Brendon shrugged his shoulders offhandedly, but his body language showed instant relief. “Just wondering. He isn’t in his office much lately.”
I made a mental note to look into Mr. Jorgenson. I wondered if this could be the Mr. J. the guy that had almost caught Johnathan and me out by the giant chemistry set had been talking to on the phone. I pulled my class schedule out and studied it briefly. “I have History next … Mr. Grewa’s class. Could you possibly head me in the right direction?”
“Sure, it’s on the way to my next class. I’ll walk with you.”
I tried to pay close attention to the route we took so I would be able to navigate by myself the next day. It was difficult to concentrate, though, as I watched the kids passing me in the hallway. So many kids seemed in desperate need of help. We really needed to figure this thing out soon.
Brendon dropped me off at the door to Mr. Grewa’s class and waved as he continued down the hall. “See ya later.”
I stepped through the door and felt an instant sense of peace and comfort. The teacher was writing on the whiteboard, but looked toward me when I came through the door.
“Well, hello. You must be Sasha. Welcome to American History. I’m Mr. Grewa.” He had a gentle voice and kind eyes that I imagined had twinkled before his students had turned into psychos. Now, though, those eyes reflected a deep sadness and worry that didn’t match the smile he gave me.
“Yes, I’m Sasha. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Grewa.”
“Well, Sasha, you can choose whichever seat you’d like, there is no assigned seating in my class. I’ll get you a book and syllabus as soon as I’m finished writing today’s assignment on the board.”
I took a seat in the front row. I wasn’t usually—well, okay, ever—a front row student. But the feeling of comfort was just so strong with this gentle man that I wanted to be close to him.
I’d barely begun to sit when a scratchy voice came over the intercom in the room and said, “Mr. Grewa? Could you please send Sasha Spurlock to the office?”
He glanced at me, his face drained of color, and paused before answering, “Okay. How long do you think she’ll be?”
“Shouldn’t be long. Mr. Jorgenson just wants to speak with her.”
“Okay, I’ll send her right up.” He turned to me and asked, “Do you know your way to the office?”
I was more than a little concerned about the uneasiness in his voice.
“I think I’ll be able to find it,” I said with a confused smile. I left my stuff on the desk and slowly walked to the office. Why would Mr. Grewa be worried about me going to the office? His strange reaction coupled with Brendon’s question about whether I’d seen the principal, raised an instant alarm. Well, if two seemingly normal people are worried about me talking to Mr. Jorgenson, then it’s important I talk to Mr. Jorgenson. I picked up the pace and marched into the office with determination.
A few minutes later, I stood in the doorway to the principal’s office until he looked up from his computer screen. He smiled. A chill went down my spine when my eyes met his. Not a good chill. It felt like all the air had been sucked out from around me. I briefly envisioned my body suspended over a vat of liquid nitrogen. With more than a little effort, I shifted my gaze from his and the creepy feeling subsided a little.
“You must be Sasha. Come in, have a seat.”
I did as instructed.
“So, Sasha.”
The way he said my fake name made me incredibly glad it wasn’t my real name he was using.
“I heard there was a little … incident … in Mrs. Christensen’s class this morning.”
I nodded. I wasn’t quite sure what response he expected, as he hadn’t asked a question, so I stayed silent. It soon appeared that was the wrong way to respond.
I looked up at his face—not his eyes, never again at his eyes—and caught his aggravated, tight-lipped smile. I still didn’t speak. If he wanted to know something, he could ask me a question.
Finally, he spoke again. Some of the forced softness had left his voice. “Well, tell me. What happened?” The pause between the two sentences was a little frightening.
“Okay. A girl—Ashley, I guess is her name—freaked out and broke a window. She cut her hands pretty bad and I brought her to the nurse’s office.”
“Yes, I already know that part”—that pursed lip smile again, the barely contained frustration. What does this guy want me to tell him?—“Did she say anything to you? About why she may have been ‘freaking out,’ as you so eloquently put it?”
