Teacher's Pest

by Charles Gilman

  Karina looked pointedly to Robert, as if she were expecting a gift in return. Fortunately for him, the houselights dimmed just in time.

  “The show’s starting,” he said.

  High above the stage, a giant cardboard Cupid descended from the rafters; it was dressed in a diaper and holding a bow and arrow. A handful of students applauded, but Glenn just moaned. “Let the torture begin.”

  “Shhhh,” Karina said.

  He pulled on his hood and slumped in his chair. “Wake me when it’s over.”

  The boys and girls chorus walked on stage singing “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” from The Lion King, and their soaring voices drowned out Glenn’s complaints. Karina leaned forward in her chair, enchanted by the performance. After thirty years of confinement in Tillinghast Mansion, she enjoyed any chance to be a regular kid again. She was delighted by all of the everyday things that Robert took for granted: surprise fire drills, the smell of freshly sharpened pencils, and especially school assemblies.

  Pip and Squeak were enjoying the concert as much as Karina, maybe even more. They sat perched on Robert’s shoulder, swaying back and forth, dancing to the music.

  Suddenly, Glenn sat up straight in his chair.

  “I thought you were napping,” Robert said.

  He pointed at the stage. “Look what they’re wearing!”

  Robert was confused. The members of the chorus were dressed in shiny red robes. “What’s the big deal?”

  “They’re the same robes from the mansion! The cloaks worn by Tillinghast’s servants!”

  Karina blinked. “Oh my gosh. He’s right.”

  “So what?” Robert asked.

  “If we got some,” Glenn continued, growing excited, “I bet we could explore the whole mansion without getting caught. We could disguise ourselves as servants. Maybe we’d find a way to close the gates once and for all!”

  “Maybe,” Robert said, but Glenn was already standing up and gathering his things. “Where are you going?”

  “To the Music Room.”

  “Right now?”

  “We’ll never have a better chance,” Glenn said. “Everyone’s here watching the show!”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Karina said, crossing her arms over her chest. “The concert just started.”

  Pip and Squeak leapt onto her armrest and nodded their heads. They weren’t going anywhere, either.

  Glenn turned to Robert. “What’s more important?” he asked. “A stupid Valentine’s Day concert or saving the world from an army of ancient monsters?”

  When Glenn put the question that way, Robert felt as though he had no choice. “I guess saving the world.”

  “I’ll save your seats,” Karina offered. “Have fun.”

  Robert and Glenn slipped out the back door and went straight to the Music Room, a large rehearsal space cluttered with folding chairs and music stands. Perched on a shelf were white marble busts of Mozart and Beethoven. Apart from the two famous composers, the boys had the whole space to themselves.

  Glenn opened a door marked WARDROBE and they entered a cramped, narrow passage. It was flanked by theater costumes, marching band uniforms, and—all the way in the back—a rack of abnormally sized chorus robes. Glenn flipped through the hangers, checking the tags. “They’ve got extra-small or extra-extra-large,” he said. “Which do you want?”

  Robert glanced around anxiously. He worried that one of the music teachers would catch them red-handed. “I don’t care,” he whispered. “You pick.”

  Glenn grabbed a 2XL, pulled it over his head, and fit his arms through the sleeves.

  “Why are you putting it on?” Robert asked.

  “We’re taking a test-drive,” Glenn said. “Look.”

  He parted the robes, creating a gap in the middle of the clothes rack. Hidden behind the gowns was a small whirling vortex: a new gate into Tillinghast Mansion.

  “No way,” Robert said. “We can’t ditch Karina at the concert. She’s waiting for us.”

  “We’ll be back in five minutes,” Glenn promised. “I only want to take a quick peek. To see where we end up. If there’s any trouble—”

  “There’s always trouble. Every time we cross over, something tries to eat us.”

  “If we see anything dangerous, we’ll come right back.”

  Robert didn’t share any of Glenn’s curiosity. He had no desire to return to Tillinghast Mansion. The house was a giant labyrinth of cobwebbed corridors, twisting stairs, and mysterious passages. All of its doors were identical and unmarked, so it was impossible for visitors to find their way, and strange creatures lurked around every corner. Robert would have been much happier listening to love songs from The Lion King.

  But Glenn insisted on going, and Robert couldn’t let his best friend cross over alone. There was no telling what might happen if he did.

  “Five minutes,” he said. “Not a second more.”

  Robert pulled a robe over his head and wiggled his arms through the sleeves. The fabric hung past his fingertips, but it would have to do.

  Glenn sat down on a box and unlaced his boots. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes,” he said. “All the servants walk barefoot.”

  “Right.” He pulled off his sneakers and socks and tucked them with his backpack under a shelf.

  “See you in the mansion,” Glenn said, and then he ducked between the robes and tumbled into the vortex.

  Robert took one last look around the closet, nagged by a sense that he was making a terrible mistake.

  Then he stepped into the gate, anyway.

  And suddenly he was outside.

  In the cold.

  Very high off the ground.

  If there hadn’t been such a strong wind blowing at his back, Robert would have tumbled right off the ledge. He had no idea what was going on. He looked down and nearly swooned.

  Glenn reached over and steadied him. “Don’t look down!” he said, shouting over the blustery winds. “We need to find a way into the mansion!”

  “We’re not outside the mansion,” Robert said. In his brief heart-stopping glimpse down below, he had seen a softball diamond and a 400-meter athletic track. “We’re outside the school!”

  It didn’t make sense. Gates in Lovecraft Middle School were supposed to lead to Tillinghast Mansion. They weren’t supposed to lead to other places in Lovecraft Middle School.

