§ § § - November 6, 1982

Everyone stared at Andrea in disbelief; even Frida was shocked out of her crying. "But wouldn't that be like brainwashing?" Maureen wanted to know.

This inquiry sparked a lively debate among the girls; Frida merely stared, while Roarke and Tattoo glanced at each other and then both looked at Leslie, who was slowly shaking her head. Roarke caught her gaze and beckoned at her; she leaned over the desk towards him and spoke before he could. "It's too simple, Mr. Roarke," she said flatly. "And anyway, I can already see it wouldn't work."

"Indeed," said Roarke, "and may I ask how you arrived at this conclusion?"

"Frida's influence on people's emotions and thoughts is only temporary," Leslie said. "Just a minute ago when she was crying, I felt like crying too. But the moment she stopped crying, I didn't have that feeling anymore. I felt sympathetic, but not to the point of tears. If her influence on emotions lasts only as long as the emotion, then it stands to reason that the same is true of her influence on thought. As long as she was projecting at Camille that Camille didn't hate Swedish people, she wouldn't - but as soon as Frida stopped, Camille would just go right back to being bigoted. So it wouldn't do any good."

Roarke nodded; she had produced the explanation he had expected to hear. "Excellent, Leslie," he said approvingly. "You are quite correct."

Their quiet discussion had gradually attracted the attention of their companions, who heard only Roarke's last comment. "What's she right about?" Myeko asked.

Leslie quickly repeated her line of reasoning; her friends looked at one another, and Andrea nodded in understanding. "I see what you're getting at. But there might be a way we can use Frida's ability to help bring my sister to her senses. I don't know just how, but give me a night to sleep on it and I might just come up with something. Frida, are you busy tomorrow?"

"I work at Julie's inn," Frida said. "I won't have free time until the afternoon."

"That's all right," Andrea said. "It gives me more time to think." She turned to Roarke. "If you still need to talk to Frida, Mr. Roarke, that's fine, but I think I've done all I can do for a day. Everybody, thanks for coming over and helping out. I think Leslie and Frida and I can start working on wrapping this thing up."

"What, and leave us in suspense?" Michiko asked in mock outrage. "I don't think so, Andrea Ichino. Now that you've got us involved, you're not getting rid of us. Whatever you decide to do, count me in."

"Me too," Myeko declared.

"And me...but only if you can use our help," Maureen said. "Even if you can't, I still want to know how it all turns out. So either you or Leslie better get in touch with us and fill us in."

"I promise to let you know as soon as I cook up a plan," said Andrea. "Thank you, Frida, for coming over. I think you especially are going to be a lot of help."

When she and the other girls had left, Roarke regarded Frida thoughtfully for a moment. "So you have tried to control your emotions to prevent their influencing those around you," he said. "Have you been successful?"

"I forced myself to succeed," Frida said. "The first time it happened, what came after it was so terrible that I knew I must always control myself very carefully. My adopting parents locked me in my room for a week. And I knew this ability caused distress to others, so I learned to be very careful."

"That explains why you never react when Camille insults you," said Leslie. "It must make you really angry, but you're controlling it to keep it from spreading around."

"Yes, exactly so," Frida said, nodding. "To control my emotions, it is helpful if I don't speak what I am thinking. If I do, so then my feelings come out and I cannot control them any longer. I hope you understand. I never mean to be cold or not friendly, Leslie. But it is so difficult when Camille is around, and I cannot speak except that my feelings are in others' minds. And this is not right, Mr. Roarke."

Roarke smiled. "It seems you have done a truly commendable job of maintaining control," he told her warmly. "There may come a day when the ability will be useful to you in some way, but for now, you have done all you can do. Why don't you return home and get some rest—Leslie will take you back to Julie's house."

When they were gone, Tattoo sighed. "What a terrible way for a girl like her to grow up," he said sympathetically. "Abused by her adoptive parents and never knowing who her real ones might be, or even if they're still alive. It's a real shame, boss."

"Indeed," Roarke agreed, "but unfortunately, Frida isn't ready to face that issue, and may never be so. It's her decision. Perhaps one day she will change her mind."

§ § § - November 7, 1982

By the next afternoon Andrea hadn't come up with any plans, and was beginning to get the feeling that she'd run into the proverbial brick wall. She was so preoccupied she barely spoke to Camille, who withdrew after a few attempts to draw her sister out. Andrea ate lunch on automatic pilot, then got up and gathered her purse and ever-present notebook.

"Where are you going now?" Camille wanted to know.

"Yes, I wouldn't mind knowing that myself," broke in Katie Ichino, eyeing both her daughters as she spoke. "You've spent barely twelve hours at home since you arrived, Andrea, and most of that asleep. Where do you keep running off to?"

"And why won't you even talk to me anymore?" Camille demanded.

Andrea came out of her frantic reverie long enough to cast her sister an impatient glance. "I told you, I'm trying to research my article," she said, annoyed.

But Camille seemed determined to throw a monkey wrench into Andrea's intentions. "What's this thing all about?" she persisted. "I don't get it, Andrea. I thought you'd tell us all about what happened at the trial."

Finally fully jolted out of her mental haze, Andrea squinted at her sister long enough to make Camille squirm. Maybe Camille's pestering could come in handy after all, she reflected—and at that moment she knew what she could do. Her gaze turned narrow and chilly. "As a matter of fact, I'm meeting the girls who used to be your friends. They've all turned out to be very nice people, and more than willing to help me research my article. Since I'm going to be with them, I doubt you'll want to hang around with us."

