Five: Out of the Dark (14 page)

He studied my schedule and smiled again. “It looks like we have the same first hour. I think you’ll like Mrs. C. She’s pretty cool, even for an English teacher. I don’t think you told me your name yesterday …”

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s P … Sasha.”
Oops, I almost messed up already
.

If he noticed the slipup, he didn’t show it. “Well, okay, Sasha, follow me.”

I followed him to the opposite end of the school—yep, I’d been reading the map upside down—and into a classroom that boasted shelves full of paperback books and walls full of posters. There was even a reading area with a small couch and a bunch of big pillows to recline on. I think Brendon was right; I was going to like this teacher.

More kids began to trickle in and take their seats. Brendon sat next to me and gave me a running commentary about each new arrival. “The girl with red hair is Chari. She plays softball and is a riot to hang out with. She’s still herself … for now.”

I would have found that an odd thing for him to say under normal circumstances. But there, at the school of the damned, it wasn’t so weird.

He continued. “That short kid is Cody. He used to be like the class clown or something. Now he’s barely there. I worry that he’s next.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed and frowned down at me, much as he had the day before when he warned me to change schools. “Something isn’t right, here. Everyone is … I don’t know …
changing
. They’re either sad or stoned or … I don’t know … oblivious to the world around them.” He paused and rubbed his hands roughly over his face. “I told you to find a different school.”

I looked at the fifteen or so students around me and then back at him.

“I
had
to come here.”

I left it at that. I’d been almost ready to confide in him. And that was dangerous. For all I knew, he could be one of the bad guys, as Seth had put it.

The bell rang, and a few seconds later, an older lady with orange hair came rushing through the door. She dropped an armload of books on her cluttered desk. She moved things around, looking for something. She looked in the desk drawers, in her huge purse, even under her chair. She mumbled, “Hmm. Where could they be?”

“Uh … Mrs. C.?” said the now-grinning Brendon. “Your glasses are on top of your head.”

“Oh … oh, thank you, Brandon. How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”

He leaned over and whispered to me, “She always says my name wrong. And she loses her glasses several times during class … they’re almost always on top of her head.” In a louder voice he answered her, “Just a lucky guess, Mrs. C.”

“Well … okay, then. Let’s get started.
To Kill a Mockingbird
will be our next endeavor. Brandon, can you and …” She tapped her finger on her lips, trying to figure out if she was supposed to know me or not.

“Mrs. C. This is Sasha. Today is her first day at good ol’ Edwards High.”

Mrs. C. smiled. “Oh, well, welcome to my class, Sasha. Could you and Brandon help me hand out the books, please?”

I don’t know what I’d expected, but the normalcy of her classroom activities kind of took me by surprise. Especially with the girl silently crying in the back row, the boy who looked like he hadn’t washed his hair or bathed in days sitting across the room, and the other students in various catatonic states.

About fifteen minutes after handing out the books, the girl in the back—the one that was crying—stood up so fast that her desk scooted forward and bumped hard into the one in front of her. She started screaming and pulling at her hair. She turned as white as freshly fallen snow. Her eyes bugged out of her head, staring at the corner of the room, behind where Mrs. C. stood with a look of dread on her face. Her piercing screams tore at my eardrums until I thought they would burst.

“Ashley? What’s …” That’s all the teacher was able to get out. Ashley ran to the window with a shriek and started pounding on it. When that didn’t have whatever effect it was she was after, she banged her head into it, hard. The glass cracked and she banged her head again, even harder. The glass shattered; huge shards fell to the floor. Brendon jumped from his chair and ran toward her. I followed. Everyone else, including the teacher, just stayed where they were. Most of the kids stared at her, but some of them were so lost in their own little world, I don’t think they even registered that something awful was happening.

I choked back a cry when the girl reached down and grabbed a jagged piece of broken glass that was the size of a large butcher knife, and plunged it toward her stomach with an unearthly scream. Brendon reached her just in time and grabbed her wrists. Blood was dripping from her hands. I reached her a second after he did. Brendon looked at me with raised eyebrows, I don’t think he expected anyone to help him. I grabbed the beanie off a boy’s head who was sitting close by—he didn’t even notice; he was one of the catatonic ones—and used it to shield my hand as I reached up to pry the glass from Ashley’s hands. Her fingers loosened their grip easier than I expected. Her hands went limp, along with her whole body. I pulled the glass away from her and threw it to the ground. She collapsed into Brendon’s chest, sobbing.

He looked at me over the top of her head. He was pale and shaking like a wet dog. I was afraid he’d pass out. I searched for something to wrap around the girl’s still-bleeding hands. There was a role of paper towels on the teacher’s desk.

“Mrs. C!” I yelled over the girl’s sobs. “Please throw me those paper towels!”

