by Joy Elbel
“What’s wrong? Did someone slip something nasty in there?” Uh, oh. Rachel was wearing her Sherlock Holmes hat—I could hear it in her voice. If I didn’t act quickly, she would open my locker and I would have some explaining to do.
Too late. While I hesitated, she acted. Before I could stop her, she flung the door open and peeked inside. I closed my eyes and waited for her scream.
“What is it? I don’t see anything weird—your locker’s always this messy.” My eyes opened and I peered around her shoulder. The noose was gone. I checked the bottom of my locker to see if it fell but there wasn’t anything there. How could I explain my irrational behavior?
“Uh…,” I stammered, “I thought I saw a spider in there. A big hairy one.” There’s the scream I was waiting for. Rachel released a shriek that nearly deafened me and sent the locker door flying shut again.
“God, Ruby! Why didn’t you warn me? I hate spiders—you know that!” She backed up into the middle of the hallway, brushing at her arms like an army of invisible spiders was marching its way upward. “You really need to clean that locker out!”
I felt bad lying to her, but her reaction was hilarious and I laughed harder than I had since Zach and I…. Just when my mind was off of him for five whole seconds, something happened to remind me of him. It always came back to Zach. Why did it always come back to Zach? Oh, I remember now. Because he was the most amazing boy in the universe and I had to give him up because of some stupid ghost. Life—or do I mean death—is so unfair. Whichever the case may be, I returned to miserable almost instantly.
When I got to homeroom and saw his empty seat, I wanted to cry. Then I saw Misty sitting there with the mother of all smirks on her face and sorrow turned to rage. I had to get even with her—maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday when she least expected it. Maybe once Garnet was under control I would have time to sit and hatch my evil plans, but for now, I was forced to sit and watch her gloat.
Rachel slid back into the seat directly beside me. “I can sit here until Zach comes back—that’s if he comes back.” Her trademark smile faded from her lips.
I was such an idiot. I was so focused on how I felt and how Zach must be feeling about this whole mess that I never even gave Rachel’s feelings a second thought. Her brother’s future at Charlotte’s Grove High School hung in the balance— she had to be worried sick about the upcoming school board meeting to determine his fate.
“Hey, if there’s anything I can do to help him get back into school, let me know. I feel really bad about that.” “Thanks, but unless you want to pay off the administrators like Misty over there, I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do. We just have to wait and hope for the best.”
I nodded in agreement. Zach was in a lot of trouble and there wasn’t anything I could do for him. I felt so helpless. He was in this mess because of me and I should have been the one to get him out of it. The best thing I could do for him was leave him alone—I had to remember that. Enough talk about Zach. I buried my nose in a book and left it there until the bell rang.
I needed a way to stay awake in World History class so I thought about Garnet. Aside from the spectral noose in my locker this morning, I hadn’t heard from her yet today. But I knew it was coming. I’d been out of school for a week— more than enough time for her to gather energy and a plan to torture me. If I only knew more about her, maybe this would be easier. She wasn’t a popular girl and with the exception of the one friend who always seemed to be in every picture with her, no one in her class would remember anything about her except for the way she died. I sighed heavily as my eyelids drifted slowly shut. If I died right this very second, the same would be said about me.
Suddenly, a chill entered the room. It was cool outside but the temperature inside Mr. Tucker’s room was always at least ten degrees warmer than it needed to be. Until now. She was here somewhere—waiting, watching. My eyes darted around the room in search of her but found nothing out of the ordinary. No one else even seemed to notice the drop in temperature. I was just about to chalk it up to my imagination when the chill I felt became more centralized. It swirled around me—unseen but definitely sensed—until it came to rest around my neck like a vaporous scarf. Then it began to squeeze.
Immediately, I reached for my throat in a vain effort to wrench it away. But there wasn’t anything to pry at—it was like I was being strangled by the very air itself. The chill wound its way tightly, loop after loop, until my breathing was nothing but a choking gasp. The room had been quiet except for the soft drone of Mr. Tucker’s voice but not anymore. The frantic sounds of my suffocation seemed amplified, resonating through the room and catching everyone’s attention.
