Witherwood Reform School

by Obert Skye

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  Copyright Page

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  To you, the reader—good luck!

  YOU WILL BE CHANGED.

  DEAR READER

  I wish I could tell you that life is made up of nothing but sunshine and kittens—how cute and warm that would be—but I’ve a feeling you already know that’s not the case. You’re clearly smart enough to understand that on certain days bad things happen. And by bad things, I don’t mean stubbed toes or scraped elbows; I’m talking about things well worth fearing. Yes, fire can burn you, and poison may kill. But are you aware that sometimes great tragedy can come from something as simple as not holding your breath at the right time, or widening your eyes when the moment calls for them to be shut tight? I now know that whole histories can be changed, and lives can be burdened forever, by the simple misuse of a gravy boat. How do I know this? Well, let’s just say I know the Eggers children, and I’m painfully aware of what they are going through. May you find more hope than abhorrence in their tale.

  Yours in either case,

  Obert Skye

  PROLOGUE

  A GIANT SEED

  Some prologues are just for show, bits of writing that come at the beginning of books directly before the good stuff. If you’re like me, you might not care for them. You probably wish they’d just get to the story already, dive right into chapter one. I understand, but I want to assure you that this prologue is important—it’s also not that long. And whereas I don’t wish to be the kind of person who tells you what to do, I suggest you read it.

  There is a very old desert not too far away from where you now sit, stand, lie, or lean. It’s as wide as a great lake and as empty as the parking lot of a long-abandoned mall. If you squint hard enough, you can see purple-tinted mountains off to the west. No need to squint while looking the other direction, because all that’s there is desert—dusty land that appears to simply run off into the horizon like a dry river that has no end and no beginning.

  Thousands of years ago, something happened in this desert—something unusual. It began as a normal day, but as the afternoon descended, the once-clear sky became overcast. Gray clouds moved in, causing the sky to look like a thick soup filled with dark mushy potatoes and noodles of twisting sunshine. Those noodles reached down and poked bits of the land, where weeds grew in the fashion of unwanted hair on the earth’s dusty back.

  As the lonely desert lay blanketed in gray, an object deep in space hurtled toward the earth at a remarkable speed. Rodents and insects living on the soil looked up in surprise as the air filled with the sound of a massive meteor screaming toward them. The meteor broke through the earth’s atmosphere, creating a boom that mimicked a billion sheets of glass shattering against a metal floor. The boom was followed by a whistle. Three seconds later, the meteorite smacked against the soil in the middle of the desert. It was no ordinary smack—it was the kind of smack that steals every bit of your breath and leaves you feeling sick and unsettled for weeks to come.

  A massive ring of dust and smoke shot into the swirling sky. Dozens of birds collided in the air and fell to the earth. It was very dramatic and awesome, not in the sense of a cool new shirt or a particularly great song, but awesome like two planets colliding.

  The ground settled, and the gray clouds above exhaled and spread out slowly. A light rain began to fall, and the desert calmed. For a moment things looked as they always had. The only difference was that where the meteorite had slammed down, there was now a wide, hissing hole in the earth.

  The new hole gurgled and spit. It widened, and dirt shot out like a filthy fountain. The winds intensified, and the hole quickly began to suck the soil back down into itself.

  The rain increased.

  Rocks and dirt flew in from all directions, drawn to the buried meteorite. In a few moments, there was a mound of soil big enough to be called a hill. The mound burped, sending dirt up and out into the wet air like muddy vines. Waves of wet soil rolled across the desert, washing up against the hill and pushing it higher and higher. Boulders the size of cars tore loose from the ground and flew in.

  The smaller waves of soil were followed by a tsunami of land from the east. It thundered in and engulfed the hill, packing the earth and quickly making it hundreds of feet higher. Soil twisted and rolled from the bottom to the top, giving the hill a surface as level as any respectable table. The soil still blowing fell to the earth with a great harrumph! And then the rain stopped.

