Witherwood Reform School (8 page)

Tobias and Charlotte walked slowly down the middle of the room, glancing around. The top half of the walls was covered in red textured wallpaper, and the bottom half had a gray wainscoting that ran around the room. The floor they were standing on was wood and looked as if it hadn't been polished in years.

“I miss our house,” Tobias said.

At the foot of one of the cots, there were some shoes. Two other cots were ripped and torn up so much they looked unusable.

Tobias walked to the window and pushed the green curtains aside. The window looked out behind the school. There were too many trees for him to see much. He studied the latch and tried to open it. It would have been easy to bust open, but there were heavy bars on the outside of the glass, so it wouldn't have done any good.

He sat down on a cot directly under the window. Comforting sunlight trickled in and rested on his knees. Charlotte took a seat on the cot next to his.

“Did you see what that Gulp lady was wearing?” Tobias asked. “It looked like what Martha always wears.”

“Grown-ups like boring clothes.”

“I don't know,” Tobias said. “Something's really off here. I need a pen to write stuff down.”

“Maybe they'll pass pens out at Student Morale Day,” Charlotte said sarcastically.

“I can't wait that long.”

Tobias looked around the room, wishing a pen or pencil might magically appear. The dust sparkling in the rays of sunshine caught his attention.

“Wait,” Tobias said, standing.

“I don't think there's anything else we can do,” Charlotte reminded him.

Tobias walked to the corner of the room and lifted up one of the cots. The floor beneath it was as dusty as everything else.

He knelt and with his finger began to draw an outline in the dust. Charlotte stood up and watched over his shoulder. The dust was thick, and his finger worked like a pencil sketching black lines. Tobias tried to duplicate the map he had seen in Orrin's office. He then drew the iron gate and the parts of the gardens he could remember.

“I wish I had a pen and some paper, but this will have to do. It helps me to look at things, and we need to know where we are. Every detail could be important to getting out.”

“I don't know how dust is going to save us,” Charlotte said. “I want Dad. What if he came back last night and that
thing
got him?”

“I don't think that's what happened,” Tobias said, standing up and looking at his rough map. “He's probably home thinking about what a great lesson he's taught us. We're going to have to get out of this ourselves.”

The two Eggers kids stared at the map on the floor. It was roughly drawn, but seeing the image somehow made Witherwood more real. They weren't just in a strange room on a strange mesa. They were a part of something far more mysterious.

Neither one said anything for a moment as they let their situation settle over them. Tobias then carefully moved the cot back and hid the map.

He finally spoke. “You know, I can't stop thinking about something.”

“Like when are they going to feed us?” Charlotte guessed.

“No,” Tobias said as his stomach rumbled. “I mean, we could stay in here until someone comes and tells us to do something else, or we could check out door number eight. Sure, Orrin told us to stay away from other doors, but door number eight might be a way out.”

“But he said there are eyes watching.”

Tobias waved. “That's what grown-ups always say.”

“True,” Charlotte agreed.

“I mean, it seems like it'd be wrong not to take a look.”

“Ms. Gulp locked us in,” Charlotte reminded him.

“I can fix that.”

Tobias stood and walked over to one of the ripped-up cots. There were springs at the corners, and he carefully worked one of the loose ones off. Tobias bent the end of it into an
L
shape. He held it up and smiled at his sister.

“Should I be impressed?” Charlotte asked.

“Not yet.”

Witherwood was a mystery in many ways. Its purpose was a secret that few people knew. It was built on top of a mesa that had sprouted from a meteorite. It was made of stone and hardwood—a mighty, formidable fortress. But it had pathetic old locks. At night they chained and padlocked all the outside doors. The school would have benefited greatly from electronic keys. Instead, most doors still had the original hardware made in the 1800s. It took a little time, but by simply using the bent spring, Tobias picked the lock and opened the door to their room.

“That's such a useful talent,” Charlotte said.

“It's an ancient lock. Remember when I started Dad's car without a key? This was way easier.”

Tobias carefully stepped out into the hall. It was quiet, and the smell of something earthy filled his nose.

“Someone's cooking broccoli,” he whispered.

“Then we really have to get out of here,” Charlotte said, following him. “I'm hungry, but not for broccoli.”

The two of them crept up the hall to the eighth door. Carved on the front was a picture of an eagle carrying a fish. Tobias grabbed the doorknob but didn't turn it.

“What're you waiting for?” Charlotte asked.

“I don't know.”

Beneath the low light of the hallway, Tobias smiled and then slowly twisted the doorknob.

 

CHAPTER 9

D
OOR
N
UMBER
N
INE

Opening things can be quite interesting—you never know for sure what you might find. If you open a refrigerator, you often find food, but you also might find disappointment and mold. When you open a wallet, you might find money, or you might discover that you'll be skipping lunch. Opening a letter might bring you kind words from a loved one or maybe just another bill. But there's nothing quite as exciting as opening a door. The possibilities are endless.

Well, the eighth door in Weary Hall was locked, so the Eggers kids didn't find anything there. And the keyhole was filled in with some kind of glue. They momentarily considered returning to their room, but Charlotte suggested they try door number nine. Unlike number eight, it opened easily.

Tobias stuck his head in and looked around. “It's just a dark room.”

Charlotte nudged him forward.

“Hold on,” Tobias complained. “There's a light switch.”

Tobias flipped a switch on the wall. A large chandelier in the middle of the room popped as it came to life. The smell of burning ozone filled their nostrils.