Ah. I started to understand. He wanted to see if she’d told me anything incriminating. This guy had just gone from slightly suspicious and very creepy, to number-one suspect—and still very creepy. Well, I wasn’t about to give him an inch.
“No, sir. She just cried. She didn’t say a word to me.”
“That’s interesting,” he said, “Nurse Paulson told me she heard you talking to the girl, Ashley, when she walked into her office.”
He lowered his chin and raised an eyebrow. I really hated it when people looked at me like I was lying. Okay, so I was lying, but he didn’t know that, and it still bugged me that he looked at me like that.
“You didn’t ask me if I said anything to her. Your question was, and I quote, ‘Did she say anything to you?’” I even emphasized the word say like he had.
That cracked his composure a little. His hands balled up into fists on top of his desk; he took a deep breath and blew it out noisily. “Sasha. I realize this is your first day here at Edward’s High School, so I will forgive your insolence—one time. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me what was said between you and Ashley.”
I looked him in the forehead and said, “I can’t remember exactly what I said. I was just trying to calm her down and reassure her until the nurse got there.” I paused to think about what the nurse may have overheard. I stifled a groan as I remembered what I was asking her when the nurse walked in. “I think I asked her what happened. I was just trying to get her to talk to me, to focus on something besides the blood on her hands. I was afraid she was in shock or something. Was that the wrong thing for me to do?” I blinked my eyes innocently.
“No, no, I suppose not. You did just fine, Sasha.” His switch from interrogator to comforter was extremely discomforting. But he switched right back to interrogator—a role to which he was much better suited. “I am going to ask you again, Sasha, what did Ashley say to you?”
I reigned in the sarcastic retort that was on the tip of my tongue. This guy was dangerous. I could feel it in the tingle of every nerve ending in my skin. I needed to watch myself.
“I don’t recall her saying anything to me, sir.” I did not want him to know what she told me about the monster and her friend, Amanda. I wondered if that was what he was digging for.
“You’re sure? I only ask again because, as I’m sure you’ve heard, we’ve had some rather disturbing … tragedies … in our school recently. I just want to ensure we don’t have another one.”
I was positive that wasn’t his reason for wanting to know. I was also sure that if he found out I knew anything about what was going on there, I would be in danger. So I stuck to my story.
“I’m sure. She only cried, no talking.”
He sighed, cocked his head and raised that eyebrow again. I was bugged again. And, a little scared. Which bugged me even more. He apparently decided to try a different tactic. “Sasha, would you like to have a drink? I have soda here in my office fridge. Maybe a snack?” Offering me food? That’s interesting.
“Um … no, thank you. I would just like to go back to class. I don’t want to fall behind on my first day,” I said with a sweet smile.
He wasn’t ready to let me go and wasn’t happy I’d refused his offer. “Water, then? Let me get you some water. You can return to class when I’m finished with you.”
He really wanted me to eat or drink something. I remembered my talk with Seth the day before when we theorized that th
e problem here might be in the food or water.
“No. Thank you,” I said sternly. “I don’t want a drink. What else can I answer for you, Mr. Jorgenson?”
He stood abruptly and placed both hands flat on his desk as he leaned over, his face within two feet of mine. His face burned red as he lost his composure.
“You can tell me what that girl said to you!”
I stayed silent and stared him in the forehead.
He leaned closer, the muscles of his arms as tight as two coiled springs. The blood vessels on his arms and hands grew to the size of large earth worms. Just as I started to reach for my channeling rod, a brief knock came at the door. It swung open gently, and I turned to see the worried face of Mr. Grewa. “Mr. Jorgenson, I’m sorry to interrupt. I was wondering when you would be done with Sasha. I am outlining a big project today and it would make it difficult for her if she missed the instruction.” I could tell he was scared of Mr. Jorgenson. It endeared me to him even more, that he would come and seek me even though he was scared.
Mr. Jorgenson stared at the teacher for a moment before looking away and returning to his chair. “I’m done with her. For now,” he said.
