Story Time (16 page)

William dried his eyes. He sniffled. "Be prepared. That could be our motto. You know? That was our motto in Scouts:
Semper Paratus.
Be Prepared."

"Actually," George said, "that would translate as Always Prepared.'"

William got flustered. "Would it? I had to quit Scouts to be on the Cram Crew. I might have got it wrong."

"Don't worry about it. Heads up though, William. Here come your parents."

The four kids watched Mr. and Mrs. Anderson come back down the street. Mrs. Anderson called out, "Kate Peters? We've been talking about you since we left. Are you any relation to June and Charley Peters?"

Kate gulped. "Yes, I am. They're my parents."

Mrs. Anderson turned to her husband with an "I told you so" look. "We were just saying, 'What ever happened to June and Charley Peters?' They used to be involved in everything."

Kate felt like she wanted to run. Or burst into tears.

Then George spoke up. "They are now divorced. Charley's gone. He's in Asia. And June is not feeling too well."

Mr. and Mrs. Anderson squirmed on the sidewalk. Neither said a thing until Mr. Anderson called over to his son, "Come on, William. We have to get home and unpack."

William left the porch obediently, and the three Andersons retreated down the street.

Molly's parents pulled up to the curb one minute later. Molly stuffed her flute case and the scrapbook into her canvas bag. She pointed to the diary and told Kate, "We have to do this again. Soon."

Kate swallowed hard, still unable to speak. She did manage to nod.

Molly got up. "Okay, you guys.
Semper Apparatus...
Or whatever it was."

George supplied the right word: "
Paratus.
"

"Yeah. Whatever. Bye."

Molly drove away with her parents. George waited five minutes before he asked, "Kate? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?" she told him, defiantly.

George waited. The night grew darker and colder before he said, "We didn't get to talk about the real cool stuff, you know? What with the interruptions." Kate didn't reply. "Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?"

Kate leaned back against the porch railing. "Yeah. Sure. Why wouldn't I?"

George straddled the center railing. "What do you think happened to Walter Barnes?"

Kate finally looked at him. "I don't think that was Walter Barnes. I believe something else took over his body. Something that wasn't human."

George raised one eyebrow. "Come on, Kate. Be logical."

"I believe Walter Barnes was possessed. By a demon."

"That's impossible."

"No, it's not. Lots of people believe in demons."

"Lots of people are stupid."

"What's so stupid about it? There are things in life that you do not understand, Uncle George. If you don't know that, then you're not as smart as you think."

George accepted the rebuke. "Okay. I do know that. But I know this, too: Scientists are able to prove the existence of human-type beings going back more than one hundred and sixty thousand years. They can prove the existence of subatomic particles that only appear for a fraction of a fraction of a millisecond. They can prove that nitrogen is the dominant gas in the atmosphere of Pluto. But all the scientists who ever lived, with all the equipment that was ever invented, still have not been able to prove the existence of one Bigfoot or one Loch Ness Monster, or one supernatural demon anywhere in the world at any time."

George looked at Kate. She seemed checkmated into silence by his cold, scientific analysis. So he added, "Still, that clearly was not the Walter Barnes that we all knew and loved."

The low thrum of clogging on the back porch stopped abruptly. Kate got up and started inside. She told George wearily, "Whatever. You can think what you want. Good night."

George hopped over the railing and followed Kate in through the vestibule. "Okay. Okay. Even though it's impossible, let's say that he was ... that he was possessed by some supernatural demonlike creature. That raises some new questions, like: How did this demon thing enter the body of Walter Barnes? And, did it leave Walter Barnes when he died? And, if it did leave, where did it go?"

Kate smiled devilishly. "Why don't you go back to your room and sleep on that?"

George looked terrified. "I'd rather not." He followed Kate into the kitchen. She rummaged through a cabinet until she found an old metal thermos with a blue top. She held it up. "I'm bringing an empty thermos, every day, hidden in my backpack. From now on, my Mrs. Hodges protein shakes get dumped right in here."

"Good idea."

George followed Kate up to the landing. There, he hung around surfing the Internet while Kate got ready for bed. He clicked through websites devoted to nineteenth-century London, spiritualism, and antiquarian books. When he heard Kate behind him, he asked, "Would you mind if I slept over here? The floor would be fine."

"Why? Are you afraid of Bigfoot? Or the Loch Ness Monster? Or, maybe, demons?"

George gulped. "I'm not afraid of the first two. And I don't believe in demons. Not at all. But," he finally admitted, "I am a little afraid of the
possibility
of demons. But only a little. And only at night."

He turned around to see that Kate was already standing in the doorway holding out a sleeping bag and an extra pillow.

On the Monday morning following Walter Barnes's bizarre performance, Dr. Austin called all students, teachers, and staff of the Whittaker Magnet School to an assembly in the lobby. Kate slipped away from her classmates and found George. They sat together in the back row, staring around curiously, as Dr. Austin emerged from the elevator.

Kate whispered, "Do you think this is about Walter Barnes?"

"It has to be. Parents were there and saw it, right? He can't just say that it never happened."

Dr. Austin stood at attention before the student body, examining faces at random. "Just as our cherished Whittaker Magnet School is preparing to fulfill its destiny and to step onto the national stage, this happens." He shook his head sadly. "A terrible tragedy. One of our staff, and a trusted member of the Whittaker team, has, unfortunately, let that team down. I'm sure that some of you have heard crazy rumors about Walter Barnes during Friday's Story Time. I am here to assure you that they are nothing more than that. Crazy rumors.

"There is even a rumor that Mr. Barnes is dead. Well, let me assure you, I just spoke to him moments ago. I inquired about his health; he told me he was fine. Then I informed him that he was fired.