  The purple-tinted mountains in the distance had not moved, but the desert was no longer empty. Where there was once nothing, now there sat a towering mesa hundreds of feet high. It had three steep sides and a sloping back, and it stuck up from the flat land like a blocky thumb. The birds that had fallen to the ground shook it off and took to the sky once more, acting as if a meteorite had not just come to earth and created a lonely mesa that would remain empty for thousands of years. Until the day when some well-meaning travelers would discover it and one of them would have the bright idea to build a school on top of it.

  CHAPTER 1

  LUMPY GRAVY

  Tobias Eggers looked at his sister, Charlotte, as they sat at the dinner table with their nanny. He breathed out slowly and nodded. It wasn’t the kind of nod one civil grown-up would give another grown-up as they passed on the sidewalk. Nor was it the sort of nod you might use when someone asks if you would like a piece of cake. Nope, it was the kind of nod that only a mischievous child could execute. Charlotte nodded back, her hands shaking slightly.

  Tobias patted the object hidden in the front pocket of his red hoodie. He reached up to the back of his head and squeezed a handful of his dark brown hair—a habit he had had ever since he was a little kid. The top of his hair stuck up slightly, and his shoulders were wide, making him appear much more athletic than he actually was. Tobias was smart and good with his hands. It was not unusual to find him taking apart locks and machines to see how they worked, or to find him with a pencil in hand drawing maps and making lists. If he had been making a list at the moment, item number one would have read Get back at Martha.

  Tobias glanced across the table and focused on their nanny. Martha Childress was a large woman who was currently groaning and mumbling as she shoveled food into her face. She had a fork in one hand and a spoon in the other, and she was whirling potatoes and meat into her mouth like a buzz saw. She was wearing the same brown blouse and same boring blue skirt she always did. She was also wearing a plain white apron. It looked like the employee uniform of a store called Dull. Her sensible black shoes knocked against the legs of the table and made everyone’s plate shake. Martha had been Tobias and Charlotte’s part-time nanny for the last couple of months. As far as nannies went, she was awful, but as far as humans went, she was even worse—she was horrible, ghastly, evil, and as rotten as mayonnaise-soaked fish left out on a warm day. She yelled when it was normal to whisper, screamed when most people would just speak; she insulted everyone but their father. Recently, she had ta
ken to shoving Charlotte around and issuing uncomfortable threats.

  “I’m quite good at making things look like an accident!” Martha had told Tobias three days ago when she found dirty clothes on his bedroom floor.

  Tobias had hoped she was joking, but yesterday Martha had almost pushed Charlotte down the stairs by “accident.” When Tobias told his father, he only instructed Tobias to be obedient and mind his elders. But Mr. Eggers had no idea how rotten an elder Martha was. And since his dad wouldn’t listen, Tobias had decided to take matters into his own hands. He looked at Martha and Charlotte as they sat at the table and cleared his throat.

  “No coughing,” Martha snapped. “This isn’t a barn.”

  “Sorry,” Tobias apologized. “Would you pass the gravy?”

  Martha glared at him. “What?”

  “The gravy.” Tobias pointed.

  “Would you pass the gravy, please?” Martha corrected snidely. “It’s a delinquent who asks for things without adding please.”

  “But you said I was a delinquent,” Tobias reminded her.

  “Watch your tongue,” she chastised him.

  “Right,” Tobias told her. “So, would you pass the gravy—please.”

  Martha pursed her thin lips and scratched at the three long hairs sticking out of her fat chin. She burped and picked up the white porcelain gravy boat.

  “I’m tempted to just ignore your request,” Martha said, passing the gravy. “But I’ve been burdened with a caring heart, and I have a difficult time being harsh.”

  Charlotte couldn’t stop herself from laughing. She put her hand over her mouth to try and hide it.

  “Excuse me,” Martha snapped. “Is there something funny?”