I sat there, unsure if that meant I was excused. Mr. Grewa tapped me gently on the shoulder and nodded toward the door. I felt a moment of spite coming on. I didn’t like bullies, and Mr. Jorgenson was the worst kind of bully. He was a bully that was a supposed authority figure for kids. It made me angry. I acted on that anger even though I knew I shouldn’t. I leaned over a little bit extra as I stood and I ever so gently touched the back of Mr. Jorgenson’s computer monitor. That’s all it took to send it into cyberspasms. Mr. Jorgenson’s head snapped up as the monitor made a sick sounding beep and then he swore. I’m sure his eyes were boring into my back at that point, but I was already walking out the door behind Mr. Grewa.
When we were safely in the hallway, he slowed his pace and tipped his head toward me so I could hear him speaking in a hushed voice.
“There are some frightening things going on in this school. Please be careful, Sasha. Remember when the storm rages around you and the waves are crashing down on you, find something to hold onto. I hold tight to my beliefs. Whatever it is that you value above all else, hold onto that. Don’t ever give in to the storm, Sasha. Never give in to the storm.”
I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but I felt his concern and knew he was a good man. “Thank you, Mr. Grewa. Thank you for coming for me.”
He squeezed my shoulder briefly and we walked the rest of the way back to his classroom in silence. This man was definitely an ally.
found Seth in the crowded lunchroom and sat with him at a corner table. We saw Johnathan and Alec across the lunchroom at another table. My shoulders stiffened when two cheerleader-type girls sat down with them. I’m sure Alec was flirting up a storm. I just hoped that Johnathan wasn’t. The thought made me sick to my stomach.
We pulled out our sack lunches and I told Seth about my morning.
“Be careful, Paige,” he said quietly. “We can’t be sure about anyone just yet. For all we know, Mr. Jorgenson is the ally and Mr. Grewa is a Demon loving spell-caster.”
I shook my head. “I know. There was pure evil pouring off of our illustrious principal—I could feel it to my soul. And, just as sure as I am of his evil, I’m sure of Mr. Grewa’s goodness. I could feel that, too. We can trust him.”
“Okay. I trust your instincts.”
“So, what about you? Has anything unusual happened in any of your classes yet?”
“Oh, you mean besides the catatonic classmates and teachers that continue on as if everything was perfectly normal? No, nothing unusual compared to your morning full of excitement. But, I have metal shop right after lunch. I’m crazy impatient to see this contraption you and Johnathan saw …”
“Be careful, Seth. I doubt they’ll have it right out for just anyone to see. Don’t go looking for it. That would be sort of suspicious, don’t you think?”
“It was just out in the shop lot when you guys saw it. It doesn’t seem like they were trying too hard to hide it,” Seth said.
“Yes, it was just out in the lot, but it was the middle of the night. I’m sure they didn’t expect anyone to be snooping around. Just be careful. Don’t act suspicious.”
“Okay, okay. I won’t snoop. But, I still hope I can see it. Maybe I can figure out what it’s for.”
If any of us could figure that out, it’d been Seth. He was so into science and stuff.
I couldn’t help myself. I glanced back over at Johnathan’s table. He happened to be looking at me and he smiled. I, of course, smiled back. Until one of those blasted girls put her hand on his arm and said something to him. Something flirty, I was sure. He must have seen the murderous glare in my eyes because he shook his head at me and laughed before turning his attention to the perky blonde with her hand on his arm.
I was trying to decide which spell I was going to cast her way when Brendon sat down across from me, next to Seth.
“Hey, Sasha. How was History? Mr. Grewa’s a pretty cool teacher,” Brendon said.
“The part I went to was great,” I answered.
“Hi, I’m Seth, Sasha’s annoying little brother.” Seth held out his fist for a fist bump. Brendon obliged.
“Oh, sorry. I’m Brendon. Do you play football?” He eyed Seth’s muscular frame and big hands.
“I haven’t played for a couple of years, but, yeah. I love football.” And I could tell he meant it. His mouth was practically salivating with desire at the mere mention of the game.
