by Edward Bloor
"Okay, then. You can join us."
George remained where he was, leaning on the railing. Kate opened the diary to a page that she had book-marked. She asked him, "Remember this? This is the diary of Cornell Whittaker Number Two."
George sputtered. "How did you get that out of the secret room?"
"Pogo sent it to me FedEx."
Molly asked, "Who is Pogo again?"
"She's a librarian. A very strange librarian who ... likes me."
Molly raised her eyebrows. "She likes you likes you?"
"No. She just likes me. I don't know why."
George interrupted. "You know why. You stood up to her enemies—Mrs. Hodges, Mrs. Whittaker-Austin. And you helped her friend, the can man. I'll bet nobody's ever done anything like that before."
"Do you think so?"
"I know so." George caught himself. "Of course, I could be wrong a certain percentage of the time."
Kate pointed at the scrapbook. "Look through there," she told Molly. "I saw an article about Cornell Number Two coming back from London with a rare book collection."
Molly heaved open the cover and turned to the middle of the book. "Yeah. I saw that, too."
While Molly turned pages, George pointed out, "Rare books are very big on the Internet. So is spiritualism. If you want, I can check out the prices of—"
Molly interrupted him. "Here it is! He's posing next to a shelf full of old books."
Kate asked, "What's the date of that clipping?" Molly read off the date, and Kate flipped quickly through the diary pages. But, just as she found her place, the other door of the duplex opened. Kate's shoulders tightened.
June walked out holding a black phone in front of her. "Kate, it's for you."
"Who is it?"
"I don't know. It's a boy."
Kate's tone changed abruptly. "Derek Arroyo?"
June stared futilely at the caller ID readout. "I don't know. I don't have my glasses."
Molly asked, "Does he sound real cool?"
"No. He sounds real nervous."
Kate and Molly exchanged a blank stare. Then Kate took the phone and toned it on. "Hello." She listened for only a few seconds before her mouth fell open. Then her eyes shot over to Molly's. She answered the caller, "Yes, William. I do know who you are."
Molly extended her arms in a gesture that asked, "Who?"
Kate said, "Well, that's nice. I hope you enjoy your new place. But listen, I am really busy now." For Molly's benefit, Kate pantomimed sticking a finger down her own throat. "Okay. Yeah. Good-bye."
Kate turned the phone off and snapped her head backward, like she had just been released from a force field. She handed the phone up to June, who carried it back inside.
Molly asked the obvious question. "Who was it?"
"It was William. William Anderson. He sits next to me in all of my classes." Kate looked up at George. "That should tell you how smart he is."
"Why did he call?" Molly asked. "Does he like you?"
George said, "Does he like you like you?"
"Shut up, both of you. He called to say he just moved onto our block." Kate suddenly looked around in a panic. "My god! He could be right across the street. He could be looking at us now, through big binoculars, or night-vision goggles."
Molly looked around, too. "That is really creepy."
Kate shook her head, like a wet dog. Then she pointed emphatically to the books sitting on their laps. "Forget it. Come on, you guys. No more interruptions. I found three entries from the day when Cornell Number Two returned from London with those books. Here they are. Listen, listen, listen: Entry one: 'They once lived in our astral plane. Now they move from plane to plane.' Entry two: 'I will be greater than Father in this one regard. He was confined to one plane his entire life. I shall know a second plane.' And entry three: 'Something that Father only talked about, I shall do, and I shall do it soon.'"
Kate looked up. She and Molly stared at each other for a long moment. Then they turned, together, and looked at George.
George took the opportunity to say, "Oh? Are you asking Mr. Know-It-All?"
Kate clenched her teeth. "Yes. In this case, in this one specific case, we would like to hear what you know about the topic. Please."
"Okay. Here's what I know. Spiritualists, people who believe in ghosts and that sort of thing, believe that there is another level to the world, another 'plane,' where they can talk to the dead."
George stopped there, so Kate tried to paraphrase him. "Cornell Whittaker Number Two talked to the dead?"
