by Nikki Loftin
“So. Your favorite food?” Ms. Morrigan’s voice was as cold as her hand had been, and her lips twisted up into a pinched smile.
I didn’t want to answer, but I made myself be polite. “Marzipan.”
“Marzipan?” Her laugh made the crystal chandelier tinkle overhead.
“What’s funny?” I asked, confused. Marzipan wasn’t that weird.
“A dangerous favorite. Maybe you are a special girl. Why marzipan? It’s an uncommon sweet here in America.”
I shrugged defensively. “I just . . . it’s good.”
Molly broke in. “It was her mother’s favorite. Her mother is German, or was German, I mean. From Germany German, not just German American.” Molly started blabbering on about how my mom had died suddenly the year before, but Ms. Morrigan was ignoring her, I could tell, even if she seemed to be listening.
Molly went on until Ms. Morrigan handed her some paperwork to fill out. Then the teacher led Bryan and me outside. “That’s where everyone else is.”
“Everyone else?” Bryan asked.
“Why, of course.” She had that hard smile again. “You didn’t think you were the only students, did you? Just the two of you? There wouldn’t be enough to go around!”
Enough to go around? I wondered what she meant, but then she opened the doors. Bryan yelled—“The playground!”—and disappeared.
The sounds of dozens of kids playing on the world’s best playground filtered through the doors, and my feet itched to go out and join them—but I stopped. I had to ask one more question.
“Ms. Morrigan?” I called out. She was leaving the cafeteria, but she turned back.
“Yes?”
“Why is marzipan a dangerous favorite?”
Her gemstone eyes glittered.
“Marzipan is made from almonds, Lorelei. As is cyanide, one of the most fatal poisons. In ancient times, those chefs who prepared marzipan frequently died from it. Even here in America, some people will crush bitter almonds in water to try to cure themselves of terminal diseases. It invariably kills them faster than the illness.”
I swallowed hard. I’d never seen anyone look like she did when she was talking about poison. Like she was remembering a particularly lovely dream. I tried to joke about it.
“Marzipan . . . can kill you? I’d better not eat any more then. I love that stuff. I’ll probably die within a month.”
“Die within a month? Ridiculous. You’re far too small to die.” She frowned, then brightened, her face smooth and beautiful again. “Of course, that’s not a topic for children. Go on out and play. I think I see your friend—the little Grey girl.”
I looked, and it was Allison. I hadn’t seen her in weeks, maybe months. Not since she’d spent the night at my house, and we’d talked about what had happened to Mom.
Allison waved, and I forgot about the creepy Ms. Morrigan, the marzipan, and the fact that we had all just agreed to go to a new school with all new teachers. I was happy for once. Allison was there, and she was waving at me, and everything was going to go right for the first time in years. I just knew it.
We played for hours, until the sunset turned the sand pink and gold, and Dad drove back over to pick us up and take us home.
CHAPTER FOUR:
THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
The first day of school was foggy and cooler than usual. We could barely see the front doors of the school through the fog; if it weren’t for the sign, we might have driven right past. It was strange crossing the parking lot, holding Dad’s hand like a little kid.
For some reason, I remembered that morning when we went to see Mom in the hospital together. He had held my hand then, too. He had held it all the way to her room, where I had seen her lying there, hooked up to tubes and machines, casts on both legs, and I had known something horrible was going to happen.
All of a sudden, I felt a surge of fear.
“Dad, I don’t want to go,” I said, and yanked on his hand.
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Molly said you loved this school! You and Bryan both begged to be signed up.” He patted me on the head like I was a dog. “You’re just feeling nervous. There’s nothing to worry about. Bryan will help you if you need anything. Right, Bryan?”
Bryan didn’t answer until Dad reached over and pulled the earbuds out.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll watch out for her.” Bryan looked at me. “They know she can’t write?”
Dad frowned at Bryan, and I mouthed the words “I’ll kill you” behind Dad’s back. Bryan just rolled his eyes.
