by Edward Bloor
Dr. Austin made a hand gesture that created a rolling billow under the plastic curtain. "Come closer. I am, of course, Dr. Austin. I believe you have already met my wife, Mrs. Cornelia Whittaker-Austin."
Cornelia told him, "This is the little boy who made the perfect score on the entrance exam."
Dr. Austin's gray eyebrows arched ceilingward. He smiled broadly, revealing a row of square white teeth. "You're George Melvil?" He evidently raised one finger and pointed at George, because a narrow blue fin emerged from the shower curtain, like the sudden appearance of a shark.
"I have been looking forward to meeting you, George Melvil! You are the kind of student that the Whittaker Magnet School was created for. A single superlative student can make a great difference. Am I right?"
Cornelia answered for George. "Of course you're right."
"The Whittaker Magnet School first came to national attention because of a single superlative student, Ashley-Nicole Singer-Wright." He turned to Cornelia. "Show them the photo."
Cornelia, with some reluctance, took down a photo from a bookcase shelf and handed it to her husband. He gripped it through the blue plastic and explained admiringly, "This shows Ashley-Nicole posing with my father-in-law, Cornell Whittaker Number Two."
He turned the frame to reveal a little girl dressed in a plaid skirt and white blouse with her blond hair tied back in a ponytail. She was accepting a plaque from a very large, round-shouldered old man in a black suit.
"I was the first to identify her genius. I administered her first standardized test, the PSAT." A dreamy look appeared on his face. "She was, of course, off the chart."
Dr. Austin handed the photo back to his wife. Then he pushed his arms straight out, causing the blue shower curtain to fall in a crumpled semicircle at his feet.
Kate and the others could now see the rest of his body, clad in a natty cream-colored suit and seated atop a high stool. He said, "Now we have you, George Melvil," and he slid down from the stool to the floor.
Kate's gaze slid down with him. Down and down. She tried not to look surprised, but he wasn't even five feet tall. Barely taller than George! Yet poise and self-confidence radiated from him at such high wattage that he managed to be just as intimidating as his giant wife.
Cornelia picked up the shower curtain and shook it out. Then she pulled a Dustbuster vacuum from its wall socket, switched it on, and started to clean up.
Dr. Austin snapped the lapels of his suit and checked himself in a wall mirror. He gingerly touched the sparse patch where the razor had slipped. Then he turned his attention back to George, shouting over the sucking noise of the vacuum, "Are these people your parents?"
George nodded. Ma and Pa stepped forward with big grins on their faces.
Dr. Austin read the message on their matching T-shirts. "Now what does this mean, 'Un-clog your arteries'?"
Ma cackled. "It's a joke. We're cloggers. And clog-gin's good for your arteries."
Dr. Austin spoke as if thinking aloud, "You clog. That means that you take part in some sort of ... folk-dance ritual that requires shirts."
"And shoes! Don't forget the shoes."
"And for how long have you participated in this activity?"
Ma looked at Pa for help with the question, but no help was forthcoming. She finally answered, "Since about a year before Georgie was born. The day after I delivered him, we competed in the Midwest Clog-off."
"And we took third place," Pa added.
"So, do you engage in this clogging activity still?"
"All the time, Doc. We're part of the Tri-County Cloggers. We do it all—Appalachian flatfoot, modern clogging, buckdance, pitter-pat, you name it."
"I would if I could." Dr. Austin smiled his square-toothed smile. "Anyway, congratulations to you both. I'm sure you are very proud of your son."
Ma whooped at that, and Pa joined her.
Cornelia clicked off the Dustbuster and shouted, "Good heavens! Don't do that in here! Find yourselves a barnyard."
Ma looked down. "Sorry, ma'am. Sorry again." She turned to Dr. Austin. "But you'll see. Little Georgie ain't like us. Never has been. He's smart, just like June used to be when she was little."
Dr. Austin suddenly noticed June. He bowed his head and said, "Madam."
