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saw Lisa. Her expression of grief shifted to one of rage, her face contorted by a fury that was almost insane. She leaped from the bench and rushed toward Lisa, her hands stretched before her.
    Her anger was searing, in the same way that a light that is too bright hurts the eyes or a noise that is too loud hurts the ears. This blast of emotion hurt some tender place inside Lisa. It was too much, too powerful, and she staggered under the weight of it.
    But only briefly. For the woman was almost on her now, and Lisa’s sudden terror was far greater than the pain. A scream burst from her lips, and without even realizing it she turned and scrambled up the stairs as fast as she could. Her candle swayed precariously, spattering drops of hot wax. At the top of the stairs Lisa tripped. The candle flew ahead of her, then went out. Sprawling in the darkened hallway, she screamed and screamed. She tried to get to her feet, but she was tangled in her gown and robe.
    Suddenly her father was at her side. He took her by the elbow and helped her to her feed. “Lisa! Lisa, what is it?”
    For a moment she was mute with horror. Gasping, shaking, she tried to tell him what had happened. Nothing would come out. She turned.
    The ghost was still there!
    Rage twisting those familiar features, the ghost reached past Mr. Burton and slapped Lisa across the face.
    Though all she really felt was a moment of numbing cold, Lisa screamed again.
    The ghost vanished.
    Her father was shaking her shoulders. “Lisa! Lisa! What is it?”
    Her mother appeared in the hall behind them. Carrie and her grandmother dashed out of their rooms as well, the concern that etched their faces making them look strangely similar.
    Lisa was gasping for breath. “It was a ghost,” she sobbed. “Didn’t you hear it? It was playing the piano. It was angry. It was after me. Didn’t you hear it?”
    â€œOh, for heaven’s sake,” said her father. “I thought you were old enough to watch those stupid films without going off the deep end. No more Freddy Krueger for you for a while, young lady!”
    â€œDaddy! Don’t you believe me?”
    â€œI believe you had a vivid nightmare,” said her father. Her mother touched his arm. His face softened, and he put an arm around Lisa, drawing her close. “I’m sorry, Lisa. My temper is on a short fuse these days. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. Come on, I’ll sit in your room with you for a while. He gave her a little squeeze. “But I mean it about those films!”
    â€œBut, Daddy…” Lisa stopped. It was no use. Nothing she could say would make her father believe what she had seen.
    But she knew someone believed her. The look on her grandmother’s face told Lisa that Dr. Alice Miles believed every word she had uttered.

Chapter Seven
The Silence of Dr. Miles
    Lisa’s father stayed with her until she dropped into a fitful sleep—though if Carrie had not been there, she doubted she would have slept at all. Again, she was surprised at how much it meant to have another person in the room, no matter how young or silly.
    On Sunday morning while they were still sitting in bed she told this to Carrie, who informed her—in no uncertain terms—that she was not silly at all.
    â€œI’m sorry,” replied Lisa. “Poor choice of words. I should have said ‘young and ridiculous.’”
    At this Carried leaned forward, pulled her pillow from behind her back, and gave Lisa a thump.
    Never one to submit to violence passively, Lisa grabbed her pillow and whacked back.
    Before they knew it, the two girls were chasing each other about the room, their hysterical laughter punctuated by the dull Thwack! Thwack! of pillow warfare.
    Lisa felt wonderful. She found herself laughing harder than she had in days as all the tensions that had been building up inside were being released in the wildness of the crazy pillow fight. She was on