The Academy (25 page)

“I want you all to be quiet once we’re inside,” Mr. Myers warned them. “If either Mrs. Fratelli or I have to speak with you, points will be deducted from your grade on this assignment.” He opened the door for them. “Now walk over to the two tables in front of the history aisles. Those are ours. Put down your books and backpacks, then go to the computers and take turns looking up books and articles that pertain to your topic. There may be other classes in here as well, so you may have to share.”

There was a quiet rush as students hustled into the library, dropped their things off at the tables, then jockeyed for position at one of the four computers. Brad knew that the library’s history section was arranged by subject, so instead of waiting for his turn at the computers, he walked down the first aisle, reading spines, until he found a group of books on the Constitution and the First Amendment. It was a gratifyingly large group of books, and he pulled them down one by one, checked through the indexes, then chose the two that seemed most promising.

He was taking notes, and half of his class had returned to the tables with their own research materials, when Ed came by pushing a wheeled cart filled with books that needed to be reshelved. Brad grinned at him. “Having fun?”

“Yeah. I got a book here for you.” He tossed a hard-back on the table and pushed the cart past. Brad looked down at the title:
Creative Flower Arrangement
.

He laughed.

“Hey!” someone said. “Heads up!”

From the second table, a book flew out and hit Ed in the back. He winced in pain, then bent down to pick it up.

“That’s why his mama named him EH!”

Brad saw Rick Schlaegel laughing, and, standing, he picked up his own book, walked by as though he was going to return it to the shelf and “accidentally” used it to hit Rick in the back of the head.

“Ow!” Rick cried out.

Around him, everyone giggled.

“Sorry,” Brad said. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah, right. Your ass is grass, Becker.”

“Anytime, pussyboy.”

“Later,” Rick promised darkly.

“He won’t be able to make it later,” Ed confided in a whisper. “He’ll be too busy fucking your mom.”

Rick jumped up and grabbed for Ed.

The teacher was suddenly right there. “Do we have a problem, Mr. Schlaegel?”

Rick sat down docilely.

Behind the instructor loomed Mrs. Fratelli. The librarian was looking at the two tables as though they were populated by cockroaches, and the black expression on her face caused everyone to immediately return to work. Still standing, Brad went into the history aisle and hid, pretending he was looking for another book.

A few moments later, when he was pretty sure it was safe, he went back to his seat. Opening one of his texts to the page indicated by the index, he started taking notes. A few moments after that, he saw Ed at the far end of the room, pushing his cart into one of the aisles, and he picked up the book on flower arranging and brought it over to him.

Ed took the volume. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“He deserved it.”

“What do you think you are, my protector or something?”

“I did you a fucking favor. Show a little gratitude, will you? I just let him know that he can’t get away with shit like that.”

“Actually,” Ed said, “he can. Besides, I’m used to it.” He looked at his friend. “You should know that by now.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Brad admitted.

“I’m not sure why,” Ed went on, picking up a book from his cart, “but I guess I’m some kind of natural victim. I don’t think I’m especially dorky or weird-looking or anything. But . . .”

“You have a big mouth,” Brad pointed out.

“This is true.”

“For what it’s worth, Myla doesn’t think you’re
that
big of an asshole.”

“But is she going to set me up with one of her friends?”

“Would you
want
one of her friends?”

“That’s a point,” Ed conceded. He placed a book on the shelf, made its spine even with those on either side of it. “But to be honest, dude, at this stage I’d take just about anything. Hey, how
is
your mom these days?”

“There’s that mouth.”

“Right. Sorry.” Grinning, Ed picked up another book from the cart. “You’d better get your ass back. Myers’ll shit a brick if he sees you standing around talking to me instead of working on whatever you’re supposed to be working on.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to stay a little after class, let him know how conscientious I am.”

“Good plan. I’ll stop by after I get off.”

“Get off?”
Brad widened his eyes in mock shock.

“You’re going to get off here in the library? What if someone catches you?”

“Go to hell.”

Laughing, Brad walked back to his seat at the table. Mr. Myers frowned at him, but the teacher didn’t say anything and Brad immediately started poring through a book and writing down facts about the First Amendment, making sure he did so with a serious and dedicated look on his face.

Annabelle Ivers returned near the end of the period, the goth girl delivered to Mr. Myers in the library by the same two scouts who’d dragged her out of the classroom. She was no longer wearing any jewelry and her hair was combed in a modified pageboy. Her black clothes were gone, replaced with clean khaki pants and a beige T-shirt on which were printed the words PROPERTY OF TYLER HIGH.

Did that refer to her or the T-shirt? Brad wondered. Because not only Annabelle’s wardrobe had changed. Her attitude was entirely different as well. She was still quiet, but not in a sullen, disassociated way. She seemed meeker, almost submissive, and when Mr. Myers asked her to sit down in a specific chair, she did so politely and without complaint. Brad glanced around at the other kids in his class. They were all looking about in an effort to confirm that the surprise they felt was shared by everyone else.