“That’s enough of that, young man. You two are sister and brother. Family. Family takes care of one another, right?”
Dad waited. We didn’t say anything. As far as I was concerned, Bryan could take care of himself, and I sure wasn’t expecting him to help me in any way. After Mom died, he had turned into a typical brother, from what I could tell: a stranger I had to share a bathroom with.
“Right?” Dad waited for us both to say “right” before we crossed the lot.
Dad walked us up to the door, where Principal Trapp waited. She looked even happier than she had two days before.
“Mr. Robinson! It’s lovely to meet the father of these two bright children,” she said. They shook hands and Dad smiled.
“You must be Principal Trapp. It’s good to meet you, too. I was just going to walk the children in to class—”
The principal took hold of his arm, and he stopped talking. Her long fingernails rested lightly on his shirtsleeve. “I’ll have to ask if you can leave them here with me. We want to help our students learn to be independent, and we have found that when parents walk their children to class, it undermines the students’ growing sense of responsibility.”
“Well . . .” Dad looked torn. He glanced back and forth from me to Bryan. “Lorelei was a little nervous, this being her first day.”
“Daaad!” I couldn’t believe he was ratting me out.
Principal Trapp put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “She’ll be fine, Mr. Robinson. I’ll take her to her classroom personally.”
Great. The whole school would see her walking me down the hall like a kindergartener. Lucky me.
“Well, okay, then.” Dad hesitated, then kissed me on top of the head and ruffled Bryan’s hair. I smiled; Bryan hated that. “I’ll see you kids after school. You’re walking home, right? It’s just a few blocks.”
We nodded and said goodbye. Dad had only taken a few steps away when the principal’s voice cut through the fog.
“Mr. Robinson?” she called softly. “It really would be best if the children could come at seven thirty tomorrow, as I discussed with Molly. The whole school breakfasts together. It’s a sort of . . . team-building time.”
“Oh! Well, I usually eat breakfast with the kids. It’s our time together, since I work late most nights.” The principal raised one eyebrow, and I swear my dad blushed. “Is it really necessary?”
“Yes, it is. I’m sure you understand.”
Dad shifted his weight back and forth. “I know you spoke to Molly, but I was hoping we could find a way around it. It’s kind of a tradition in our house. Breakfast with Dad.”
“Oh, dear,” the principal said. “I’m so sorry. I’m afraid it’s one of our requirements. The teachers eat then, too. It’s a very important time of the day, and your children will have a wonderful meal. Maybe you can start a new tradition? Dessert with Dad?”
“Sure,” Dad said. He turned abruptly and walked away, not glancing back.
“I’ll make sure you get something special for snack today,” the principal was telling Bryan when I turned back around. “You can’t learn on an empty stomach.”
Bryan thanked her and jogged off toward his classroom. She turned to me, and her smile was warmer than sunlight.
“You, too, Lorelei. You’ll want to catch up with your brother. Oh, dear!” She glanced up at a clock that hung over the door. “Time to catch up indeed. It’s later than I thought. You’ll miss the whole morning if we move this slowly.” She grabbed my hand. “Let’s run.”
Run in the halls? I couldn’t believe it. She was a real principal, wasn’t she?
The question must have shown on my face, because she laughed and answered. “I’m the principal, Lorelei, so I get to make the rules. And the first rule is, do what the principal says. If the principal says run, run!”
We took off together, laughing, practically flying over the tiles. I was breathless but happy when we got to the doorway to the sixth-grade homeroom. Principal Trapp wished me luck, waved goodbye, and walked around the corner.
I felt my head to make sure my ponytail wasn’t too messed up and looked at the class list hanging outside the door. There were only fourteen names, all marked present except for mine: seven boys and seven girls.
I scanned the list for girls I knew: just one, but it was the one that mattered. Allison Grey, my best friend since third grade. Well, maybe not so “best” for the past year. But I felt like we could really be best friends again, here at Splendid Academy.