“Miss Matthews, are you okay?” There was no trace of immediacy in Mr. Tucker’s voice. As my throat closed off and death hovered over me, he stayed as calm and unhurried as usual.
Speaking was impossible, so I vigorously shook my head no. The invisible noose increased the force of its grip on me. My lungs were next to exploding and my vision began to fade into a haze of white. My lips felt cold and I slid sideways out of my seat and onto the floor. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, the pressure ceased. As my vision returned to normal, I looked up to find Garnet standing over me with the noose from my locker in her hands. Then the apparition vanished and the only one standing next to me was Mr. Tucker.
“Are you okay now, Miss Matthews?” Again, the threat of my imminent demise was barely enough to raise his pulse a beat.
“I’m fine,” I croaked, “I choked on my gum.” “And that, my children, is the reason why we don’t chew gum in this classroom. Detention this afternoon, Miss Matthews.”
What? If it weren’t for bad luck, I would have no luck at all! Punishment for almost strangling to death in his class. If Garnet had him as a teacher, I could see why she would want to kill herself!
Fortunately, the bell rang for second period and I fled the room with relief. English was my favorite class and Mr. Raspatello was my favorite teacher so next period held the promise of better things. I walked into class with a smile on my face unaware that things were about to get worse. Much worse.
23. Black Raven Revealed
“So class, today we’re going to take a break from our reading assignments to talk about something important. Budget cuts and how they affect the advanced placement program.” Mr. Raspatello took off his blazer and wrote one word on the blackboard. Ideas. He underlined it three times with his chalk and then leaned against the front of his desk facing the class.
“Unless we can generate some interest in AP English, this could be the last year it’s offered. The school board doesn’t want to spend money for the extra books we use in this class if more students don’t sign up. Frankly, we’re losing more students each year than AP Chemistry and AP Bio combined. It’s up to us—to you—to come up with some fun ways to make this class more appealing to future students.”
Suddenly, the room was buzzing with excitement. Ideas shot out from every direction, every one of them good. Mr. Raspatello suggested that we narrow down our choices to two activities per month and two long term projects that we could work on throughout the year. Our first choice for October was Frankenstein Friday, celebrated on the last Friday of the month. We decided to all read Mary Shelley’s famous novel and then discuss which dead novelist we would most want to reanimate and why.
Our second selection was to read Bram Stoker’s Dracula and write a one page essay on why we would or wouldn’t want to be a vampire. I loved English class to begin with, but this just made it even better. And I had to admit, mostly, it was because of Mr. Raspatello. He was cool and fun—definitely the best teacher I’d ever had. He was ultrasupportive of my extracurricular writing efforts so when I raised my hand with a suggestion, I felt sure he would be thrilled with my idea.
“What’s your idea, Ruby?” He gave me a warm and encouraging smile. “Well, I was thinking it would be cool if we started our own book club. We could
choose a book together and then meet to discuss it afterward. I was thinking it would be cool if we called it the Black Raven Society—you know, in honor of Edgar Allen Poe.” I relaxed back in my seat waiting for him to sing my praises for suggesting such an awesome idea.
His face turned from a smile to a sternly disapproving look. “No. Next idea.” I was stunned along with the rest of the class. Usually I wouldn’t have pushed the envelope with a teacher, but I was comfortable with him and didn’t think he would mind.
“But why?” I protested and several other students murmured in agreement. “We wouldn’t have to meet outside of school hours or anything like that. We could just….”
“You can just drop it now is what you can do.” He flipped the notebook he held in his hands down onto the desk angrily.
I should have quit while I was ahead but I was confused by his sudden change in mood. I raised my hand but he refused to call on me. So I did the stupid thing and spoke anyway.