  And yet this one had. The remains of the vortex lingered in the air above their heads, just beyond reach. Returning through the gate was not an option.

  Glenn insisted on walking to the balcony, but nothing could convince Robert to move, not even the arrival of snow. The flakes accumulated quickly on his head and shoulders, but he didn’t dare reach to wipe them away. He was frozen with fear—and soon he would be frozen, period.

  “I want you to tell my mother everything,” Robert said.

  “What do you mean?” Glenn asked.

  “If I fall. I don’t want her to think I went crazy and jumped off the roof. You need to tell her the truth.”

  A few weeks earlier, Robert’s mother had begun working as head nurse of Lovecraft Middle School. She had no idea it was the sort of place where students would find themselves mysteriously transported to a narrow ledge four stories above the ground. She thought it was just a regular middle school.

  “Also, there’s an envelope in my backpack,” Robert continued. “I need you to give it to Karina.”

  “What kind of envelope?”

  “It’s red. Sort of card shaped. You can’t miss it.”

  “A red card-shaped envelope?” Glenn might have had a reputation as Dunwich’s biggest and meanest bully, but he wasn’t stupid. “You got Karina a valentine?”

  “It’s just Garfield. We’re not dating or anything.”

  “Garfield the cat? From the comics?”

  “He was her favorite character back in 1982, when she was still, you know,” Robert explained. “She talks about Garfield all the time.”

  “Wh
y didn’t you give it to her before?” Glenn asked.

  “I haven’t had a chance.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. Robert had had plenty of chances, but he’d spent all morning trying to work up the nerve. Even though it was just a Garfield card with a silly caption, he still felt nervous giving a valentine to a girl.

  “You should’ve given it to her at the concert,” Glenn said. “After she gave us the chocolates.”

  “I know.”

  “That was the perfect chance.”

  “I know. Will you please just give it to her?”

  “Fine,” Glenn said, “but I’m going to read it.”

  “You’re not allowed to.”

  “Why not? I like Garfield. He’s funny. Besides, if you fall off this ledge, everyone in school’s going to read it. They’ll publish it in the school newspaper under your photo. It’ll be like your last will and testament.”

  Robert hadn’t anticipated this, but he knew Glenn was right. Three months ago, when Nurse Mandis and Howard Mergler drowned in a lake that mysteriously sprang from the soccer field, the school mourned their deaths with all kinds of tributes and memorials. Everyone would want to read Robert’s last words.

  “But it’s cool,” Glenn said. “I mean, I’m sure you didn’t write anything embarrassing, right?”

  Actually, Robert had. Instead of signing the card with “from,” he had written the word “love”—but he would rather die than admit this to Glenn or anyone else.

  Suddenly, it seemed very important that he deliver the card himself.

  “I’ll try walking one more time,” he decided.

  Robert inched toward the corner of the building, taking the tiniest of baby steps. When that didn’t kill him, he took another.

  “All right,” he admitted, “this isn’t so bad.”

  “You’ve gone three inches,” Glenn said.

  The ledge was already covered with a thin layer of snow, but Robert managed to take bigger steps without slipping. The wind was blowing at his back, pressing him against the stone wall, almost propping him up. Robert told himself it was just like walking on a sidewalk curb—if there was such a thing as a forty-foot-tall sidewalk curb.

  They soon arrived at the corner. The ledge wrapped all the way around the building—it was a square corner—but Robert would have to step away from the wall to make the turn.

  “Be careful,” Glenn said. “I bet the crosswinds are pretty rough.”

  “What are crosswinds?” Robert asked.

  “All the wind on this side of the building? It’s coming from the north,” Glenn explained. “And all the wind around the corner is from the east. But when you make that turn? And step out on the corner? You’ll have two winds blowing at the same time. In different directions. Crosswinds.”

  Robert shook his head. “And meanwhile you’re failing three classes. How do you know this stuff?”

  “My grandfather was a sailor.” Glenn shrugged. “All he ever talked about was wind.”

  “So what should I do?”

  “Be quick. And don’t look down.”

  Robert knew that if he tried to think of a better strategy, he’d never move. He stepped out onto the corner and the crosswinds snapped at the bottom of his robe, shaking him like a ragdoll. He pivoted on his left heel, spinning around, his other leg swinging out in midair.

  To Glenn, it looked like his best friend had done a ballerina spin right off the side of the building.

  “Robert!” he shouted. He leaned over, peering around the corner, relieved to find his friend clinging to the wall, practically kissing the stone. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fi-fi-fine,” Robert said. “Give me your hand.”

  He helped Glenn navigate the corner, and then the boys continued side-stepping along the ledge. On this side of the building, the snowdrifts were accumulating more quickly; some were already two and three inches high. The boys were close enough to see the balcony. It extended from the side of the building, a ten-by-ten platform surrounded by an iron railing.

  Robert quickened his steps. He was no longer thinking about falling. He was thinking about hot chocolate in the cafeteria and the warm socks he’d left in the Music Room. He was thinking about the knitted hat and gloves on the top shelf of his locker. He was thinking he might wear them for the rest of the day, even in class, even if he looked ridiculous.

  As he hurried along, looking forward to all these things, he didn’t notice the cracked rain gutter near the roofline, or the thin vein of ice trailing down the wall. He didn’t even notice the janitor in the hooded parka, carrying a snow shovel, until the man stepped to the edge of the balcony and hollered, “What are you idiots doing?”

  Robert was so startled, he slipped off the ledge.