George shrugged. "I seriously doubt it. At that point in his diary, however, he believed he was about to."
Molly pointed at the scrapbook on her lap. "So ... What does that have to do with the old books?"
George smiled innocently. "I have no idea." He watched Kate's eyes narrow in on him in anger. But then her eyes darted to the right, to the sidewalk, and grew wide. George turned and saw three people approaching—a well-dressed man and woman, and a tall, pasty boy.
The boy called out, "Hey, Kate! Can you believe this?"
Kate muttered, "No. I cannot."
The boy explained to his parents, "Mom, Dad, this is Kate Peters. I sit next to her in all of my classes."
The man and woman smiled. The woman said, "Hello, Kate. We're Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, your new neighbors. Who are your friends here?"
Kate managed to reply, "This is my friend Molly and my uncle George."
"I'll tell you what, William," the man suggested. "Why don't you hang out with your friends here while your mom and I walk up to the store."
William replied, "Okay, Dad," climbed up the three porch steps, and stood next to George. His parents continued on their way, leaving four silent kids in their wake.
With as much self-control as she could muster, Kate asked, "William? What are you doing here?"
"Like I said on the phone, we live here now."
"But you don't live in this house, do you? So what are you doing here?"
William pointed behind him. "Actually, I live five duplexes down. We're renting a left side. The owners are on the right." No one replied, so he added, "Did you know that this block is now inside the Whittaker Magnet School District?"
"Yes," Kate told him icily. "We did know that."
"Well, my block used to be in that district, too. But the lines got changed, so my mom and dad decided we'd better move over to this block"
George interrupted him. "Wait a minute. They moved your block out of the Whittaker district when they moved this block in?"
"Yeah. That's happened to me a couple of times now. I've lived all over the city."
George suggested, "Is Dr. Austin trying to get rid of you?"
"Oh yeah. Big-time. But my mom and dad won't let him."
Molly muttered so that only Kate could hear, "Guess what. We're trying to get rid of you, too."
William smiled nervously, and the four of them reverted to their silent state.
After a long pause, Kate took charge. "Listen, William. We're talking about something very important here. It's about Cornell Whittaker Number Two and his diary and the Whittaker Library. You either have to leave right now, or you have to swear you can keep your big mouth shut."
"Oh, absolutely!" William swore. "I can keep my big mouth shut. I keep my mouth shut all the time, about all sorts of—"
Molly cut him off. "This is not a good example of keeping your mouth shut."
William shriveled in contrition. "Oh. Sorry. I'm really sorry."
"He's sorry," Molly muttered to Kate. "I'll say that for him."
But William seemed impervious to insult. "Yes, I am. And I'll show you. I know a lot about Whittaker. I used to be a Juku Warrior. Then I was on the Cram Crew. Now I'm actually a student there."
"How do you feel about that?" Kate asked.
William shrugged.
Kate leveled an intense stare directly into his eyes. "Let's try that again. How do you feel about that?"
William'
s smile faded away. He blinked for several seconds. Then he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I hate it," he said at last.
Kate favored him with a kind look "I know what you mean. We hate it, too." She stopped to look at George. "Or at least I do."
George protested, "Wait a minute! I hate it, too. I want out of there."
Molly added, "I hate it, and I don't even go there."
"I'm going to find us a way out," Kate said. "I don't know how yet, but I believe a door will open and we will be able to escape through it. Are you with us, William? Do you want out, too?"
William was now openly in tears. He assured Kate, from the bottom of his heart, "Yes, I want out. I'd have quit long ago, if my parents woulda let me."
"We all need to keep our eyes and ears open, every day at Whittaker, for every weird thing that happens. We need to be prepared to act."
William dried his eyes. He sniffled. "Be prepared. That could be our motto. You know? That was our motto in Scouts: Semper Paratus. Be Prepared."
"Actually," George said, "that would translate as Always Prepared.'"
William got flustered. "Would it? I had to quit Scouts to be on the Cram Crew. I might have got it wrong."
