by Laury Falter
The unrelenting images and stream of thoughts about him dominated my mind for the next two weeks. In fact, the only time I was able to avoid them was when I listened to Felix and Rufus bicker about Felix’s fondness for tasteless, foul, healthy food and when Ezra broached the school subject. I was actually thankful when she announced where I’d be attending.
Because she knew how I felt about the issue, Ezra postponed any conversation about school until it was absolutely necessary. That meant it was the day before classes began when she handed me a map, a set of school books, and a letter to hand-deliver to the principal.
“Academy of the Immaculate Heart?” I didn’t bother to stop the groan that naturally followed.
“At least you won’t need to wear a uniform,” Ezra said, trying to soften the blow. We were in the kitchen, where she filled up her coffee mug even though it was nine o’clock at night. “It’s the only private high school nearby that didn’t require a uniform. I thought you’d appreciate that.”
“I do. You saved me from having to find a place to burn it.”
Rufus snickered from behind a forkful of mashed potatoes until he noticed Ezra’s glare. He then quickly dished out another serving of Shepherd’s Pie, attempting to avoid her.
“Besides, considering the affectionate nickname you’ve given your new school, I think you’ll find the principal’s name fits right in with your line of thought.”
I scanned the principal’s note she’d handed me.
“Mr. Warden?” Despite myself, I laughed.
“He requires a meeting with all new students. Yours is set for seven o’clock tomorrow morning. Think you’ll be able to make it?”
“Do I have a choice?” I retorted, but she didn’t bother to answer. “I have a challenge understanding why anyone would ever demand this of someone who obviously cannot stand structure and authority.”
“Ah, a self-aware young lady,” said Felix, as he happily trotted into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. He’d already eaten earlier, refusing Rufus’s menu choice. “Such a rare thing these days,” he added.
“Indeed,” replied Ezra. She winked and turned her attention back to me. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and patient. “I have something to…to mention that may make going to school a bit easier for you.”
“Okay…”
“When I was a child…,” she paused, sighing deeply and refocusing on me. She was struggling to tell me something profound. That much was clear. “I lost my parents in a plane accident.”
“You did?” I asked. Suddenly realizing how meek and faint my voice sounded.
“We had a skilled crew. It was the weather that took down the plane.”
“You had a skilled crew?” I repeated. My question emphasized that her choice of words sounded odd to me.
“We owned the plane. My parents were wealthy,” she stated simply. “When the police arrived at the house, I was told to pack a bag, and I left the only home I had ever known.”
Stunned, I forgot about the plate of food in front of me and the books stacked beside me. “Where did you go?”
“From one relative to another, but it wasn’t me they squabbled over…it was the inheritance. I was just added baggage.”
I drew in a sharp breath, shocked.
“By my junior year in high school, I had no interest in family, far less interest in studying, and I fell in with…well, with the wrong kind of crowd. And then, I met your mother!”
“She was in the wrong crowd?”
Ezra laughed lightly. “No, not exactly. She was my tutor; and trust me, I would never have met her if I hadn’t been forced into taking her studying lessons. It was either meet her twice a week or take summer school.”
“Not much of a choice there,” I pointed out.
“And that was a good thing. If it wasn’t for her, I’m not sure where I’d be now. As it turned out, your mother and I became good friends. I taught her about boys and she taught me Algebra. She was the only reason I went to college and why I value education so much. I believe your mother would value your education, too.”
I thought about Ezra’s office next to the kitchen. It was fully moved in now with books double-stacked along the newly installed bookshelves and countless diplomas lining the wall.
Looking across the table at her, now, I had a new found respect for her. She was no longer the guard; she had become an inmate, one who had risen above her lot. That, I could relate to.
I made the decision right then to stop complaining about school.
“So…what classes am I taking?” I asked, sliding the paperwork on the table in front of Ezra toward me.
She smiled, satisfied that I was showing a little interest.
“One’s I think you’ll enjoy.” She took a sip of coffee and proceeded to fill me in. “English Interpretive Literature, European History, Biochemistry, Calculus, and Fencing.”
“Fencing?” I asked. “That’s a class?”
Ezra nodded. “This is a school for advanced students. I didn’t think public school would be challenging enough to hold your interest.”
I groaned and returned to my dinner.
“Actually, I saw your transcripts, Maggie. You are a very good student.”
I swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes and shrugged. “Yeah…well…studying always comes easy. It’s hiding the fact that I deliver messages to the dead, that’s difficult.”
The moment the words left my mouth everyone at the table shifted in their seat uncomfortably. I glanced around and found they were avoiding eye contact with me.
“What?” I demanded.
I had the distinct feeling a discussion about me had taken place.
Ezra cleared her throat and laid her fork down in order to free her hands. She wrapped them around the coffee mug in front of her, though I noticed she didn’t bother to take a drink. “Maggie, do you plan to offer your services to the students?”
Ah, that was their concern. I hadn’t actually given it any thought. In fact, over the past few weeks, just thinking about school made my brain short-circuit, forcing me to switch topics immediately. It would certainly make for interesting gossip. It could possibly get me kicked out – an appealing thought until I remembered that I’d made a commitment to Ezra. No, this time I was going to be a good little girl, despite my incredibly strong reservations, and I was just going to attend classes like everyone else.