“Ew,” Charlotte said.

The room was beautifully decorated. Ornate dressers and chairs clung to the walls. There was an empty fireplace against the back wall and two large windows covered with heavy shutters. The most impressive feature was a massive four-poster bed sitting directly under the chandelier. It was high off the floor and made of dark wood with gold inlay. The posts had purple curtains between them that were closed, making it impossible to see if anyone was occupying the bed. A ticking noise was coming from somewhere. Charlotte looked around, taking it all in. Her eyes settled on the bed.

“I bet that's more comfortable than our cots,” she whispered.

“No kidding,” Tobias whispered back. “Maybe that's why Orrin didn't want us to come in here. Now I've got bed envy.”

“Do you hear that clicking sound?”

Tobias crept nearer to the bed. The floor was blanketed with a thick white rug that covered everything but the edges of the room and made it look like winter. He glanced back at his sister and motioned for her to come. Tobias lifted his right foot and took a long step. He then stopped to listen. The clicking was a little louder and definitely coming from behind the curtains on the bed.

“Hello?” he said. “Is anybody in there?”

“Come on,” Charlotte said. “It's just a ticking bed.”

Tobias took three more steps and stopped. The closed purple curtains were now inches from his face. From behind the curtains, the clicking became louder.

As a rule, it's probably best not to touch or bother other people's things. As tempting as it can be at times, you'd be smart to not mess with your neighbor's car. There is wisdom in keeping your mitts off your friend's lunch. And people might label you a genius if they were to witness you keeping your hands to yourself while visiting a dynamite factory. Tobias, however, was not looking to be labeled a genius. For some reason, “do not touch” seemed more like an invitation to him than a warning. He lifted his right hand, grabbed one purple curtain, and tore it back.

“Ahhhhrrrrrap!”

Something blurry leapt up at him, screaming. It tackled him and sent him flying to the ground. The thing scratched and kicked as Tobias tried to shake off his surprise and fight back. Charlotte grabbed a book from one of the dressers and came running across the room, doing some screaming of her own. She hefted the book above her and threw it down against the attacker's head. The assailant hollered and rolled off Tobias, who scrambled to his feet and stood next to his sister. They both stared at the attacker as he whimpered like a baby on the floor.

“Thanks,” Tobias said, breathing hard.

“No problem,” Charlotte replied. “So who is it?”

Whoever he was wore old blue jeans and a puke-green sweater vest. He had long dark hair and untied shoes. After listening to him sob for a few more minutes, Tobias tried to reason with him.

“Honestly, she didn't hit you that hard.”

“It was just a book,” Charlotte said. “And not a particularly big one.”

The attacker stopped blubbering.

“Where's my cube?”

He got onto his knees and scurried across the floor toward the object that had flown out of his hands earlier. It was a Rubik's Cube that was nowhere near being solved. He reached the cube and picked it up, acting like it was the last jewel in a jewel-powered world. He instantly began to turn and shift the squares. The familiar clicking noise returned.

Tobias cleared his throat uncomfortably.

The attacker stood up and sat on the edge of his bed. He looked at Tobias and Charlotte and spoke, still playing with the cube.

“This is my room.”

“Sorry,” Tobias said. “We got lost.”

“Who are you?”

“I'm Tobias, and this is my sister, Charlotte. We've sorta been kidnapped.”

“How does someone get sorta kidnapped?”

“Well, our dad dropped us off here, but I don't think we're supposed to stay.”

“That's a new one.”

“What's a new one?” Tobias asked.

“You being from outside,” he replied. “Most of the things I make up in my head are from here in Witherwood.”

Tobias and Charlotte looked at each other.

“We're not made up,” Charlotte insisted.

“That's not new,” the boy said. “The things I make up always say that.”

“I hit you with a book,” Charlotte reminded him.

“My imagination's done worse,” he informed them. “I'm Fiddle, by the way. Of course it's not like you didn't already know that.”

“We didn't,” Tobias said, staring at him.

Fiddle seemed a couple years older than Tobias and smiled every time he talked. He had green eyes, and his long dark hair hung from his head like thin spaghetti. He wouldn't stop playing with the cube in his hand. He looked friendly in the way that some squirrels do. He also looked a little wild, much the way some other squirrels do.

“Your ears are different,” Fiddle told Charlotte. “Interesting.”

Charlotte pulled her hair forward.

“Why does your shirt say
hope
?”

It was a fair question. Charlotte seemed more likely to wear a shirt that read CONCERN or I WONDER; the word
hope
didn't fit. But Charlotte had been given the shirt a few years ago, and it brought her comfort. Not comfort in the sense that it was comfortable to wear; in fact, the shirt was too small. It was the kind of comfort that comes from a warm memory or a safe, quiet spot in a loud, hazardous world.

Fiddle stared at Charlotte for a few moments. When she didn't answer his question, he turned his gaze to Tobias. “So why are you in my room?”

“Shouldn't you know?” Tobias asked, still curious about being called imaginary. “If you made us up, we shouldn't be a surprise.”

“You're not,” Fiddle said. “I heard you call out, but I hear so many voices, I'm never sure who to believe.”

“Well, do you know where a phone is?” Tobias asked.

“What's that?”

“You don't know what a phone is?” Charlotte asked, confused. “You call people with it.”

Fiddle lay back on his bed and continued to fidget with the puzzle cube. “I don't know where one of those is.”

“So why do you have this nice room?” Charlotte asked. “Ours is awful.”