"Don't worry about it. Heads up though, William. Here come your parents."
The four kids watched Mr. and Mrs. Anderson come back down the street. Mrs. Anderson called out, "Kate Peters? We've been talking about you since we left. Are you any relation to June and Charley Peters?"
Kate gulped. "Yes, I am. They're my parents."
Mrs. Anderson turned to her husband with an "I told you so" look. "We were just saying, 'What ever happened to June and Charley Peters?' They used to be involved in everything."
Kate felt like she wanted to run. Or burst into tears.
Then George spoke up. "They are now divorced. Charley's gone. He's in Asia. And June is not feeling too well."
Mr. and Mrs. Anderson squirmed on the sidewalk. Neither said a thing until Mr. Anderson called over to his son, "Come on, William. We have to get home and unpack."
William left the porch obediently, and the three Andersons retreated down the street.
Molly's parents pulled up to the curb one minute later. Molly stuffed her flute case and the scrapbook into her canvas bag. She pointed to the diary and told Kate, "We have to do this again. Soon."
Kate swallowed hard, still unable to speak. She did manage to nod.
Molly got up. "Okay, you guys. Semper Apparatus... Or whatever it was."
George supplied the right word: "Paratus."
"Yeah. Whatever. Bye."
Molly drove away with her parents. George waited five minutes before he asked, "Kate? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?" she told him, defiantly.
George waited. The night grew darker and colder before he said, "We didn't get to talk about the real cool stuff, you know? What with the interruptions." Kate didn't reply. "Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?"
Kate leaned back against the porch railing. "Yeah. Sure. Why wouldn't I?"
George straddled the center railing. "What do you think happened to Walter Barnes?"
Kate finally looked at him. "I don't think that was Walter Barnes. I believe something else took over his body. Something that wasn't human."
George raised one eyebrow. "Come on, Kate. Be logical."
"I believe Walter Barnes was possessed. By a demon."
"That's impossible."
"No, it's not. Lots of people believe in demons."
"Lots of people are stupid."
"What's so stupid about it? There are things in life that you do not understand, Uncle George. If you don't know that, then you're not as smart as you think."
George accepted the rebuke. "Okay. I do know that. But I know this, too: Scientists are able to prove the existence of human-type beings going back more than one hundred and sixty thousand years. They can prove the existence of subatomic particles that only appear for a fraction of a fraction of a millisecond. They can prove that nitrogen is the dominant gas in the atmosphere of Pluto. But all the scientists who ever lived, with all the equipment that was ever invented, still have not been able to prove the existence of one Bigfoot or one Loch Ness Monster, or one supernatural demon anywhere in the world at any time."
George looked at Kate. She seemed checkmated into silence by his cold, scientific analysis. So he added, "Still, that clearly was not the Walter Barnes that we all knew and loved."
The low thrum of clogging on the back porch stopped abruptly. Kate got up and started inside. She told George wearily, "Whatever. You can think what you want. Good night."
George hopped over the railing and followed Kate in through the vestibule. "Okay. Okay. Even though it's impossible, let's say that he was ... that he was possessed by some supernatural demonlike creature. That raises some new questions, like: How did this demon thing enter the body of Walter Barnes? And, did it leave Walter Barnes when he died? And, if it did leave, where did it go?"
Kate smiled devilishly. "Why don't you go back to your room and sleep on that?"
George looked terrified. "I'd rather not." He followed Kate into the kitchen. She rummaged through a cabinet until she found an old metal thermos with a blue top. She held it up. "I'm bringing an empty thermos, every day, hidden in my backpack. From now on, my Mrs. Hodges protein shakes get dumped right in here."
"Good idea."
George followed Kate up to the landing. There, he hung around surfing the Internet while Kate got ready for bed. He clicked through websites devoted to nineteenth-century London, spiritualism, and antiquarian books. When he heard Kate behind him, he asked, "Would you mind if I slept over here? The floor would be fine."
"Why? Are you afraid of Bigfoot? Or the Loch Ness Monster? Or, maybe, demons?"
