Free Spyhole Secrets by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

stammer, “Because—because I want to talk to you.” And then, while his mouth was just beginning to shape itself in another “why,” she had an inspiration. “As a psychiatrist, I mean. I’ve been wanting to talk to a psychiatrist for a long time. So maybe I could be—like someone for you to practice on.”
    That took a lot of thought, but when the lips finally puckered to form a W sound, what came out was not “why” but “where?”
    They wound up sitting on the bench at the bus stop at the end of the block. While that was being decided on, and during the time it took to walk down to the corner, Hallie’s mind was racing, coming up with an interesting idea or two. So once they were seated, with the kid’s books neatly stacked beside him, she began by saying that maybe, if he was going to be her psychiatrist, they ought to introduce themselves.
    “My name is Hallie,” she said. “Hallie Meredith. What’s yours?”
    “Zachary,” he said. “I’m Zachary.”
    But when Hallie asked his other name he shook his head. “Zachary is enough,” he said. But then he smiled, a small private smile, and added, “Except for Doctor. Doctor Zachary.”
    “Okay.” Hallie suppressed a grin. “Doctor Zachary. Got it.”
    “Okay.” He took a notebook and pencil out of the side pocket of his backpack. “What did you want to talk about?”
    Working on what she ought to say next, narrowing her eyes and chewing on her lip, Hallie put on a deep-in-thought act. “So,” she began, “so, Doctor Zachary…” But she had to stop then while she straightened out an even more insistent grin. The crazy little dork was just too funny, sitting there in the midst of all those fat books with a supersolemn expression on his babyish face, and with his great big lug-soled shoes swinging at the end of his short, skinny legs.
    “So … how old are you anyway, Doctor Zachary?” It wasn’t what she’d meant to say but it just slipped out. If he didn’t like the question, it didn’t show. At least not so she could notice it. But he did frown a little when she went on, in a teasing way, “And don’t ask me
why
I want to know.”
    “I won’t,” he said. “I already know why. It’s because I don’t act my age.” He shrugged. “That’s what a lot of people say anyway.”
    “Which is?” Hallie prompted him.
    “Nine” he said. “Well, almost nine. My birthday is in November.”
    So the doctor was going on nine years old. Hallie unbit her lip and then said, “Well, what I’ve been wanting to talk to a psychiatrist about is…” Suddenly she had a great idea! “Well, it’s about these strange dreams I’ve been having.”
    The kid—Dr. Zachary, that is—looked almost enthusiastic. The most enthusiastic, actually, that Hallie had seen him look about anything. “Yes,” he said approvingly. “Dreams. Dreams are good. What kind of dreams?”
    Now she was ready for him. “Well, most of them have been about this girl. This girl who lives high up in a tower, and she has this awesome hair. Long and blond, like, way down past her waist. Only her eyes are very dark. Very big and dark. And she is standing—in this dream, she’s standing in this window staring down toward a busy street. And she’s looking sad, or maybe kind of angry.”
    Dr. Zachary was definitely interested. He stared at Hallie for quite a while before he said, “How old is she, the girl in your dream?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. Pretty young, though. Probably a teenager. Yeah, she’s this really gorgeous blond teenager.”
    “Hmm,” the doctor said. “That sounds like my sister.”

“Y our sister!” Hallie tried to sound absolutely amazed. Zachary nodded. “Except for the beautiful part.”
    “You mean you don’t think she is?”
    He nodded. “I don’t,” he said, “but I guess some people do.” His forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. “Why would you dream about my sister?”
    Hallie shrugged and swallowed a smile. “How should I know? You