your pillow?” Roger asked, as he retied her shoes.
    Dismé whispered, “Rashel took it.”
    â€œRashel!” said Roger. “I can’t put anything down if she’s around. She’s a magpie for stealing. I’ll speak to Father.”
    â€œDon’t Roger. Please.”
    â€œI will. I’ll make her stop this!”
    And Roger did. And Father spoke to Rashel. And Rashel said the kind of thing she usually said.
    â€œI did not! I saw her throw it under her bed her own self.”
    And when they went to look, there the pillow was, under the bed, dusty, with a hole torn in the ruffle, though Dismé knew she hadn’t put it there.
    Father shook his head, his face full of disappointment. Call-Her-Mother’s voice cooed: “Well, Dismé, if you’re not going to take care of things, we’ll give it to Rashel. She takes care of things.”
    â€œWhere’s your shawl, Dismé?” Father asking. “The one that was your mother’s?”
    â€œI have it put away.” She had seen Rashel put it in the back of her armoire, but it would not do to say so.
    â€œWhere’s your quilt that Aunty made for you, Dismé?” Aunt Gayla asking.
    â€œIn the wash.” As it well might be, though Dismé hadn’t put it there.
    Rashel tried taking things from Roger, too, but though Roger was a year younger than Rashel, he was bigger and stronger. One day, he slapped Rashel hard, leaving a red handprint on her face, and he told her if she ever told a lie about him or Dismé again, he’d tell the Regime! Dismé saw it all from the stair landing where a pair of heavy curtains made a perfect hideaway. From the time Rashel and Call-Her-Mother had come, Dismé had watched them, desperate to figure them out. True Mother once told her, “You must always know your enemies, Dis. The more you know, the safer you are.” Maybe Rashel had believed Roger’s threat, for none of Dismé’s few remaining belongings disappeared or turned up broken for a while.
    When spring came, so did Rashel’s birthday, and Call-Her-Mother planned a picnic at Riverpark for the whole family. Father and Call-Her-Mother carried the baskets, striding on ahead of the children to the Stone Bridge that curved over the River Tey, at this time of the year roaring with muddy run-off from the snows up Mt. P’Jardas way. Dismé went across and stopped in the shade to wait for Roger, who was explaining to Rashel why she should stop showing off, walking on the railing.
    â€œIt’s fun,” said Rashel, loftily, arms extended for balance. “You’re just afraid to try it.”
    â€œI have tried it, stupid. Just not this time of year, when the river’s full like this! It’s dangerous!”
    â€œThat’s what makes it fun. Otherwise, it’s just like walking along the railroad track. You slip off, it doesn’t matter. I said you were afraid of the danger, and you’ve just admitted it.”
    â€œI am not afraid,” he said, very red in the face, as he started to climb up next to Rashel.
    Dismé screamed at him. “Roger. Don’t get up there!” Then, when he paid no attention, she ran as fast as she could after Father, to get him to make Roger and Rashel stop.
    â€œThey’re what?” cried Father, heading back down the path. “I thought Roger had better sense than that.”
    Call-Her-Mother sat down on a stump and shook her head in exasperation.
    Dismé halted, biting her lip, not knowing which way to go. She was still vacillating when Father’s great shout came echoing up the hillside, sending her scrambling down the hill, suddenly