  Charlotte Eggers was exactly one year younger than her twelve-year-old brother, Tobias, but her sense of humor was just as sharp. She and Tobias shared the same birthday, March 4—the only date on the calendar that was also a command. Charlotte possessed large brown eyes that resembled dark coins in deep white wells. Her hair was shoulder length and blond, and she was constantly brushing it forward to hide her small, slightly pointed ears. For an eleven-year-old, she appeared cheerful. She looked like the kind of kid who might be used in an ad to convince others that they needed to buy something cute. In reality, she was more suited to be the spokesperson for something tricky or complicated. Charlotte was more athletic than Tobias. Alone she was fairly reasonable, but with her brother, she was good-natured, pleasantly stubborn, highly mischievous, and brutally clever. As a team, they not only attracted trouble at every turn, but if for some reason trouble didn’t show up, Charlotte and Tobias would usually track it down, wait for it to fall asleep, and then stick trouble’s hand in warm water so it would wet itself.

  “So what is it?” Martha snapped. “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m just remembering a joke that Tobias told me earlier,” Charlotte lied.

  “Really?” Martha asked suspiciously. “Tobias told a joke? I demand to hear it.”

  The two children stared at her. This would be a challenge, seeing how the mood was terribly unfunny at the moment.

  “On second thought,” Martha said, sniffing, “don’t tell me. Knowing your spirit, I’m sure the joke would be filthy.”

  “What?” Charlotte asked defensively.

  “Save it. Your mouth’s as dirty as your home.”

  Tobias wanted to point out that it was Martha’s job to help clean up the home, but she began to eat again, and her moaning and chewing were too loud for him to get a word in edgewise. Food dripped down onto her white apron like muddy rain.

  Tobias looked at his sister. It wasn’t often that she was bothered, but her neck was red with frustration. He squeezed his fists and breathed out slowly. Up until now there had been a small part of him that regretted what he was going to do, but that small part had just been smothered by the way Martha was talking to Charlotte. So, with a relatively clear conscience, Tobias reached down and quietly pulled a glass jar from the front pocket of his red hoodie. He kept the jar in his lap and out of view of Martha.

  Earlier that day, Tobias and Charlotte had gone on a hike. They had journeyed up to a stagnant pond located about a mile from their house. The pond was drying up and conveniently filled with tadpoles and slime. Tobias had dipped the jar into the puddle and collected hundreds of tadpoles along with a generous helping of the muck they were swimming in. He had hoped to put them in Martha’s drink, but fortune had smiled, and Martha had made gravy for dinner. And Tobias believed that gravy was the perfect food to hide things in. Not only was it naturally lumpy, but it was brown.

  Tobias carefully screwed the lid off the tadpole jar as he sat at the table. He popped off the top, and a whiff of putrid water drifted up under his nose and caused him to choke slightly.

  Martha looked up and sniffed. It wasn’t unusual for her to break wind during dinner, and she looked confused. She sniffed again, figured the smell must be hers, and then continued to go at her food.

  Tobias signaled Charlotte with a nod.

  “Martha?” Charlotte asked softly.

  Martha stopped her gluttonous eating and stared at Charlotte. She had mashed potatoes around her lips and there was a bit of partially chewed meat dangling from one of the long strands of her poorly braided hair.

  “What?” she asked, bothered. “Can’t you see that I’m eating?”

  “I’m sorry,” Charlotte said. “I was just wondering if the time on that clock is right.” Charlotte pointed to the clock hanging on the wall behind Martha. “It sounds off.”

  “You and your funny ears,” Martha said without looking. “It’s right. Clocks are always right. Now eat.”

  Charlotte looked at Tobias and shrugged. She had set the clock wrong earlier, hoping that Martha would turn around and look at it long enough for her brother to do what he needed. Tobias motioned for her to try again.

  “So it really is ten thirty?” Charlotte asked.

  Martha dropped her fork and spoon with a clang and spun around to glance at the clock. As she turned, Tobias lifted the jar of tadpoles and tilted it above the gravy bowl. The entire contents of the jar slid out in a lumpy chunk. Tobias pulled the empty jar back, and Charlotte gasped as the big wriggly blob settled into the gravy.