Ma gestured sadly toward June, as if she were a dent in the side of a new car. "June used to be a genius, too. Least we thought she was. Her and that Charley Peters she married. They was both real smart. They knew everything about everything."
"Charley worked at Technon," Pa added. "Like me. He had a real good job there."
"Then he ran out on June and the baby."
June began to shrivel in the doorway, but Ma kept talking. "That's when she broke down and all. And became an invalid. That's when she moved back in with us."
Dr. Austin turned away, clearly hoping to change the subject. His gaze fell upon Kate. He looked at her quizzically, then he said, "I'm sorry. We don't usually include other children in the personal assessments."
Kate turned both open palms toward him. "No problem."
But then, to Kate's surprise, June spoke. "She's supposed to be here, too. She got a letter."
Dr. Austin looked over at his wife. She explained, "The girl lives in the same duplex as George Melvil."
Dr. Austin nodded. "Well, we do have some cases such as yours. And they have worked out very well. You will be exposed to the finest teaching methods in the United States. That can't help but change you for the better, can it?"
Ma said, "Her father ran off. He was that Charley Peters I was telling you about. Last we heard he was over in Korea or someplace."
Dr. Austin looked at June. She stammered, "He-he is employed by the American Schools Abroad Program. In Asia."
Dr. Austin raised his eyebrows. "Ah, yes. I am aware of it. A fine program."
Ma cackled. "I guess they'll let anybody teach them kids over there."
"On the contrary, madam. They have very high standards. We can learn much from the Asian continent. Their students outperform American students with depressing regularity, particularly in math and science. They don't outperform Whittaker students, though." He gestured to his wife, who selected a book from the bookcase and held it up. "Ten years ago, I implemented a revolutionary plan for education, explained in my groundbreaking book TBC: Test-Based Curriculum. You shall hear more about it later in our interview."
Cornelia set the book back down.
Dr. Austin walked toward the door. "For now, let us take a quick tour of the top floor. Would you like that, George Melvil?"
George mumbled, "Yes, sir."
Dr. Austin's eyes flicked over to Kate. "And of course you, too, miss."
9. A Short Tour, with a Long Lecture
As on the floors beneath it, a black iron railing lined the inside perimeter of the eighth floor, protecting pedestrians from an eight-story plunge to the marble lobby. Dr. Austin led his small group along that railing and down the hallway, stopping at a pair of tall oak doors bearing brass plaques. Dr. Austin paused to read the first: "Cornell Whittaker Number One, 1851–1942." He added, "The man was a genius, a great inventor. Are you interested in inventing, George?"
George gulped. "Yes, sir, I am. In fact, I have invented a flying machine."
"Excellent! Then you must enter our science fair."
Kate clenched both fists as George said, "Yes, sir, I would like that."
Dr. Austin said, "Excellent," again. Then he read the next plaque: "Cornell Whittaker Number Two, 1901–1998." This time, he didn't add anything.
They turned right and continued around the railing, passing a long wall without doors. Dr. Austin asked, "Do either of you have questions?"
Kate did, and she spoke up. "Yes. I was wondering: How does your school district map work? Why doesn't it have a normal shape, like every other district?"
Dr. Austin laughed heartily. "Because it is not like any other district! The County Commission, in its wisdom, has given us the permission—nay, t
he mandate—to draft talented students from any part of King's County we like."
Kate glanced at George and asked, "What if they don't want to come?"
Dr. Austin laughed again. "What student would not want to attend one of the finest schools in the United States?"
They walked in silence for a moment, until George, too, thought of a question. "Do your students have just one teacher, like in elementary school? Or do they change classes, like in middle school?"
"They change classes, like in college." Dr. Austin stopped to look George in the eyes. "Let me tell you about the teachers here. They are known for two things: being well paid and being anonymous.
"Teachers at the Whittaker Magnet School make four times the salary of other King's Comity teachers. As you can imagine, we have a tremendous backlog of enthusiastic applicants."
George's curiosity was piqued. "But why are they anonymous?"