“I don’t understand why you think it’s a bad idea. You could choose the book list if you wanted.” “That’s enough, Miss Matthews. You were told to drop it and you didn’t. Since you love Edgar Allen Poe so much,” he said with a sneer, “you can write me a ten page essay on one of his works and how it affected future generations of writers in the horror genre. I expect it by Friday.”
His words stung harder than if he’d smacked me across the face. He was my favorite teacher, why did my suggestion make him so mad? I never saw him treat anyone that way before and I certainly didn’t expect to be the first. I fixed my eyes to my desk and didn’t look up again until I was on my way out of the room. With one sideways glance at him when he wasn’t looking, I saw a strange expression on his face. I knew that look well—it was the look of someone with something to hide.
The rest of the day was boring compared to those first two classes. Talk to no one? Check. Eat lunch alone? Check. Throw up that lunch before I even made it to my next class? Check. The only touch of drama came in physics when Chloe sat down next to me.
“Hey,” she said with a nervous smile as she offered me a piece of gum. What? and figure it Did she hear about my “incident” in history would be a good way to get rid of her
competition permanently? I didn’t just ignore her—I turned the other way in my seat so there would be no mistaking the fact that I wanted nothing to do with her. Apparently, she didn’t get the hint.
“I know you’re mad at me, Ruby, but I don’t know why. If we could just talk, I’m sure we could work this all out.”
I faced her angrily. “You know why and no amount of talking in the world will ‘work this all out’. He’s all yours— take him.”
A look of pure shock washed over her face. “If this is about Zach, you’ve got it all wrong! I….” It was impossible to sit there and listen to her lie to me about not wanting Zach. “Save it, Chloe. Save your lies for someone who will believe you. Try them out on Zach—he might fall for them.”
Her mouth snapped shut and she didn’t say another word to me. It felt good to stand up for myself for once. Now if I could only do the same with Misty.
When I got to detention, my original plan was to get started on what I decided to call my “punishment paper” for Mr. Raspatello. But as I wandered through the stacks trying to decide which of Poe’s works to write about, I found myself in front of the shelf housing the yearbooks. Without hesitation, I pulled out the volume labeled 1989 and returned to my table. If Garnet was a sophomore when she died, she would have been a freshman in 1989. Maybe, just maybe, I could learn something new about her that could help.
I checked the index in the back to find that she was only listed in two photos. The first was her class photo which was on page 52. I flipped to the right page, found her name, but when I looked at the picture I was certain that someone had gotten it wrong.
The photo above her name was that of an overweight girl with braces and bad acne. She was at least seventy pounds heavier than the photo from 1990. Don’t get me wrong—Garnet even at her best was no beauty queen, but this photo was wretched. The only thing that stood out to let me know for sure that it was her was her eyes. Sad, lonely, and pathetic eyes. But haunting—just like the eyes that stared at me in every class for the first week of school.
I checked the other photo listed on page 140 to find her listed as a part of the cafeteria staff. She—along with her only friend—was a student cashier in the cafeteria. Two overweight girls would get teased mercilessly for something like that. The other girl in the picture was listed as Stephanie Morgan. Curious, I checked the index to find a picture of the Black Raven Society but found no mention of it at all.
I would have to wait until I got home to check the 1990 yearbook, but I pulled out 1991 to see what I could uncover about the Black Raven Society. Again, nothing. Whatever it was, it only lasted for one year and it was quite possibly connected to Garnet’s suicide in some way. When detention was finally over, I left the school with a weary sigh. It was a rough day, but I felt like I was at least a half a step closer to solving the mystery.
When I got home, Dad and Shelly surprised me with a dinner invitation to City Lights. It was the last place I wanted to go but no amount of arguing would change their minds. Were they really that stupid? The last time we went to that restaurant Zach was with us and my dad tried to talk to us about sex right there in the middle of the restaurant. Getting Zach off of my mind was impossible enough as it was, let alone plopping me into a location that was filled with memories of him.
