School of the Dead (17 page)

Then he asked, “Your school do anything special for Halloween?”

I looked up. “They have a big party. And . . . I need a costume.”

Dad asked, “What are you thinking of being?”

“Alive.”

Mom said, “That's not very funny.”

It was not meant to be.

That night I should have worked on my history paper. Instead, I walked my slackline. Or tried to. Unable to concentrate, I kept falling. When my cell phone rang, I knew it would be Jessica. I considered not answering but decided that
wouldn't be smart. No point in letting her sense anything of what I'd learned.

“Hello.”

“Hey, it's Jessica. Tomorrow, Weird History Club. Last meeting before Halloween. Have you been studying the school plans?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“Learn them. But bring them to school.” There was more tension in her voice than before.

I asked, “Is Bokor going to be there?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“He said not to share the plans.”

She was silent a moment. Then she said, “Bring them. I'll take care of him.”

“Okay,” I said with a new understanding of what she meant.

“Tony . . .”

“What?”

“I'm your friend,” she said. “I'm trying to save you.”

“Sure.”

“We don't want to run out of time.”

She was right, for both of us.

Why, I puzzled, was Jessica so insistent that I study the plans? If she
was
Mrs. Penda, she had to be familiar with
every secret passage and room in the building.

To calm down, I decided I would work on the history paper. Usually I dropped my backpack by the door when I came in, but when I looked, it wasn't there. I searched. It wasn't in the apartment.

Then I remembered: I had left it in the school office. Which meant Ms. Foxton would know I'd been there. I could only hope she wouldn't notice it.

I went into my parents' room to say good night. Mom was in bed, reading. Dad was at his desk.

“Going to sleep,” I announced.

“'Night,” my parents chorused.

I turned to go.

“Oh, Tony,” my mother called. “I'm sorry. I forgot. Late this afternoon in the middle of a busy meeting, I got a call from Ms. Foxton.”

I froze. “About what?”

“I guess you left your backpack in the school office. She wanted you to know she found it. Asked if you got home, though why she should ask that, I can't imagine. I assured her you did.” She smiled. “Not that I really knew.”

I sat at my desk, trying to make sense of Ms. Foxton's call. She must have seen the backpack. Why would she call Mom
about it and ask if I got home? Was that her way of saying she knew I was in her office? Did she know I went down the steps?

I remembered Ms. Foxton's letter opener, which I'd used to pry open the chest lid. I had left it on the floor. Had she found that too?

I put the building plans in an envelope and went to bed, but all I could think about was what, if anything, Ms. Foxton knew. I wished I had asked the Penda Boy if
she
was working with Jessica.

Did I have
any
friends at the school?

I was having nightmares even before I slept.

In the morning, I went to school reluctantly, the manila envelope of plans in my hand. My black tie—like a noose—hung loosely around my neck. The gray, misty air reminded me of that foggy day when I felt Uncle Charlie's hands on my arm. As my eyes tried to focus on the blurry world, I told myself I had to be friendly with Jessica so she wouldn't guess what I had discovered. But how do you act friendly to someone when you know she is planning to kill you?

She was waiting for me at the school door, a stern look on her face. “Did you bring the plans?” she demanded.

“Sure,” I said, trying to sound easy.

“Where are they?”

I held up the envelope.

She rewarded me with a smile. “Knew I could count on you,” she said, which only added to my discomfort.

We walked into school together, but I halted by the office. “Have to go in for a minute,” I said.

Jessica said, “I'll wait.”

I didn't like that, but I had no choice.

Mrs. Z, behind her desk, looked up and smiled. On her desk was the red flashlight.

Seeing it stopped me cold. The last I'd seen it was when I dropped it from the spiral steps. In other words,
someone
had found it at the bottom. Put it on the desk.

“Good morning, Tony,” said Mrs. Z. “Your backpack is right over there.”

She knew about it too.

