Ghost Girl: The true story of a child in desperate peril – and a teacher who saved her. Torey Hayden
the dolls out. One by one, she lined them up on the bench. When she had finished, she sat back a little and observed them.
“These dolls are pretty,” she said softly.
“Yes, they are nice. I think so, too.”
“Where’d you get them at?”
“I bought them. Not all of them at once, but one at a time, over the years.”
“How come? You’re too big to play with dolls.”
“I bought them for the children I work with.”
Jadie paused, reaching a finger out to gingerly touch the hair on one of the dolls. “Are them the boys and girls you were telling me about that one time? The ones like me that don’t talk?”
“Yes.”
“Did you really work with those kids?”
“Yes.”
She looked over. “Really? You’re not just making that up?”
“Yes, I really did work with girls and boys like you before. I worked at helping them start talking again and at getting over the kinds of problems that made them stop in the first place. That was my special interest, you see. It’s called ‘research.’ That’s when you want to learn more about something people don’t know much about already. And I was very interested in children who found it hard to talk in certain places. I wanted to know what was wrong, and I wanted to find ways to make things better for them, so that was my research.”
“And did you find out about them?” Jadie asked, her attention going back to the dolls.
“I think so, yes.”
A pause came and it lingered. Jadie was still not playing with the dolls, not even touching them. She just sat, gazing at them. “Them other kids,” she started slowly, “they really didn’t talk? Like me?”
“Yes, just like you.”
“But then you made it better for them? Did you? And then did they talk? They talked to you then? They told you things?”
“Yes.”
She looked up at me. “They told you things?”
I nodded.
“And you believed them?”
“Well, I always try to listen to what people tell me.”
“And then you tried to make it better for them?”
“Well, I did try.”
Silence then. Jadie reached over and picked up one of the Sasha dolls. It had thick, waist-length black hair, which she gently smoothed down. “Can I change this doll’s clothes?”
“Yes, of course. You may dress any of them any way you want. They’re meant for playing.”
Again she caressed its long hair and gazed into its face. Then, bending over the box, Jadie sorted through the clothes, taking out a complete outfit consisting of undershirt and underpants, shirt, overalls, sweater, mittens, coat, shoes, socks, and woolly hat. I went back to work on my plans but stole occasional glimpses of her. She remained tenser than usual. Her shoulders remained hunched, her limbs drawn in close. Even with the doors locked, she didn’t seem much more relaxed than she generally was in the classroom, but she was very intent on what she was doing. So intent, in fact, that it didn’t have the aura of play about it.
With immense care, Jadie removed the clothes that had been on the doll. When it was totally undressed, she gazed at it, running her fingers lightly over the smooth contours of its body. She examined the joints, now rather loosely strung after years of play, and poked her finger into the sockets. She felt the faintly indented belly button. She looked for genitals. Then, with the same tenderness she’d shown undressing the doll, she began to gently ease on the new clothes, starting with the socks and underwear. She worked very slowly, however, and inevitably I had to acknowledge the time.
“We’ve got only a few minutes left, Jadie. It’s almost five o’clock.”
“Don’t say that,” she replied, not looking up.
“There’ll be enough time to finish putting the clothes on, but then we need to go. Mr. O’Banyon will want to lock up.”
“Don’t say that.” A bit tetchier in tone.
“You’re not quite ready to go yet, are you?”
“I got no time to play today.”
“Yes, well, perhaps tomorrow. We can leave the things as they are. I don’t think the boys’ll mind if we keep the dolls in here. Then you can pick up where you left off, if you come in tomorrow afternoon.”
Unexpectedly, I saw her lower lip tremble. She clutched the doll tightly between her hands.
“You’re really feeling bad about having to leave. I can see that.”
“I need to finish what I’m doing. I need more time!” Then, abruptly, Jadie burst into tears. Leaping up from the bench, she clutched the doll to her chest. “I need to make a place for her! I can’t go now. I need a place for her to be safe!” And with that, Jadie bolted off to the far side of the cloakroom and pressed herself face first into the corner.
Startled by the tears, as I’d never seen Jadie cry before, I rose from my chair.
Still clutching the doll tightly, she darted away from me when I approached. “There’s no place for her to hide,” she wailed, frantically turning her head from side to side in search of concealment. “This is a dumb room. A dumb, stupid room. Where’s she going to hide in a dumb, stupid place like this? There’s no place, and I gotta find a place now, before I go!”
“Jadie, sweetheart—”
“You don’t understand!”
“Maybe I do,” I said, keeping my voice soft and reassuring. “And there are still a few minutes left. If you need to do something with the doll and it’ll only take a few minutes, I’m sure there’s time.”
A moment or two longer she watched me through teary eyes, then slowly she began to relax.
I smiled. “Come on, lovey. Finish what you want to do.”
Jadie slowly approached me. “I need to make a place for her,” she said softly, her cheeks still wet. “I want her to be warm and cozy.” Jadie glanced up at me, her expression almost one of embarrassment. “See, that’s why I put these clothes on her. ’Cause she’s always cold. And I was always telling her I’d get some warm clothes for her.”
“Yes.”
“But now I need a place for her.”
“How can I help?” I asked. “What kind of place do you have in mind?”
Jadie scanned the room. “That’s just it. There isn’t any place in here. It’s bare. And I don’t have time to make one for her before I got to go home.” The tremor of tears was in her voice again.
“You want some place to put the doll?”
“A warm place. But it’s got to be safe. She’s got to hide.”
I cast around the room. Jadie was right about there not being many hiding places in here. Then I glanced at the box of doll clothes. “What about in there?” I pointed. “Maybe you could make a good place down in the midst of the doll clothes for her.”
Standing silently beside me, Jadie considered the box a moment and then bent over it and felt into the thickness of clothes. She nodded.
I collected the other dolls and put them into the lid of the box, which was separate, while Jadie knelt and made a hole among the doll clothes. Tenderly, she laid the black-haired doll in and covered her all up, except for her face. “There you are,” she whispered. “All nice and warm.”