"Within our system," Dr. Austin explained with pride, "your teachers will be known to you only by subject and grade level: Science Six, Math Seven, and so on."
George said, "They don't have names?"
"Of course they have names! But their names, and indeed their lives, are not relevant to your academic achievement. Their names are, in fact, a distraction. Teachers have no business cluttering up my carefully designed curriculum with anecdotes about ... oh, how they forgot to feed their goldfish the night before! This is one of my many innovations."
Dr. Austin stopped to point out the County Commission Room. It took up one entire side of the eighth floor. The group peered through a long Plexiglas window at a cluster of flags, a white dais with a long wooden table, and thirty rows of folding chairs.
"You will be privileged to watch social studies come to life in this very room, to watch democracy in action. This is where the county commissioners debate and ratify the bills that affect all of our lives."
The tour of the eighth floor ended back at Dr. Austin's door, where Cornelia was waiting. She asked her husband, "Did you show them the ceiling murals?"
"Not specifically. No."
"May I?"
"Certainly."
Cornelia leaned against the railing. "Ignore the unsightly hole in the roof. It's still under construction. The murals, of course, will be professionally cleaned afterward. For now, let me point out my favorite part. This scene right above us shows George Washington, on a horse, presenting Cornell Whittaker Number One, also on a horse, with a book." She paused and added proudly, "That sort of thing never happened to Andrew Carnegie."
George said, "It never happened to Cornell Whittaker Number One, either. He was born more than fifty years after Washington died."
Cornelia bristled. "Perhaps when you have written and published a book about the Whittaker family, you'll be able to discuss the topic with me."
Dr. Austin favored George with a sympathetic smile. Then he led the group back into his office.
Cornelia positioned herself in front of the exit. "Of course, all of the extra benefits of a Whittaker education mean extra expenses. Are any of you wealthy?"
Ma and Pa guffawed loudly. June shook her head.
"Well, the County Commission has estimated the costs at about ten thousand dollars per year per child."
June gasped. Ma and Pa guffawed again, like they thought Cornelia was joking. But the stern look on her face assured them that she was not.
Pa found his voice first. "I'm afraid we don't have that kind of money."
Dr. Austin joined his wife. He smiled warmly. "I understand, sir. Many families of gifted students lack the resources to educate them properly. That is why the County Commission, in its generosity, has developed the Leave No High-Scoring Child Behind Program. Through this program, the county pays the expenses of indigent children." He looked at Ma, Pa, and June. "All the county asks of you in return is some voluntary work, here at the school."
Cornelia handed contracts and work schedules to Ma, Pa, and June.
"As luck would have it, we have a low-level clerical job available for June Melvil. We may also be able to find her some domestic work—dusting and that sort of thing. Ma and Pa Melvil, of course, are suited to custodial work only."
Ma and Pa obediently signed their contracts, but June hesitated. She tried to make eye contact with her daughter, but Kate looked away. So June whispered to herself—"This is for the best"—and signed.
Kate's attention soon snapped back, however, when Cornelia added, "As far as the children's jobs ... George Melvil will work at the after-school preparatory. And since Kate Peters wants to learn to sing, she will be the personal assistant to Heidi Whittaker Austin."
Cornelia collected the contracts from Ma, Pa, and June.
Dr. Austin smiled. "So, your next question is, What will I be getting in return? I can tell you in three words: Test-Based Curriculum. Your children will soon understand the intricacies of standardized tests better than the people who write them. They will be the top test takers in America."
Ma, Pa, and June nodded tentatively, clearly unsure of the bargain they had just made. Kate shook her head at them slowly, in disbelief. Then she leveled a withering look at George.
George struggled to think of something to say to his niece. He actually opened his mouth to speak, anticipating that the words would come, as they always did. But this time his jaw simply hung open.
Dr. Austin turned to George. "You should score some impressive numbers here, my boy. A logical, levelheaded young man such as yourself makes the best kind of tester."