“Thanks,” I muttered, grabbed it and headed out. My head was whirling. If someone knew about my backpack, the letter opener,
and
the flashlight—and connected the dots—they knew where I had gone. The most obvious choice was Mrs. Z—Batalie's wife, the school watchdog. But she hadn't acted any differently toward me. I went back to worrying about the call my mom had received from Ms. Foxton. Was Ms. Foxton on my side, or Mrs. Penda's?

When I came out of the office, Jessica was waiting for me. I checked her face for some hint that she knew anything. I saw no sign, though she did say, “How come your backpack was in there?”

I managed a shrug. “Left it at school last night when I went home. Somebody found it. Called my mother.”

She said nothing. We went up the steps side by side. “Is Lilly your girlfriend?” she suddenly said.

“We're just friends,” I said. “Why you asking?”

Giving me one of her great smiles, she said, “Just making sure I'm still your best friend.”

The words felt like a punch in the stomach.

“Tell you what,” she said. “Better give those plans to me. I'll go over them during recess and lunch. By the time we have our regular meeting this afternoon, I'll have worked things out.”

I handed over the envelope.

As we went up, I looked over to the other staircase. For just a moment, the Penda Boy was there, eyes on me. I had no doubt he was reminding me of my promise: that I would go along with Jessica on Halloween. I glanced at her, relieved she couldn't see him.

We got to the second floor. She said, “Have to go talk to
Bokor. Remind him of our last meeting.”

Would she tell him I gave her the plans?

I walked into class. Batalie was at his desk. He looked up at me, fear in his eyes. I understood his fear now.

“Tony,” Lilly called out in her cheerful way, gesturing for me to sit near her. Her total lack of knowing was a relief. I sat down next to her.

She said, “Lunchtime, a bunch of us are going to work on plans for Halloween. Games and stuff. You should come.”

“Sure.”

“Do you know what you're going to be yet?”

“Nope. You?”

She grinned. “I've got a great idea.”

“What?”

“Not telling. It's so much more fun when people don't know who you are. Did anyone tell you there's a contest for the best costume?”

I said, “How come the school makes such a big thing about Halloween?”

“I suppose because of the Penda Boy.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, people always say his ghost is in one of our towers. That he died on a Halloween night. So it's as if we're
having a birthday party to remember him. Oh my God, a school for the dead. Don't you love it?”

Jessica came into the room. Her eyes went right to Lilly and me. She didn't say a word, just smirked.

When classes began, I couldn't pay attention. At recess, I stayed put, doing homework I hadn't done the night before.

The only other person in the room was Batalie. He looked up. “No recess, Tony?”

I said, “Some homework I didn't do last night.”

“Always good to plan ahead.”

For me, everything had extra meanings.

During lunch, it was a relief to sit with Lilly and her friends. Ian announced, as he had before, that his mother was making him a Penda Boy costume.

“So lame,” said Philip. “This place is too full of Penda Boys.”

“Don't care,” insisted Ian. “My mother made a great velvet suit. Putrid green, like in the painting.”

Madison asked Lilly about her costume.

She laughed and said, “It's a secret.”

“Do you know?” Mia asked me, as if I should know.

“Nope.”

“What are you going to be?” someone asked me.

“Haven't made up my mind.”

For some reason they laughed. I suppose you've made friends when you say something normal and people laugh. There it was, I had finally made friends, but I couldn't tell them what was happening.

Back in class, it was about two o'clock when Batalie said, “Okay, class. Wednesday club time. You know where you're going.”

The kids filed out. I hung back, but Jessica—manila envelope in hand—and Mac stood waiting for me at the door. I understood. They wanted to make sure I went to the meeting.

The Weird History Club was the only club that met in the cafeteria. No one was working in the kitchen. The air smelled of sour steam and soap. Empty food trays gleamed. A school janitor was swishing a mop over a wet floor,
slap, slap
.

“Okay,” Jessica began, “we're going to review how we're going to get rid of the Penda Boy and save Tony. He's the only one who can see the Penda ghost. So Tony has to lead us to him in the towers.”

“Which tower?” said Barney. He was nervously piling up sunflower-seed husks.

