Free Nightmare by Joan Lowery Nixon Page B

will work. Maybe rose or light green eye shadow?”
    Haley didn’t answer, so Taylor turned to Emily. “Are you mad at me, too?” she asked.
    Emily softened at the open hurt on Taylor’s face. “I’m not mad at you,” she answered. “I’m just surprised. The change you’ve made takes getting used to.” She kept hergaze on Taylor as she said, “For the first time I can see what you really look like. You’re pretty, Taylor. Your cheekbones are high, like a model’s. I hadn’t noticed before.”
    “Then you don’t care that I copied your hair?”
    “I don’t care,” Emily said, although she wasn’t really sure how she felt. It was strange seeing a reflection of herself in another person. No one had ever seemed to think she was worth copying before.
    She glanced up to see some of the other kids from their van arriving. A few stared from Emily to Taylor and back again. One of the girls gasped, turning around too late to hide the startled expression on her face.
    Emily slumped, letting her hair fall forward, hiding behind it. She should have realized immediately that what Taylor had done would attract attention. She hated being stared at. She hated being noticed. She wished with all her power that Taylor hadn’t chosen to imitate her.
    The van drove up and the driver jumped out, throwing the side doors open. Emily climbed into the van, choosing a seat in the back, as far from everyone else as she could get.
    Wishing she were invisible, Emily didn’t speak during the drive back to Camp Excel. The others didn’t seem to care. They were all busy talking. Emily heard scraps of conversation about some of the shops in Lampley, about its funny little museum, and once she caught Taylor’s name and her own. As someone giggled, Emily cringed and slid even farther down in the seat.
    When the van pulled up to the parking area in front of the central building, Emily, head down, followed everyone out. She started toward the main building but was stopped when Haley grasped her arm.
    “Where are you going?” Haley asked.
    Emily pulled her arm away and looked at her watch. “I’ve got an appointment with Dr. Anderson at five-thirty. I don’t want to be late.”
    Haley gave an impatient shrug. “Oh, that. Big nothing. Because Dr. Lorene Anderson’s the chief assistant to Dr. Isaacson, she writes his student reports. I met with her this morning. She’ll just ask you a bunch of questions about stuff you’re interested in and if you’ve set any goals for yourself. You know. You’ve heard it all before. It won’t take long. I’ll wait for you.”
    Across the way Emily saw Taylor enter the dorm. She thought ahead to when they’d both show up for dinner and knew how people would stare and talk. She couldn’t bear it. She’d skip dinner. She’d send word that she wasn’t hungry and stay in her room.
    “Em?” Haley asked. “Aren’t you listening? I said I’d wait for you. We can stick around a few minutes, then go in to dinner together.”
    “No,” Emily said. “Don’t wait. I don’t want you to wait.” She ran from Haley into the cool, air-conditioned building, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature.
    The lobby was empty, so she relaxed a little, standing still, closing her eyes, and taking three deep breaths. For a moment she knew she’d been close to panic, and panic wouldn’t help any situation.
    What difference would it make if people stared?
she asked herself.
It shouldn’t really matter to me what people think
.
    But hadn’t she always felt afraid to be noticed, to be the focus of staring eyes? Wasn’t she more secure in back rows and quiet corners, hidden behind her curtain of hair?
    Why have I always been like this?
Emily wondered. She ached to know the answer, but there was none.
    Slowly she walked down the hallway. There were names on a few of the doors. She passed Dr. Lydia Hampton’s office and, across the hall, the office and clinic run by Maria Jimenez, the nurse.
    The next door