Allison hugged me when I came into the classroom. “Oh, my gosh, Lorelei. You’re never going to believe this. Check out our desks!”
She pulled me over to her desk, which was carved like the chairs in the cafeteria. It was old-fashioned, with the chair and the table part connected. Every desk was decorated in gleaming jewel colors, and the name of each student was painted in large, looping cursive letters. Mine, which was next to Allison’s, had been written on with gold ink. I’d always liked the way my name looked in cursive, but this was the best handwriting I’d ever seen. The giant L was gorgeous; it looked like a swan swimming toward the edge of the desk.
“Amazing,” I agreed. Allison’s name was written in fuchsia, her favorite color. I looked around. The other kids were all working already.
Well, I suppose working wasn’t exactly the right word. Two of the boys had handfuls of M&M’s, and they were throwing them at each other’s mouths, missing half the time. Three of the other girls were curled up on beanbags on a giant tapestry rug, texting on their phones. To each other, probably. They were giggling quietly and drinking what looked like fancy cappuccino slushies.
I stared at the tapestry rug. It was beautiful, too. I was beginning to think nothing in this school was plain. The design on the rug was strange, though, with a large tree in the center, and some kind of animal half-hidden behind it. I couldn’t quite make it out, so I craned my neck around to see.
A voice I recognized stopped me.
“It’s a very famous tapestry design, one of a series called the Hunt of the Unicorn. This one is titled The Unicorn Tries to Escape.”
My stomach turned as I realized the animal behind the tree was a unicorn being speared by dozens of men on horseback.
“Lovely, isn’t it?”
Lovely? I looked up. Ms. Morrigan stood there, wearing a sunshine-yellow dress. Oh, great. She had to turn out to be my teacher, didn’t she? I remembered her cold skin and, hoping she wouldn’t shake my hand or anything, took a step back.
“Whatever you say, ma’am.”
The room filled with laughter like silver bells chiming.
“Oh, Lorelei, please! You make me feel so old. I want you to think of me as a friend. So no more ma’am-ing. Promise?”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean. Yes. I mean, okay, miss.”
Everyone started laughing then. Allison laughed, too, harder than I had ever seen. It made me feel weird. Jealous and angry.
“Yes, Ms. Morrigan.” I lifted one of my eyebrows, and finished softly. “Ma’am.”
“Have it your way, dear,” she said, and something in her blue eyes flashed, like lightning far away. “It’s time for our first lesson, anyway.”
She moved off, and I noticed that the air where she had stood felt cold and smelled strange. It was a familiar scent, but I couldn’t put my finger on where I’d come across it before.
I sniffed again and knew. I had only smelled it once. Lilies. At my mother’s funeral, the neighbors had sent an enormous arrangement of lilies, tall white flowers that smelled so sweet, I had almost gotten sick from them at the service.
Wonderful, I thought. My teacher’s perfume smells like death lilies. This was going to be a long year.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Allison whispered as she sat down. “And super nice. She sat next to me at breakfast. Why’d you miss? They had this whole welcome assembly thing. And the food was amazing.”
I was about to ask what she’d had when she pulled out a permanent marker and started drawing something on the side of her desk.
“Allison? Stop! What if she sees you?” Allison was more of a goody-goody than I was.
“It’s fine, Lorelei,” she said, and gave me a look. I knew the look: Bryan gave it to me all the time, a look that plainly said I was stupid. I had just never seen it from Allison.
“Ms. Morrigan said we could do whatever we wanted to with our desks. They’re ours. This isn’t Russell Elementary.” Her eyes were shining brighter than Ms. Morrigan’s. “They treat us like adults here. We can leave the class whenever we need to go to the bathroom, and we don’t have to raise our hands. We can eat or drink anything we want in class, and talk on our phones or text as long as we don’t distract the other kids. Kendra asked about report cards, and Ms. Morrigan said we even give ourselves our own grades.”