“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on it,” I responded and everyone visibly relaxed.
“That’d be good,” said Rufus as he picked up his fork and scooped up a mountain of meat and carrots, “’cause we wantchya to be happy here.” He swallowed the forkful in one gulp.
Felix rolled his eyes at Rufus before he tentatively added, “And delivering messages…well, it might cause some…friction.”
“Well…we wouldn’t want that,” I replied teasingly, though no one else saw the humor.
“Who knows, Maggie, you may end up liking school,” said Ezra, as she smiled from behind her coffee mug before taking a sip.
I snickered. “Don’t count on it.”
A private exchange of glances between Felix and Ezra took place before anyone spoke again.
“What?” I asked again.
This time, Ezra could barely contain her enthusiasm; suddenly smiling wide and exclaiming, “Now that you’re done with dinner, I suppose we can let you in on the real reason why Felix chose to eat earlier. He was putting the finishing touches on a present we bought for your first day of school!”
I was stunned. “Really?”
They nodded in unison. “It’s in your bedroom,” Felix said; as he giggled and his shoulders rolled upward, displaying his giddiness.
I stood and nearly ran from the kitchen, up the stairs, and through the door to my room.
Inside was a queen-sized bed, its posts so high they nearly scraped the ceiling. It was draped in a thick, down comforter and so many pillows only half the bed showed. It was more fitting in a
castle bedchamber than in my tiny, old bedroom. It was beautiful.
I choked back a sob just as they came up behind me, each, grinning from ear to ear.
Spinning to meet them, I stuttered, “I-I don’t know…I-I can’t believe…”
“We couldn’t have you sleeping on that old mattress the night before your exams,” said Ezra.
“Thank you so much!” I leaned in and hugged them all at once.
“Rufus put the wooden parts together and I decorated the bed,” Felix proudly explained.
“You did a great job … both of you.”
They seemed to be pleased with that acknowledgment.
“Get some good rest,” Ezra said. She closed my bedroom door as they all turned to head downstairs, leaving me in the privacy of my newly transformed room. “School starts tomorrow.”
Oddly, even those words couldn’t stifle my contentment, and that night I fell asleep more easily than I ever had before.
I woke up the next morning a bit less enthusiastic, with not a single nerve of excitement going off. It didn’t matter that I was about to meet new people I’d be forced to spend time with for the next ten months. Slowly, and with a great deal of effort, I left the comfort of my bed and gave very little thought to what I would wear. I opted for blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and a grey ivy cap. I was so disappointed because I would be stuck inside classrooms all day as opposed to the sunlit, bustling Jackson Square, that I chewed and swallowed the egg white, veggie omelet Felix gave me without even noticing how it tasted. At least he was pleased when I left.
The academy was less than five miles from the house so it took very little time to get there. When I pulled into the parking lot, there were several things I noticed immediately. It was a far cry from the public schools I’d attended. There were no security gates, bars on the windows, or trash piled up in the corners. In fact, it looked more like a mansion than a place of learning. It was a lone, three-story, brick and ivy, U-shaped building with an enormous park in the center of the U. Trees and benches dotted the park where I could envision students hanging out and studying hard, as I’m sure would be the case.
I knew that driving up on my loud, rumbling Harley Davidson motorcycle was not going to leave a good, first impression with anyone who saw me.
I didn’t care.
Even the astonished looks from the teachers who’d arrived early, as they stared at me from across the parking lot, didn’t bother me.
What did bother me was the blue Ford Mustang parked in the student lot. It looked like the one that had followed me a few weeks ago, the one that possibly tried to run me down – if I chose to believe that Eran had been right about the driver’s intentions. There was no one in the car, but if the owner was around, I knew I would recognize him instantly.
I walked toward what looked like the main entrance, set in the center of the middle building, where a sign read Main Hall. Arrows pointed to either side reading East Hall and West Hall.
I found Mr. Warden’s office in the far left corner of the West Hall and was just about to open the door when my hand paused on the knob. It started to rattle and I registered that it was a result of my hand - still holding it - now shaking. I felt sweat begin to bead up on my forehead just as the hair on the back of my neck began to rise.
This feeling was, by now, all too familiar to me.
I peered down both halls, searching for the creepy owner of the blue Ford Mustang or for Sharar, but I found I was completely alone. Not even a teacher was in sight.
Get a grip, I told myself; I felt foolish. I chalked up the feeling of fear to the fact that this was my first day of school, but since I’d had so many first days at new schools, my rationalization was weak and laughable.
I shrugged off that thought and opened the door; I found a heavyset secretary sitting behind a cluttered desk. She frowned at me, and I recognized her as one of the ladies in the parking lot that gaped at me as I rode up. She stopped typing long enough to point a thick, sagging arm toward a separate room.
“Thanks,” I replied, but she ignored me and directed her attention back to the computer that was precariously perched on top of the messy desk in front of her.
