A rectangle of yellow light fell over the framed photograph on the wall. The photograph of Peter’s teddy bear wearing the eyeglasses gleamed as if in
a spotlight.
“Yes!” I cried, staring hard at it.
I knew it had something to do with Peter. I didn’t remember exactly what. But I knew it was important to my parents.
I tore down the hall, reached up with both hands, and started to pull the photo off the wall.
“What are you doing?” a voice screamed angrily. “Put that down!”
“Get out of this house!”
Mom and Dad came bursting down the hall, their faces red with fury.
“She’s up here, Officer!” Dad shouted downstairs. “We have her trapped in the hall!”
The framed photo stuck against its wire. I struggled to pull it free.
“What are you stealing, young woman?” Mom demanded. “Let go of that!”
“Are you crazy? Coming in here like this?” Dad cried.
He grabbed my arm. “Get away from there, miss. The police are here.”
A blue-uniformed police officer, tall and blond, hands tensed at his sides, moved into the hallway.
“Here she is,” Mom called to him, pointing to me. “She’s crazy! Crazy! She just broke in and—and—”
The officer moved toward me menacingly. “Young lady, you’d better come with me,” he said softly, blue eyes narrowed on me coldly.
He reached out to grab me.
I tugged the photograph free. My hands were shaking so hard, I nearly dropped it.
I spun around. And raised the photo high.
I held it up to my parents. And I screamed: “NOW TEDDY CAN SEE HOW CUTE I AM!”