George gulped. "I'm not afraid of the first two. And I don't believe in demons. Not at all. But," he finally admitted, "I am a little afraid of the possibility of demons. But only a little. And only at night."
He turned around to see that Kate was already standing in the doorway holding out a sleeping bag and an extra pillow.
Week Three
25. Putting Some Crazy Rumors to Rest
On the Monday morning following Walter Barnes's bizarre performance, Dr. Austin called all students, teachers, and staff of the Whittaker Magnet School to an assembly in the lobby. Kate slipped away from her classmates and found George. They sat together in the back row, staring around curiously, as Dr. Austin emerged from the elevator.
Kate whispered, "Do you think this is about Walter Barnes?"
"It has to be. Parents were there and saw it, right? He can't just say that it never happened."
Dr. Austin stood at attention before the student body, examining faces at random. "Just as our cherished Whittaker Magnet School is preparing to fulfill its destiny and to step onto the national stage, this happens." He shook his head sadly. "A terrible tragedy. One of our staff, and a trusted member of the Whittaker team, has, unfortunately, let that team down. I'm sure that some of you have heard crazy rumors about Walter Barnes during Friday's Story Time. I am here to assure you that they are nothing more than that. Crazy rumors.
"There is even a rumor that Mr. Barnes is dead. Well, let me assure you, I just spoke to him moments ago. I inquired about his health; he told me he was fine. Then I informed him that he was fired.
"Walter Barnes is not dead. Walter Barnes, I am sorry to say, was merely dead drunk. That is what caused his erratic behavior. We hope that your parents will rest assured that he has been removed permanently and that nothing of this kind shall ever happen again. They have my solemn promise on that."
Dr. Austin raised one hand like he was being sworn in. "To keep that solemn promise, I must have your help. I cannot do this alone. I want you to report anything out of the ordinary directly to me. In fact, for every report of unusual, abnormal, or aberrant behavior, you will receive ten additional bonus points on any test of your choosing.
Now, you may all go back to your classes."
***
William Anderson caught up to Kate on the stairwell. He whispered to her, "So ... what did you think of that?"
She answered for anyone to hear, "I didn't believe a word of it. It was a Story Time. Without phonics."
"Huh?"
"It was a story, William. Now Dr. Austin expects us to go home and repeat that story to our parents. But don't you do it."
William's face reflected his struggle to understand. He whispered, "Okay, Kate. I won't tell my parents. Not about this, not about that other stuff, not about anything."
"Good. Semper Paratus."
26. The Very Public Arrival of the Secret Service
On Wednesday, while Kate and George worked their after-school jobs in the lobby, a black Lincoln Town Car pulled up to the front doors. The car was unmarked, but it carried U.S. GOVERNMENT plates on the front and back.
The first person to step out of the car wore a laminated identification badge on his suit's breast pocket. It said MCCOY, JAMES j. in large letters, followed by AGENT IN CHARGE in small letters. He walked briskly toward the Whittaker Building, looking neither left nor right.
The second person out wore a similar badge attached to the pocket of his checked sports coat. It said PFLAUM, JONATHAN P., AGENT. He struggled to drag a large weaponlike device out of the car with him. It looked like a long metal version of a Super Soaker squirt gun.
The third person to emerge wore no security badge. She was tall and muscular, a chiseled bodybuilder, with short cropped hair. She had extraordinarily healthy-looking skin, dark brown, close to the color of the silk shirt she wore beneath a two-piece ivory suit.
She did look left, right, and upward, taking in the Story Time poster, the Id pendemus motto, and the beginnings of the lurid Andrew Carnegie in Hell mosaic.
She stopped to read a memo taped to the glass doors and repeated the words aloud, in TV anchorwoman English: "'This week's essay topic: Why the President Should Appoint Dr. Austin to His Commission on Teacher Accountability."'
She took out a small electronic device—a thin, handheld computer with advanced communications capabilities—called the WebWizard X, and scanned in the poster and the memo.