My voice must have alerted Mr. Warden that I had arrived, because he was standing by the time I entered his office.
“Ms. Tanner …,”
“Maggie … actually,” I said, extending my hand to meet his abrupt handshake.
Mr. Warden was stoic; he showed no hint of a smile and offered no reply.
Immediately, I noticed that he didn’t look much like a warden at all. I’d pictured tall, meaty, and stress wrinkles. I got the stress wrinkles right, but he was shorter than me, looked very frail, and had a receding hairline. Glasses were hanging from a chain around his neck, like you’d see on secretaries in the late 1960s, and that made him all the more disarming. Still, I’d already decided that he would be The Warden from now on.
As he closed the door behind me, my attention was drawn to the diplomas and the pictures of him, posed with people who appeared to be prominent and wealthy, that crowded the wall behind his desk … an ego-wall. So The Warden had a prideful side, I contemplated, as he ushered me to a seat facing his desk.
I sat, still fighting the shaking and the sweating, trying desperately to appear normal despite the physical reactions my body was suffering.
I guess that was why I didn’t see the creepy owner of the blue Ford Mustang seated in the chair next to mine.
I discovered he was there, watching me, when I glanced in his direction while The Warden took his seat.
I froze when I saw that the guy had the same intense, angry gaze focused on me that he had last time I saw him. I gripped my backpack, full of books, as that awful, sick feeling of fear overwhelmed me. If The Warden noticed any of this, he gave no sign.
“Ms. Tanner, this is Achan,” said The Warden; I made a mental note of how Achan ignored me in favor of turning to address The Warden with a friendly, relaxed smile.
I also made note of Achan’s outfit. His brown, creased, tweed slacks, his white, collared, cotton shirt, and his shined, leather, dress shoes made it easy to see how much older he dressed than people my age.
He didn’t appear to survey me at all. In fact, for the remainder of the meeting, Achan didn’t look my way once.
However, I learned that Achan had recently arrived from a private school in New York City. His parents were not planning on relocating, so they had bought Achan a house in the famous Garden District. Joy, I thought after hearing this information. Maybe his sour expression was the result of him being a snob. The Warden went on to explain that Achan’s transcripts had revealed his status as an expert archer, and that made The Warden eager to see Achan on the school’s archery team. He was confident that Achan’s skill would make his new school proud. After that announcement, The Warden escorted Achan out of the office but not before a jovial pat on his back and the reiteration – for the third time – that he was so happy to have a student of his stature join the academy.
Curiously, when Achan left the room, the fear that plagued me began to slowly subside. This caught me off guard so I didn’t immediately notice that The Warden had closed the door behind Achan and returned to his desk.
He didn’t have my full attention again until he lifted a foot-high stack of files from the floor and allowed them to crash loudly onto his desk.
He was watching me, his face now far more displeased. “Your files, Ms. Tanner.”
“Maggie,” I corrected.
“I heard you the first time,” he said, indignantly. “Sixteen schools in your short eighteen years of life. I’ll have you know, Ms. Tanner, that is a record.”
He glowered at me until I realized he didn’t plan to stop. Someone was going to have to break our deadlock stare. Realizing there was no point in antagonizing him further, I dropped my eyes to the floor. Only then, he spoke.
“Sixteen previous schools. A Harley Davidson for transportation. Performing psychic rea
dings for money in the French Quarter. Do you know what these are, Ms. Tanner?”
“The result of good research on a new student?”
“Now we can add impudence to the list …,” He frowned, before continuing. “These are red flags, Ms. Tanner. I wish you to know that I’ve met with each of your teachers prior to your arrival, and they will be reporting back to me about your behavior … consistently. So it would be in your best interest not to act up.” He paused, contempt radiated from his glare, as he lifted his chin toward the door. “Go.”
I guessed that was my cue to leave. It was just a bit different than Achan’s exit, so it took a moment before I reacted.
“Go!”
I hauled my backpack up over my shoulder and left the office, though not as quickly as The Warden would have liked. I knew this because I noticed that he rolled his eyes as I closed his office door behind me.
Then, it dawned on me that I forgot to hand Ezra’s letter to The Warden, so instead, I left it with Ms. Saggy–Arm on my way back out to the hallway.
Instinctively, I looked around for Achan; thankfully, I could not locate him. However, there were plenty of other students now roaming the halls and each one seemed to get in my way as I struggled to find my first class.
Like I was being punished further for some unknown crime, I found the room … on the top floor, in the far right corner, of the East Hall. It couldn’t have been farther from The Warden’s office, or any more difficult to find, so I was five minutes late.
A very tall, thin, German woman approached me when I entered, which I knew must be my new English teacher. Ms. Gleichner introduced me to the class, while the students silently scrutinized me, before directing me to a corner seat in the last row.
This quickly proved to be the end of my lucky streak for the day, when the hair on my neck began to tickle and reach outward, as I walked farther and farther down the aisle. By the time I was at my seat, the hair felt like it was being pulled by a strong magnetic force. Thankfully, I didn’t have the shakes or sweats that accompanied this reaction earlier, and I was able to pass myself off as being somewhat normal.