Jessica pulled out the building plans and laid them on the table. “Okay,” she said, “here are the plans for the Penda School building when it was first built. I've been studying them.”

“Cool,” Mac said, as he chewed on a fingernail.

“See,” said Jessica, pointing. “All these rooms—where servants lived—in the towers. Over here, passages and steps built into the walls.”

“Awesome,” said Barney, almost automatically.

They were all tense, twitchy, constantly sneaking glances at one another.

“Are they still there?” said Mac, as if reading the lines of a play.

Jessica pointed to a spot. “Here's a door right out of our homeroom.”

“Perfect,” said Barney.

“I'll pry it open,” Jessica went on. “With people in costume wandering about, playing stupid games like ducking for apples, no one will know what we're doing. Soon as I get the door open”—she nodded at me—“you go through—seven o'clock—and since you've been studying the hidden passageways, you make your way.”

I said, “Where am I supposed to go?”

Mac said, “Find the Penda Boy.”

“Alone?” I said, though I had no doubt they would all be
waiting for me somewhere.

The others looked to Jessica.

“I'll be totally with you,” she said.

Eyes shifted. I felt queasy.

“Cool,” said Mac. He patted her arm.

“Well then,” said Jessica, “that's the plan.”

“But . . . ,” I said, feeling I had to ask, “when—if—I find the Penda Boy, how . . . how do I deal with him before he . . . gets . . . me?”

“Good question,” muttered Mac. No one spoke. We all turned to Jessica.

She said, “I googled ‘How do you get rid of a ghost.'”

I couldn't believe she'd say something so stupid.

“It says you shine strong light on the ghost and point up. Or,” she added, “burn sage leaves.”

“What are sage leaves?” said Barney.

“Some kind of herb.”

It was so idiotic I almost laughed.

Mac said, “The Halloween party goes from five thirty in the afternoon till eight.”

“It'll be the best Weird History Club meeting ever,” said Barney.

Jessica said, “I'll bring a chisel or a knife . . . for the door.”

And for me
, I thought.

Jessica said, “Does everyone have a way to tell the time?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Let's meet at the door at seven.”

Mac said, “Wait! We have to know what costumes we're wearing, so we know how to find each other. I'm going to be a goblin.”

“Troll monster,” said Barney.

Jessica said, “Thought I'd be Mrs. Penda. You know, like that picture of her in the front office.”

The hair at the back of my neck prickled.

Mac grinned and said, “I like that.”

They all looked at me. Jessica said, “What are you going to be?”

“Not sure yet.”

Jessica said, “Come on, Tony, you have to decide. We need to know what you'll look like. Otherwise things won't work.”

“I'll get something,” I said.

“Make it quick,” Jessica snapped. “You've only got two days.”

There was some uneasy talk about past Halloweens and what people wore. Happily, it wasn't long before the end-of-school bell rang.

“Good,” said Jessica. “We're set. We're going to get rid of the Penda Boy.”

She folded up the plans, put them in an envelope, and handed it to me. “Study them. You have to know the secret passages by heart. That way you'll know where to go.”

When we got back to the classroom, though kids were there, Batalie was not. I assumed that too was planned, because Jessica went right to the back wall. She called Mac and me to come over.

“See?” she said, pointing.

I could see the faint outline of an old door.

She whispered, “It'll be easy to open.”

“Any knife would do,” said Mac.

Kids had already started to gather up their stuff and were leaving for the day. As Mac and Jessica drifted toward the door, I took my time.

From the doorway, Jessica called, “Tony, go work out your costume.”

I said, “I will.”

She gave me a thumbs-up and they left.

I waited a bit and then followed, determined to see where she went.

When I came out of school looking for Jessica, the morning's fog had thickened. The air was dank, the light ashen. Street colors were muted, the sharp edges of things blunted. The
world out of focus. The combination of poor light and kids milling about on the sidewalk meant I couldn't spot Jessica at first. It was her height, black hair, and slight limp that allowed me to catch sight of her moving along the street. She was alone.