George finally thought of something. He raised his hand—more to attract Kate's attention than Dr. Austin's—and asked, "Is the Whittaker Library Building haunted?"
June squeaked like a mouse.
Dr. Austin froze.
Cornelia, however, erupted with rage. She took two giant steps and loomed over George. "How dare you ask that! Where did you ever hear such a thing?"
George, thoroughly cowed, ducked his head and hunched his thin shoulders. He mumbled weakly, "A website."
"A website! You had better forget about your websites, little boy, and start reading books. Books like mine! Only people who are jealous of the Whittakers, people like Andrew Carnegie, would say such a thing."
Dr. Austin restrained his wife with a firm hand and placed the other on the quivering shoulder of George Melvil. He assured him, "That kind of talk is nonsense, George. Absolute palaver. I have worked in this building for my entire adult life, and I give you my word, as a nationally renowned educator, that nothing abnormal, paranormal, supernatural, or preternatural has ever occurred within these walls."
He clapped George on the shoulder, signaling an end to the discussion. Then he turned to include Kate. "I know it's late, but I have one more treat in store for you young people. While my wife runs some credit checks on the grown-ups, you two will enjoy my personal tour of the building."
10. Mysterious Miss Pogorzelski
A flight of cement stairs took them down to the seventh-floor landing. The seventh floor, and every floor beneath it, contained rows of bookcases. Each case bore a sign on its endcap describing the topics and the range of Dewey decimal numbers to be found there.
Dr. Austin explained, "Our head librarian, Mrs. Hodges, is in charge of the seventh and the sixth floors. The books here are dedicated mostly to theology and philosophy."
Kate spotted Mrs. Hodges at the end of an aisle, removing an old book and carefully dusting it. She was thin and angular and dressed in a high-buttoned black dress. Her dark hair, pulled tight and hanging down her back, had a wide streak of gray in the middle, creating a skunklike effect, like someone had set out to make a coonskin cap but had used the wrong animal.
Dr. Austin led them down two more flights. "The fifth and the fourth floors are the realm of Miss Pogorzelski." Kate caught sight of a furtive figure in the stacks. She also wore a long black dress, but it was too large, and dirty, as if she had been outside jumping in puddles.
Dr. Austin's eyes searched the stacks
for her. "We call her Pogo. She won't object if you call her that, too. Because to object would require her to speak, which she does not do. Pogo's sections are history and the applied sciences."
As they descended more stairs, he added, "Here's an interesting tidbit, George: Pogo and my wife, Cornelia, both grew up in this building. Pogo's father was the custodian here for fifty years, until his death."
George said, "That is interesting," without really seeming to mean it.
Kate, however, was eager to hear more. A distant glimpse had been enough for Kate to recognize the mysterious figure from two nights before. The woman at the top-floor window, outlined by the fiery red glow; the woman with the snarling power saw. It had been Miss Pogorzelski.
Dr. Austin described the third and the second floors as "literature and biography, the provinces of Walter Barnes." He then lowered his voice, as if approaching a sleeping zoo animal. "There's Mr. Barnes now."
Ahead of them, slightly to the right, was an old wooden desk bearing the sign BOOK RETURN. Behind the desk, in a padded chair, was the snoring figure of Walter Barnes. He was dressed in a dark brown, shiny suit. His nearly bald head was resting on a green blotter, on which was spread the half-eaten remains of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. They watched him sleep for a few seconds, then moved downstairs again.
Dr. Austin inhaled deeply as he entered the main lobby, as if to take in its vast expanse. He turned to George and challenged him. "How would you calculate the volume of this great square, George Melvil?"
"Actually, sir," George replied, "it's a great rectangular prism. To calculate its volume, I would multiply its length times its width times its height."
Dr. Austin smiled tightly. "Yes, of course. We really must get you into the science fair." He changed the subject. "The first floor is devoted to children's literature. Ten years ago we began a program called Toddler Time; it has evolved into the present Story Time with phonics. This program is, like Test-Based Curriculum, poised to become a model for the entire country."
