sensibilities to draw from those around you.
"That is what I have always tried to do.' Because all of us had become so close, we
shared our most painful memories as well as our
happiest. Cinnamon's sense of isolation from her peers
was something all of us had felt at one time or
another. Ice's estrangement from her mother, her pain
and difficulty in expressing herself struck a
sympathetic note, especially with Rose, whose mother
had literally deserted her for a long time. And my
oppressive Grandad, my loss of Uncle Peter, made me
timid and afraid of stepping out into the world. Who could possibly be more different from her
peers than Gerta? How difficult it was for her to really
communicate with anyone. Look how estranged she
was from her own mother. How terrified she was of the world outside? In one way or another, we were all
Gerta.
The door creaked on its hinges as if it wanted to
warn Ms. Fairchild that it was being violated. No
matter how slowly Cinnamon pulled it open, it
groaned. We held our breaths and listened for any
sound of her footsteps. Cinnamon opened it a little
farther, and we were all able to slip in, closing it as
softly as we could behind us.
We all looked at one another. No one had to say
it.
Now, it was too late to turn back.
13 Gerta's Story
When we closed the door behind us and turned, we all stopped and stared in awe. The long, dark hallway was dimly lit by black candles in ivory holders mounted on the walls. Light dripped down in a waxy pool over the tiled floor. The candles flickered as though they'd been left by someone hurrying past, fleeing from discovery, diving into the darkness like a toad seeking the cover of murky water. All was still, but from somewhere above us, we could hear muffled voices. They sounded like words trapped in the building's ancient pipes, words spoken ages ago by others as young as we were and just as afraid. Of course, we assumed it was Gerta playing her records.
"Why is the hallway like this?" Rose was the first to ask. "I feel like I'm descending into a cavern or something."
"How strange," I said. "Obviously. Gerta is not the only one living in her own private world," Cinnamon muttered.
"I don't think we should go any farther." Ice said. The chill in her voice made my o