The Pillow Friend by Lisa Tuttle Read Free Book Online

she was on the verge of sleep, and it wasn't at all as she had imagined it would be. He didn't tell her stories; he didn't even sound as if he was talking to her. It was more as if she was catching fragments of a conversation he was having with someone else. She could only catch a few words at a time, and they didn't make much sense to her. She felt the temptation to try to make them make sense, to weave those few words and sentence fragments into a story, to create for herself what she had hoped he would tell her. But she resisted that urge, and concentrated on what he told her, trying to make sense of it by writing it down in a notebook she kept beside her bed.
    Although she was glad to have been successful at last, the reality of her relationship with Myles was not as she had imagined it would be. It did not make her happy.
     
     
    Summer ended and it was time to start school again. On the first day, Agnes abruptly made up her mind to go into second grade alone. She took Myles out of the pencil box and put him back on her bed. She felt a little guilty about it, because he might not like being left behind, but there was also a great sense of relief as she ran down the stairs swinging her empty book bag so it slapped against her bare legs. If Myles wasn't with her she wouldn't be tempted to do things that might get her into trouble. And if he punished her by keeping quiet at night—well, maybe that wasn't the worst thing that could happen.
    As soon as Agnes got home she rushed straight upstairs to tell her doll about her day, and start winning his forgiveness. Her room was tidy, the clothes she'd left on the floor had been put away, her bed was made, and Myles was gone.
    If her mother had taken him off the pillow when she made up the bed she might have put him on a shelf, or in the dollhouse, or on the table. He was in none of those places, nor was he even—and she emptied it completely to make sure—in the toy basket.
    “Mom! Mommy!” Shouting, she ran out into the hall and straight into Rosamund, who grabbed her and shook her slightly. “Stop that yelling! Mother's not feeling well, she's lying down in her room. Tell me what's wrong.”
    “I want my doll.”
    “You're big enough to fetch your own toys.”
    “He's gone! I left him on my bed and now he's gone!”
    “Well, she must have moved him when she made your bed. If you'd make your own bed up you wouldn't have this problem. Come on, I'm sure we can find your doll without bothering Mother.”
    But no matter where Rosamund looked, Myles was not to be found.
     
     
    “Are you sure you didn't take him to school? The way you were carrying him around all summer, I can't believe you left him at home.”
    “We don't take dolls to school in second grade,” she muttered.
    “Oh, we're all grown up now, huh? Look in your book bag anyway.”
    Although she knew she hadn't taken Myles to school, her sister's question raised another possibility in her mind. What if Myles had been so annoyed by being left behind that he had tried to come after her, or hidden himself somewhere, to make her sorry?
    Well, she was sorry, and she waited anxiously for bedtime, when she was sure he would return to punish her.
    But Myles did not return, not that night, or the next, or the one after that. This was her punishment, she realized, not a temporary absence but total loss. She had been tested and found wanting.
    She mourned him, she grieved, but her unhappiness was far from consuming. She was too young, their relationship had been too odd and difficult, there was too much else to think about, too many things to learn at school, new friends, a new teacher, books to be read, games to be played. Her days were very full; it was really only at bedtime that her thoughts turned, sadly, to her lost companion.
    Sometimes she took up her bedside notebook to read and reread the words which were all that he'd left her, looking for an answer she never found.
     

    a rose

never mind. Shrinking, and