She shook herself out of her shocked stupor and tossed the towels to me. I spoke in a soothing voice, for Ashley’s and Brendon’s benefit. His skin turned from pale to ashen and he swayed a little. I was afraid he was going to go down.

“Ashley,” I coaxed, “give me your hands. Everything’s going to be just fine. Ashley? Look at me.” I held her hands in mine now. I pressed a wad of towels into her palms. In a sterner voice I said, “Hold these as tight as you can, to stop the bleeding.” To Brendon I said, “You—sit down before you fall down.”

He nodded shakily, backed up to a vacant desk, and sat hard.

“I’m going to take her to the office,” I said, looking at Mrs. C. She nodded silently, relieved, I think, that someone besides her was there to take charge.

“Do … do you need any help?” I was a little surprised at the offer from the red-headed girl, the one Brendon had called Chari.

An escort would have been nice to make sure I didn’t get lost, but I really wanted to spend at least a few moments alone with this bleeding girl.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “But, I think I’ll be fine. I wouldn’t want both of us to miss learning about killing mockingbirds.” I smiled.

She returned the smile and let out a breath, relieved, it seemed, that I’d turned her offer down.

Ashley looked toward the corner one more time and shuddered. I led her from the room, gently guiding her and whispering encouragement. We made it to the office with only a couple wrong turns. The secretary behind the desk was busy reading a magazine and didn’t even bother to look up. “Excuse me,” I said with obvious annoyance.

She glanced up with a sneer and looked like she was about to say something impolite, but the sight of Ashley’s blood all over both of us stopped her short. “What happened?”

I scrunched my eyebrows together and shook my head. “She needs the school nurse.” It took a lot of restraint not to add,
idiot
to the end of that.

“Oh, right.” She opened the gate and pointed.

We entered the cramped nurse’s room. I coaxed Ashley to the small cot against the wall and made her lay down. The nurse wasn’t in there so I poked my head out of the room and told the secretary to find her. I probably should have
asked
instead of
told
, but I’d lived without any authority figures for too long and forgot the subservient manners expected of youth when dealing with adults. Even stupid, annoying adults. She narrowed her eyes slightly but then she paged the nurse to the office.

“Ashley,” I said soothingly as I wrapped some gauze and tape around her wounds to try to stanch the bleeding. “What happened in there? What did you see?”

Her eyes met mine.
Hello
… there
was
someone home in there. The fear in her eyes was thick and heavy. Her lip quivered.

“What did you see?” I repeated.

She swallowed hard, almost choking on her own saliva. “I … saw … I saw … a monster.” Her voice was hoarse. She looked away from me like she didn’t expect me to believe her. But, I
did
believe her. I’d seen plenty of monsters in the little while since I’d left home. She didn’t have to convince me they existed.

“I believe you, Ashley.” I made my voice as soft and gentle as I could. “What did it look like?”

She closed her eyes tight and shook her head. I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her she would never be able to remove that image completely.

“Ashley. I want to help you. Tell me what it looked like.”

She opened her eyes and searched my face before finding whatever she was looking for there. “You’re new here,” she said.

“Yes. My name’s Sasha. What did you see in there, Ashley?” I repeated.

She hesitated before deciding to trust me. “It was awful. At first it looked like my friend, Amanda. But, it couldn’t have been her.” She looked down and added, “She killed herself last week.”

I waited.

“Then, she changed into a … a …
thing
. A thing with black scales and hand tipped wings. Like a … bat’s. It had huge eyes and
teeth
, so many
teeth
. It
smiled
at me, like it wanted to eat me.” She shuddered and closed her eyes again. Sweat beaded on her forehead. “It motioned me to come to it, then it shimmered and I could see Amanda again, but I could see through her. And … that
thing
… that
monster
reached out and held her … and touched her cheek … like it was her
boyfriend
or something.

“She smiled at me and motioned for me to join them. But … she’s dead, so I knew it was a trick. Then the thing started chanting,
‘kill yourself … join us … kill yourself … join us’
over and over in a creepy voice. I don’t really know what happened then.” She stared at her poorly bandaged hands.

“Ashley,” I said, “What’s happening here? What is …” I didn’t finish. The nurse walked in. She looked from me to Ashley and frowned.

“You can go back to class now. I’ll take care of her,” the nurse said.

I reluctantly stood and headed for the door. I turned and looked at Ashley one more time before leaving. Her eyes were closed tight again.

I found my way back to English class just as the bell to dismiss rang. I waited outside the door for Brendon. He was still a little pale, but he smiled when he saw me. “So? How’s Ashley? You didn’t happen to run into Mr. Jorgenson, did you? He’s the principal.” The flash of terror in his eyes when he said
Mr. Jorgenson
sent up a red flag.

“The nurse is taking care of Ashley. No, I didn’t see the principal, why?”

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.