The bell rang soon after, and the students around him gathered their belongings and walked out in a surprisingly subdued manner, obviously more affected by the mystery of Annabelle’s transformation than he would have thought. Brad himself waited until Mr. Myers finished talking to Mrs. Fratelli and left, before he put away his own materials. There were two books he wanted to check out, and he took them up to the front counter, where a blank-faced blond girl sat staring into space, making no effort to leave even though school had ended. He handed her his ASB card and the books, and she silently scanned them and pushed them back.

Turning around, he saw Ed coming toward him down the center aisle, and he walked over to meet his friend.

“What’s with her?” Brad whispered, motioning back toward the front counter.

“They’re all like that,” Ed confided. “All the TAs. Except me of course.”

“It’s like she’s hypnotized or something.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

“Do they act like this all day long, in their regular classes, or is it only in the library?”

“You got me,” Ed said. “They’re not anyone I know, and I’ve never seen any of them outside of this building.”

Brad found that creepy. He imagined a workforce of whey-faced zombies living permanently in the library and doing Mrs. Fratelli’s bidding, that girl at the counter remaining there morning, noon and night, sitting motionless until someone needed to check out a book. But, of course, that couldn’t be possible because Ed was here, too, and he was just a regular student who’d transferred from another class to become a TA.

Brad stopped himself. He wasn’t questioning the idea that zombies could work in the library; he thought it seemed illogical just because Ed was a TA as well?

That alone spoke volumes about this semester.

“Aren’t there, like, assistant librarians?” he asked. “Adults?”

“There’s supposed to be one, Miss Green, but I’ve never seen her.”

“Don’t you think that’s weird?”

The answer was so obvious that Ed didn’t bother to answer but merely gave him a “What do
you
think?” look.

“You know,” Ed said, “there’s a thing here in the library called ‘Special Collections.’ Upstairs. It’s apparently filled with stuff that’s been donated to the library but that students can’t check out.”

“What’s in there? Antique books?”

“Porn, I’m thinking. But I don’t have access to it, so I don’t know.”

“You wish,” Brad said.

“You’re right. I do. But I’m not just talking out of my ass, and it’s not as far-fetched as it might seem.” Ed glanced over at the front counter, then motioned for Brad to follow him. “Remember those books I was putting away?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I found one on my cart that wasn’t supposed to be there.” Ed kept walking, turning down one aisle, then another. The library suddenly seemed bigger than it should, and for a brief second, Brad felt something like vertigo. “It didn’t have any call letters. And the freaky thing is that I don’t remember putting it on the cart when I was sorting. It just
appeared
there.” Ed stopped, reached up. “I didn’t know what to do with it, so I put it here.” From the top shelf, he brought down a slim volume bound in brown, with neither words nor pictures on its cover. “Check it out.”

Brad took the book from his friend. Glancing through its pages, he saw words in a language that might have been French, and old overexposed black-and-white photographs of children who were maimed, deformed or afflicted with gruesome diseases of the skin. “What the hell is this?”

“That’s what I was wondering. Flip to the back of the book.”

Brad did so and saw photographs of a beautiful woman, completely naked, her body contorted into painful-looking but decidedly erotic poses. “Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I just saved it to show you.” Ed put the book back on the high shelf. “Tomorrow, I’m going to show it to Mrs. Fratelli, see what happens. My guess is she’ll take it to Special Collections.”

Brad looked up and down the aisle. “I’ve never liked this library. And now I
really
don’t like it.”

“I don’t either,” Ed admitted. They started walking back the way they’d come, zigzagging between the stacks. “It’s like a maze in here,” Ed said. “There’s a basement, too. Did you know that? I didn’t.” He shook his head. “I actually got lost in here one time. It doesn’t make much sense, but I did, and Mrs. Fratelli had to find me and lead me back to the front counter. The place isn’t really that big, but sometimes it seems confusing.”

Brad knew what he meant and was about to say so when they reached the main aisle and practically ran into a group of students who seemed to be heading toward one of the two study rooms against the east wall. Nathan Whitman, as obnoxious and arrogant as he always was, tried to press past them, using his shoulder to push Ed aside.

“Uh, the library’s closed,” Ed told him.

“We always have our Bible study meetings here. Mrs. Fratelli said we could.”

“Church, state,” Ed said.

“It’s after school.”

“Church, state. Church, state. Church, state.”

“You are going to hell,” Ashley Hallett told them.

“Just for the thoughts I have about your sister each night,” Ed agreed.

“Your soul is not a joke!” another girl chimed in.

“No, but you are,” Ed replied. He leaned close to Nathan and held a hand to the side of his mouth as though whispering an important secret. “We were just looking at a book back there, and you can see pictures of this woman’s twat.” He did his best Borat impression. “Niiiiiiiice.”

Mr. Carr, presumably the club’s sponsor, walked up. He frowned at Brad and Ed. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” Brad said, starting to walk away.

Ed stayed his ground. “I was just trying to explain the concept of the separation of church and state, but Nathan-boy didn’t seem to understand.”

“I will thank you to leave our study group alone,” Mr. Carr said. “Any more harassment on your part, and I will tell both Mrs. Fratelli and Principal Hawkes.” He placed a hand on Ed’s shoulder before moving on. “I will pray for you.”