“Well, our season isn’t even halfway over yet. You should come to practice after school and see if the coach’ll give you a chance for a spot … we’ve lost a few players in the last couple weeks. What position do you play?”
“Defensive line. I love to knock quarterbacks on their butts. What position do you play?” Seth asked.
“Hmm… quarterback. I guess you wouldn’t be knocking me on my butt if we’re on the same team, though, right?” Brendon answered with mock fear.
Seth laughed and said, “Naw, I’d hold back a little for a fellow teammate.”
I assumed I’d been forgotten at that point. I started to clean up our lunch mess when the bell rang. That seemed to jog Brendon’s memory of why he’d come over to our table. “What class do you have next, Sasha? I’ll show you where it is and you can explain to me why you missed History.”
“I didn’t miss all of History,” I argued. “I have pre-calc next … Mrs. Penrod’s class.”
“Ew, yuck. I hate math. Come on, we’d better get going, then. It’s clear across the school.”
On the way, I told Brendon about my encounter with Mr. Jorgenson. I didn’t tell him everything. I still wasn’t sure he wasn’t a plant, there to gather information from me. I was pretty sure he wasn’t, though, especially after the way he shuddered when I told him I’d been in Mr. Jorgenson’s office.
There was no more excitement for the day. I couldn’t wait until seventh hour, not because I loved Geography or anything, but because it was the class I had with Seth and I could find out how Metal Shop went.
I got to class before Seth did. He came through the door in an excited rush, stopping only long enough to find where I was sitting and lope over to me like an excited puppy. I was relieved to see the stupid grin on his face; I’d been worried his animated entrance was caused by anxiety.
“Sista! Guess what?” He plopped into the desk next to me and didn’t wait for me to answer before going on. “Brendon stopped me in the hallway just now—he talked to the football coach and he said I can play. He said he’ll just overlook the requirement for a physical and stuff. I can start practicing with them right after school today!”
I was happy for him. I hadn’t seen Seth this enthusiastic about anything since the day he figured out how to throw magical flames. But we were there for a very specific purpose, and I wasn’t sure football would fit into that. As much as I didn’t want to
deflate his enthusiasm, I had to bring him back to reality.
“That’s great Seth. But, we really need to concentrate on why we’re here. I’m just not sure football will help us figure out what’s going on here.”
He refused to let me ruin his high. “I think it will help, Pai … Sasha.” He looked around quickly to make sure no one caught his slipup. “At least two of the suicides were on the football team, and Brendon said that over a third of the players have just stopped coming to practice. They are now zombified, as he put it. I think the team might be a target for whatever’s going on.”
“Okay … well, that’s awesome, then, Seth. You might be onto something … and, you get to play your favorite sport while you investigate. Win-win, the way I see it.” I couldn’t help but smile at him. He was seriously stoked about this.
“Brendon said he’s sure I’ll be on the varsity team, too—as a sophomore. This is just so awesome!”
Before I could redirect our conversation to Metal Shop shenanigans, the Geography teacher walked in and shushed the class with a deep throated “ah-hem!” He dragged a TV on a rolling stand to the front and center of the room.
The teacher, a short and chubby man with a severely receding hairline and Harry Potter-esque glasses, looked as if he may have been quite jovial in times past. But, something had taken its toll on him. His eyes were bloodshot and his mouth was turned down in a perpetual frown. He didn’t bother taking roll or even seem to notice his two new students. He just waited for the five or six of us who had been talking to quiet down and said, “We’re going to watch a movie today about the Western Hemisphere. Take notes and try not to fall asleep.” He turned out the lights and started the DVD player. It was a good thing Seth and I were sitting clear in the back. Even so, I was a little worried we would somehow negatively affect the electronics.
The teacher sat at his desk in the corner and just stared out the window. I leaned over to Seth and whispered, “So, how was Metal Shop? See anything suspicious?”
“Not really. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Johnathan’s in that class with me. He looked out the big door to the lot when we were supposed to be cleaning up the shop. He said the tank thing wasn’t where it’d been when you guys saw it.”
Five: Out of the Dark Page 10