I stayed silent throughout the meal, washing down every bite of steak with a healthy sip of water. The food was so good last time but as always, nothing could compare to what it was when Zach was around. The queasy feeling in my stomach reminded me that the steak would taste even worse on its way back up. Please let it stay down at least until we got home. In the past few weeks, I’d discovered that there was nothing worse than vomiting in a public toilet. Nothing.
For once, I got a break and the steak behaved itself until I was safely back in my room. Once that was taken care of, I decided to start on my punishment paper for Mr. Raspatello. I chose to investigate the links between Edgar Allen Poe and Stephen King since I knew both of their works inside and out. After logging two pages worth of material, I was forced to take a break. I couldn’t get the Black Raven Society out of my head.
With the yearbook in hand, I flopped onto my bed and opened it to the index. I slid my finger down through the alphabetical list until it landed on what I was looking for. Black Raven Society—page 172. When I got to the correct page, I was disappointed. There was no description of the group’s activities, just a picture. I was just about to slam it shut in frustration when I noticed a name in the caption that I recognized. Not Hartley, not Morgan. Raspatello.
Chase Raspatello was listed as second from the left and founder of the club. He was standing right behind Garnet. The picture was so tiny I couldn’t make out any of his features. Could it be? Could Chase Raspatello be the same man who exploded on me today at the very mention of the Black Raven Society? Quickly, I tossed each page aside until I found his class photo.
He was younger, of course—and nowhere near as hot—but the face that stared blindly back at me was none other than that of my once-favorite English teacher, Mr. Raspatello. He knew Garnet! He never once alluded to the fact that he grew up in this town so I never gave him a second thought. But now, this photo combined with his reaction in class today, I let my mind wander through the possibilities.
Something happened that year that resulted in Garnet’s death. That something was tied to the Black Raven Society and in turn, to Mr. Raspatello. But what? And why was it such a touchy subject for him? Could he have something to do with her death? Could I have unknowingly incurred the wrath of a killer today? It seemed farfetched yet it was right there in front of my face. Mr. Raspatello killed Garnet and now she wanted me to expose his crime.
I was in way over my head. What clues could there stil
l be twenty years later? No DNA, no apparent witnesses. Just he and Garnet knew what really happened. Until now. How could I face him tomorrow morning knowing what I now knew? And worse yet—what would happen when he realized that I figured it out?
A sudden knock on my bedroom door nearly sent me through the roof. My nerves would have to be steady if I hoped to not tip him off tomorrow. I would have to work on that. Calming myself as much as possible, I called out, “Come in.”
“You have to come downstairs now! The first episode of Cinnamon Jones is on tonight!” Shelly burst into my room and rattled the words out so fast I barely caught what she said.
In the midst of all of my drama, I forgot that the TV series based on her mystery novels was making its debut. “I wouldn’t miss it!” I said as I hoisted myself out of bed. “Be down in a second.”
“You better be! Popcorn is popped and sodas are ready—all that’s missing is you!” With a flourish, she danced out of the room. Sometimes I could swear that she was an older version of Rachel, sent back in a time machine to bring a double dose of unfettered frivolity into my life. This was certainly one of those times.
I took one last look at the photo of Mr. Raspatello and shivered before closing the book. What was I going to do?
24. A Game of Cat and Mouse…Me Being the Mouse
I walked into homeroom with trepidation, keeping my eyes down and using Rachel as a shield. The thought of making eye contact with Mr. Raspatello terrified me. Did he know that I knew the truth? As I sat in my seat thinking about his role in Garnet’s death, curiosity overtook me. Holding my book at arm’s length, I peeked precariously over the top to get a good look at him. His dark eyes were staring straight back at me intently.
My hands began to shake and the book fell from my grip with a loud bang onto my desk. He knew alright. He knew and he was trying to decide what to do about it. Now I was being stalked by both a ghost and her killer. My summer bout with the paranormal was child’s play in comparison. I was in the big leagues now.