“What?” I whispered. “That’s nuts! No school in the world works that way.”
A hand landed on my shoulder.
“Splendid does, Lorelei.” It was Ms. Morrigan. She smiled down at me, but my shoulder hurt where she gripped it. “If you had come to breakfast you would have learned what a very special school this is. Different from any other kind of school in the world. Better.”
“Better than Russell?” I mumbled. “Sure.”
Ms. Morrigan leaned even closer, and whispered in my ear. “Poor thing. If you had another school nearby to go to, I would send you this very morning. Too bad someone left their ovens on and burned every last desk and chair. We’ll be more careful here.”
“Ovens on?”
Willow Springs Middle School had burned down because of a wiring problem, hadn’t it? And the school kitchen didn’t even get used in the summer. Why would my teacher say it had been ovens?
I was about to ask, when Ms. Morrigan put a finger to her lips and made a shushing sound. “Our little secret, hmm?” Smiling, she let go of my shoulder and moved away.
My stomach churned. Was it because I was completely creeped out, or because I was getting sick? I couldn’t tell.
I peeked over at Allison. She was popping M&M’s into her mouth.
“Can I have one?” I tried to smile. I didn’t want Allison mad at me.
“Fine,” she said, shrugging. “But you have your own. They’re in your desk.”
I looked, and sure enough, there they were. A shallow, golden bowl filled with candies.
“Candy in our desks? Why?”
I was just wondering out loud, but Allison answered. “Candy math, Ms. Morrigan says. We eat as much as we want, and we’ll do math problems with what’s left.”
I looked up. Sure enough, on the chalkboard it said CANDY MATH: 10:30. Right after MORNING RECESS/SNACK TIME. Wait—there were two snack times written down.
“Crazy,” I whispered. Two snack times, plus breakfast and lunch? “We’re all going to be fat.”
Come to think of it, I was sort of hungry. I hadn’t eaten very much at breakfast. Too nervous. I reached into my desk and pulled out my bowl of candy.
I tapped the edge of the bowl. It was real metal. For a second, I had a wi
ld thought. Was it real gold? But then I shook my head. No school had that much money. I emptied the M&M’s out and laid them on the letters that spelled my name. I had enough to cover every letter, with one red one left over. I was about to pop it into my mouth, when I felt a hand on my arm, stopping me.
“Don’t eat it.”
A boy was holding my wrist. A really, really fat boy, who had scooched his whole desk toward me. I thought I recognized him from the grocery store, or the park, or somewhere, but I’d never talked to him; the suburbs are a big place. He had dark black hair that stuck up in cowlicks all over his head, chocolate-brown eyes, and a red Smithsonian Museum T-shirt that stretched tightly across his stomach.
I glanced at his desk: His name was Andrew. Was he trying to steal my candy? Bryan did that all the time. I gave him a nasty glare. “What, you want it? Get your own.”
But he wasn’t looking at me; he was staring at Ms. Morrigan’s back. “I have my own.”
“Then let go.” He was really starting to tick me off. And my arm hurt.
“No, seriously. Don’t eat it.”
“Why not?”
He peered down at my desk. “Lorelei? That’s your name?” He whispered so softly I almost couldn’t hear him.
I nodded. Ms. Morrigan was moving down the row, setting textbooks out on the desks she passed.
“Pay attention, Lorelei. What do you notice?”
I twisted around in my chair. The classroom was quiet. Everyone was busy.
Then I noticed the sound. Chewing. A dozen mouths chewing, cracking the outsides off handful after handful of M&M’s. Some students were reading or writing. Some were texting or playing games on their phones. But every one of them was eating as fast as they could.
“So?” I said, not wanting to admit I found the sight of them all shoveling candy in as fast as they could kind of disturbing. “What’s your deal?”
He breathed the words; I had to strain to hear.
“They can’t stop eating.”