"Wanna bet?" Camille shot back angrily. "If you think I'm letting those traitors steal my sister away, you've got another think coming. I'm going with you, and I don't care if you like it or not."

Andrea carefully hid a satisfied smirk. "Fine," she said carelessly. "Come if you want, but don't be surprised if they ignore you."

"I don't see how you can hang out with them anyway," Camille sniped as the two sisters walked along a well-worn path, known only to locals, through the jungle toward the main house. "Especially with that stupid girl, after what that jerk did to you. I mean, for cryin' out loud, you'd think she was the flipping queen of the world or something, the way everybody stuck up for her at Myeko's party. And the way she's freeloading off Julie MacNabb and all..." She continued on in this vein all the way to the main house, falling silent only when they came close enough to ascertain that Leslie and all the other girls were standing in a group beside the fountain out front. Andrea counted heads and was pleased to see that everyone was there, including Frida.

"Hi, everybody," she said cheerfully.

"Hi, Andrea," a ragged chorus came back. There was a conspicuous lack of greeting for Camille, who glared defiantly at the other girls as if daring any of them to say something to her.

Then Maureen said, "So...did you come up with any ideas, Andrea?"

Andrea glanced at the group near the fountain, at Camille, and then back at the others. "Matter of fact," she said, "I thought we might try interviewing Camille here."

Stunned looks crossed everyone's faces, and Leslie, Maureen, Myeko, Michiko, Lauren and Frida glanced at one another. "Can't imagine what'd she'd have to say that's worth listening to," Lauren said, curling her lip.

Andrea gave her cousin a reproachful look. "Come on, Lauren, you know reporters have to be impartial and unbiased," she said. "That means you get both sides of the story. And in this case, the other side is Camille's. So it's only fair that we let her have her say."

"Who's 'we'?" Lauren retorted coldly. "Sorry, Andrea, but I'm outta here."

"That's up to you," said Andrea, "but that's just stooping to petty childishness. Besides, you'll get your say too, you know."

Lauren hesitated for a long moment; then, scowling, she sighed loudly and rejoined the others. "Oh, all right," she grunted grudgingly. "You might as well get on with it then, so we can get it over with."

Everyone sat on the edge of the fountain, facing one another across the water. "All right," Andrea began, opening her notebook, "go ahead, Camille. Tell me what you said to Frida, and why you said it."

Camille shot her former friends another "I dare you" glance; when no one spoke, she shrugged and began to talk, somewhat smugly. "Myeko's party would've been perfect if it weren't for...certain people," she said, with a snide glance at Frida. "I don't go around asking for trouble, so I tried to stay away from...those people all evening. But geez, when they shove their faces right up into yours and start talking about where they come from and how much they miss it..."

While Camille spilled her story, gradually building up to a rant, Andrea surreptitiously watched Frida, whose face grew more and more disturbed. Great, it's working! she thought. Keep it up, sis, and watch what happens!

After a moment Frida turned aside, and Leslie and Michiko, seated closest to her, reflected Frida's obvious distress. The wave of Frida's emotion visibly washed out through Maureen and Lauren, Myeko and even Andrea herself. For the first time, Andrea got the brunt of Frida's pain over Camille's cruelty, and nearly dropped her notebook into the fountain. She swallowed thickly and squeezed her eyes closed.

Camille had stopped talking the moment Andrea had registered Frida's emotion, and now she stared at each of the others in turn. "There you go again!" she shouted. "Sticking up for that girl just like the last time!"

Her words made Frida sit up straight with abrupt awareness, then rocket to her feet in one swift motion. To everyone's amazement, she whipped around and glared at Camille with such instant and enormous rage that her friends all cringed, gasping. This time Camille, no longer distracted by the narration of her own point of view, caught a full dose of Frida's telegraphed emotion. "I won't do this!" Frida snapped, as angry as anyone had ever seen her. "If Camille is so stupid that she blames me for something another person did, just because that other person comes from my country, then she can continue to be stupid." She glared fiercely at the stunned Camille. "For only a stupid person hates another for something that is uncontrollable!" With that, Frida stalked away from them down the lane. With her departure went her palpable rage, and everyone else sat in silence for a moment, collecting themselves.

"Damn," Andrea whispered. It had been her hope that Camille, like the others before her, would feel the onslaught of Frida's pain. Despite Leslie's reasoning that it would be only a temporary solution, Andrea had hoped it might be enough to at least make Camille think things over. Now it looked as if all she had done was create even more enmity than there had been before.

"Wow," said Myeko's voice, faintly. "Can you believe it?"

"I've never seen her that way," Michiko said. The others murmured agreement; only Leslie was silent. She sat staring blankly into the water, as if frozen in place.

"Leslie, are you okay?" Andrea asked.

Leslie started violently, blinked and looked up. "Did you guys feel the same thing I did just now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Andrea wanted to know.

"Frida really let her temper loose," Leslie said, "and I'd have thought the rest of us would've got boiling mad too. But I didn't feel angry at all. Instead, it was more like...like some kind of battering ram, a force that just flattened everything in my mind—thoughts, emotions, the whole kit."

Her friends mulled it over and, one by one, concurred with this. "But we weren't even the direct target," Maureen pointed out, and at this they all turned as one to stare at Camille.

Camille was sitting in the dirt as if someone had shoved her down. There was a dazed look on her face and her eyes were blank, like a doll's. Andrea went to her and waved her hand in front of Camille's eyes a couple of times, but Camille didn't respond.

"Oh boy," murmured Leslie, gaping wide-eyed, and then spun and ran for the house, shouting, "Mr. Roarke! Mr. Roarke!"