Tabitha Gray's thirteenth birthday was not
what she had hoped. "Everything is different in
the teens," Grandmother had hinted, but she
hadn't said why.
Her mother seemed to think everything was
just fine. But it WASN'T! Not since it started.
Why hadn't they warned her? Tab would have
stamped her foot, but that was the problem.
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It was such a
shocking thing to
have no footprints!
She had stepped
out of the bathtub
dripping wet. We
just KNOW that wet
feet leave wet foot-
prints. How could
she possibly have
none?
It was insane!
She couldn't feel
the floor either.
She tried to stamp
her foot, but only
a few drops landed.
Lots of small
wet spots on the
tiles, but no
footprints.
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She trembled, not only with chill.
Again and again, she tried. Through tears,
she said, "Why can't I get my foot down?"
With a small jolt, the floor was definitely
there, and when she raised her foot, Tab saw a
footprint. She took a step, and then there were
two. But what had happened to all the others?
With shaky hands she dressed and fled to the
kitchen where her mother was already up to her
elbows in weekend baking. "Mom?" she said.
"Uh-hmm?"
"I'm scared."
"Bad dream?"
"No. Yes... I hope so."
"Well, nightmares can be very real sometimes.
That's why they frighten us so."
"But Mom, I had no footprints!"
Her mother went to the spice rack where she
chose oregano and white pepper. Tab didn't know
that with all her own troubles, her mother didn't
think Tabitha's dreams were important just then.
"Mom, listen!" Her voice rose as Tab
insisted, "I had no footprints, Mom." She huddled
on a stool, trembling.
"Oh don't be silly, Tabitha."
"It wasn't a dream I tell you! I tested it!"
"That's crazy." Her mother slipped
three pasta casseroles into a hot oven and
impatiently slammed the oven door.
"Mo-ther!" Tabitha saw the hard look of
annoyance between her mother's neat brows and was
hurt. She doesn't believe me, she thought, and
knew how impossible it was when her mother's mind
was made up. "Oh what's the use?" She rose to
go.
Her mother looked up. "Don't forget to bring
down your laundry."
"I really and truly had no footprints!" Tab
spat out.
"Now you stop that, Tabitha!"
"I can't. It happened."
"Don't lie. Now you stop it before I get
really mad at you." Mrs. Gray clattered the
stainless steel mixing bowl in the sink for
emphasis as she washed it and put it away.
Feeling dismissed, Tab walked slowly away,
taking a side trip over the newly vacuumed living
room carpet, finding comfort in the line of
footprints she left in its thick pile.
She even smiled-- But that was weeks ago.
It had got worse. A lot worse.
*
As he walked the last block home, eight-year-
old Gregory Gray kicked a pebble off the sidewalk.
Rolph and Karl, the school bullies, had followed
him to the Mike's Milk store again, but he had
slipped out a back door. He smiled. They were
probably waiting there still.
That's not what was bothering him.
It was his sister. "Tabby disease! Tabby
disease!" they chanted, and pretended he was
infectious.
It wasn't fair! Sure, he used to fight with
her sometimes, but as sisters went, Tab wasn't so
bad. I mean, what-all can you expect of a sister?
Now, with the teasing, she was what Mom once
called a "liability."
He found the door unlocked, and yelled,
"Hey, I'm home!" Not that his mother would be
there yet. A teacher at the High School, she
seldom got home before five. "Ta-aa-bby!"
No answer. That's funny, the door wasn't
locked, he thought, and a shiver shook him.
*
Upstairs in her
bedroom, Tabitha had
heard him all right.
Heard, but didn't
dare answer. Gregory
was the LAST person
she wanted to see.
It seemed she had
floated in the air
for hours already.
She had come home
at noon after one of
her attacks....
She'd told Muffet,
her cat, how upset
she was, and abruptly,
as she rose, he went
electric! His long
fur stood on end and
he screeched under
the bed to hide in
its farthest reaches.
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Still uptight, she hung there. It was awful.
No matter how wildly she flung her arms about or
kicked her feet, nothing happened. Cross and
tired she had cried, but it didn't do any good.
For a while she rested, quite still, floating
there.
And now Greggy was home. He must not find her
like this! What if Greggy TOLD?
She heard him drop his books by the door like
he always did. With her hand over her mouth,
Tabitha waited.
She heard a squeak. Something thumped down.
Scraping. A clatter. I'll bet he's making
himself a sandwich, Tab thought.
She could imagine him in the kitchen.
"Bread," he'd say, "Check. Peanut butter, brown
sugar, banana, corn syrup..." Tab's mouth was dry.
It was so unfair! She'd drift until she starved
to death, and there was Greggy stuffing his
face!
*
When Gregory heard her distress, he figured
he'd better check it out. The hair at the back of
his neck tingled as he mounted step after step,
imagining a burglar with a knife...
You must understand that Gregory was no
coward. Of all the boys his age he was always the
first to try anything new. Other kids waited for
him to test the new ice in the fall, and if he
didn't walk on it, neither did they. Gregory was
a brave boy but he was no fool.
That sound... Uneasily he followed it
upstairs.
Whimpering. Moaning. Sobbing. As he
mounted step after step he knew it was Tabitha.
Always active, his imagination took over. There
was an intruder, some pervert, holding her
captive, a hairy arm around her chest, ooh, a
knife at her throat... and poor Tab struggling,
in tears... Greggy's magnificent sandwich tilted,
forgotten in his hand, and dripped on the
carpet.
What could he do? Storm the room with guns
blazing and waste him? No, that was not for
real and besides his batteries were dead.
He could at least distract the man somehow
so Tab could run for it. But how?
I know, he thought. He dragged the
ladder-back chair to the door, leaving two trails
in the carpet. A heavy weapon... he had heard
that amazing strength often came from nowhere when
it was needed. He'd defend her to the death!
Awesome, that he had never thought of it
before, but Tabby mattered to him! Greg inhaled
three times when he found he'd been holding his
breath. Chair in hand, very cautiously he eased
the door open.
"CREEPERS!" he said.
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Tabitha and Greg
stared at each other.
She lay there in the
air, high above him
near the ceiling.
Nothing held her
up there.
Nothing at all.
Silence.
On the street,
the red dog next door
barked as his master
came home. A car door
slammed, and the happy
whines whines told
them that Rusty was
getting his daily
dose of affection
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With his ears tingling from his master's touch,
Rusty'd be happy to wait until next time.
Soundlessly Greg stood there and stared.
Tab stared back. Any other time, she'd have
demanded, 'Who asked YOU in?' but now she said
nothing. Greggy looks so funny from up here, she
thought, with his face turned up and his mouth
open... He looked like he couldn't believe what
he was seeing. I don't believe it either, she
thought.
*
That floating thing just couldn't be Tabby,
could it? Gregory thought about it. No, it had
to be a HOLOGRAM or something.
Besides, it hadn't said anything.
The real Tabby couldn't shut up like that.
Like a statue, he stood and stared at the
perfectly lifelike detail in the apparition above
his head.
*