  Martha swung around and stared at Charlotte. “Why are you gasping? So what if the clock’s not set right? Have your father fix it when he gets home. Now, stop bothering me.”

  Tobias looked into the white gravy boat. He could see lumps squirming around in the brown sauce.

  “What are you staring at?” Martha barked.

  “Gravy?” Tobias offered, lifting the bowl.

  “Give that here!” Martha yanked the gravy boat away from him. “What is it with you two? You have the table manners of shrews.” As she scolded them, she poured a river of the altered gravy onto her potatoes and meat. Slimy brown lumps oozed around in the brown gravy, twitching and burrowing into her meal. Tobias and Charlotte saw it all, but Martha had her eyes on them. “If you were my kin, you’d be in bed right now with sore rears and empty stomachs. No wonder your mother left you.”

  Tobias’s blue eyes burned. “She didn’t leave us. She died.”

  “Same difference. She’s gone, isn’t she?” Martha picked up her spoon and fork and dug into her potatoes. While still staring Tobias down, she lifted her fork and inserted into her fat mouth one of the largest bites of gravy-covered food any human has ever taken.

  Charlotte shivered as Martha’s lips smacked down, sucking the wriggling gravy in.

  “Stop staring,” Martha commanded. She scooped up another enormous bite and shoveled it in. “You’re making it impossible for me to enjoy what I’ve created.” As she talked, Tobias and Charlotte could see the food and the tadpoles being chomped on by Martha’s crooked teeth.

  Charlotte covered her eyes.

  “What are you doing?” Martha scolded. “Eat.”

  “No thanks,” Tobias said. “The gravy’s a little lumpy.�
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  Martha attempted to swallow so that she could clear her mouth and lecture Tobias. Unfortunately, the large wad of food got stuck in her throat. Her eyes flashed wide, and she glared at the Eggers children. The fat on her neck wriggled as two tadpoles slipped out of her mouth and fell onto the table. She looked at the bowl of gravy and then down at her plate at a number of squirming brown dots.

  Her fat eyes bulged.

  Martha pulled her hairy chin back into her neck and began to gag and spit. Her head shook as her wide tongue hung out of her mouth and her right eye twitched.

  “Why, you…,” she sputtered angrily, reaching for her throat. “I … can’t … breathe.”

  “You weren’t supposed to take such a big bite!” Tobias said defensively. “You shoved half of your meal into your mouth.”

  Martha’s face was growing redder as she tried to swallow what she had taken in. She banged the table with her hands as her mouth and nose leaked things that mouths and noses shouldn’t leak.

  “What do we do?” Charlotte asked anxiously, her brown eyes as wide as the plates they were eating from. “She wasn’t supposed to choke!”

  “Pat her on the back!” Tobias suggested.

  Charlotte jumped up and began to slap Martha on the back. “It’s not working.”

  “Harder!” Tobias commanded her.

  Martha pounded the table, shaking frantically.

  “It’s not working!” Charlotte yelled. “Hug her. Do that choking thing!”

  Tobias moaned and moved behind Martha. He wrapped his arms around her big body and closed his eyes. His arms barely reached around, and when he pulled back, his hands got stuck between a large doughy roll of her stomach and her bosoms. Martha shot up out of her chair, holding her throat with one hand and swinging at Tobias with the other.

  “I’m trying to help!” Tobias informed her.

  Martha swung and missed. Her body twisted, and she fell forward toward the two children. Charlotte pulled Tobias out of the way as Martha did a belly flop against the wood floor. The impact dislodged the food in her throat like a popped cork. A large wad of food shot out of her mouth and stuck to the wall. Then, like a balloon being untied, air raced out of Martha’s lungs, ears, and behind. She coughed and sputtered, spitting gravy and tadpoles all over the kitchen. Martha caught her breath and then rolled over onto her back. She stared up at Tobias and Charlotte. The room smelled like a horrible mixture of fear and gas.