"Walter Barnes is not dead. Walter Barnes, I am sorry to say, was merely dead drunk. That is what caused his erratic behavior. We hope that your parents will rest assured that he has been removed permanently and that nothing of this kind shall ever happen again. They have my solemn promise on that."

Dr. Austin raised one hand like he was being sworn in. "To keep that solemn promise, I must have your help. I cannot do this alone. I want you to report anything out of the ordinary directly to me. In fact, for every report of unusual, abnormal, or aberrant behavior, you will receive ten additional bonus points on any test of your choosing. Now, you may all go back to your classes."

***

William Anderson caught up to Kate on the stairwell. He whispered to her, "So ... what did you think of that?"

She answered for anyone to hear, "I didn't believe a word of it. It was a Story Time. Without phonics."

"Huh?"

"It was a story, William. Now Dr. Austin expects us to go home and repeat that story to our parents. But don't you do it."

William's face reflected his struggle to understand. He whispered, "Okay, Kate. I won't tell my parents. Not about this, not about that other stuff, not about anything."

"Good.
Semper Paratus.
"

On Wednesday, while Kate and George worked their after-school jobs in the lobby, a black Lincoln Town Car pulled up to the front doors. The car was unmarked, but it carried
U.S. GOVERNMENT
plates on the front and back.

The first person to step out of the car wore a laminated identification badge on his suit's breast pocket. It said
MCCOY, JAMES
j. in large letters, followed by
AGENT IN CHARGE
in small letters. He walked briskly toward the Whittaker Building, looking neither left nor right.

The second person out wore a similar badge attached to the pocket of his checked sports coat. It said
PFLAUM, JONATHAN P.,
AGENT
. He struggled to drag a large weaponlike device out of the car with him. It looked like a long metal version of a Super Soaker squirt gun.

The third person to emerge wore no security badge. She was tall and muscular, a chiseled bodybuilder, with short cropped hair. She had extraordinarily healthy-looking skin, dark brown, close to the color of the silk shirt she wore beneath a two-piece ivory suit.

She did look left, right, and upward, taking in the Story Time poster, the
Id pendemus
motto, and the beginnings of the lurid
Andrew Carnegie in Hell
mosaic.

She stopped to read a memo taped to the glass doors and repeated the words aloud, in TV anchorwoman English: "'This week's essay topic: Why the President Should Appoint Dr. Austin to His Commission on Teacher Accountability."'

She took out a small electronic device—a thin, handheld computer with advanced communications capabilities—called the WebWizard X, and scanned in the poster and the memo.

Susan Singer-Wright and Cornelia Whittaker-Austin, wearing purple name tags with yellow lettering, had positioned themselves in the lobby next to a high-piled
TBC
book display.

Kate and George had positioned themselves just behind them, on the other side of the display, where they remained effectively invisible to the women.

Cornelia called out to the agents as they approached, "Welcome to the building that my grandfather Cornell Whittaker Number One built as a monument of granite and steel, and that my father, Cornell Whittaker Number Two, built as a monument of great books. Now my husband, Dr. J. Kendall Austin, is—"

James J. McCoy, the agent in charge, interrupted her. "Excuse me, ma'am. We have specific objectives and a limited timetable today."

Cornelia finished her thought, anyway. "—building it as a monument of educational excellence."

Agent McCoy addressed his subordinate. "Agent Pflaum, get to work from the basement up. I'll work from the roof down."

Agent Pflaum nodded and lugged his large weapon with him toward the stairwell.

McCoy himself took off toward Elevator #2, unfolding a set of blueprints of the Whittaker Building as he walked.

George took a quick look at the clock and whispered, "I can't stay any longer." He hurried off to meet the Juku Warriors in the County Commission Room. But Kate had no intention of leaving. She bent lower, pretending to straighten the
TBC
book display.

Cornelia said, "I will make a brief statement to the First Lady's chief of staff. Then I will excuse myself and proceed upstairs to my husband's office. You delay her for five minutes to build up anticipation for meeting Dr. Austin."

The woman in the ivory suit approached Susan and extended her right hand. "I am Rosetta Turner, the First Lady's chief of staff."

"You sure are!" Susan gushed. "I recognize you from the TV. I am Susan Singer-Wright, the chair of the King's County Commission."

Cornelia reached out, grabbed the hand, and pumped it. "I am Cornelia Whittaker-Austin, of the King's County Whittakers, who built the building that she sits in and the chair that she sits on."

Rosetta Turner took her right hand back and massaged it with her left. "I see."

"Now you must excuse me," Cornelia told her. "I have to go upstairs to help the doctor." Rosetta and Susan watched her stomp away toward Elevator #2.

Before Susan could engage her in small talk, though, she and Rosetta heard a loud clattering. Bud Wright had entered through the glass doors and was rolling a power washer, complete with attachments, toward them.

Susan gushed again. "Oh! There's my husband!" She waited for Bud to roll up to them and park the power washer. "Bud! This is Rosetta Turner, the First Lady's chief of staff!"

Bud wiped his hands on his pants. Rosetta shook hands with him as briefly as possible.

"I am pleased to meet such a high representative of the U.S. government, ma'am. I am Bud Wright, the owner of Bud Wright's Swim-with-a-Dolphin Aquatic Park, and I need to talk to somebody about the government's regulation of orcas. The Japanese are willing to sell me an orca, so the U.S. government just needs to get out of the way."

Rosetta interrupted him. "Excuse me, but are you talking about fish?"

Bud blinked rapidly. "Yes, ma'am."

"Well, do I look like someone who is even remotely connected to the subject of fish?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then please stop." She turned to Susan. "Where's the doctor?"

Susan smiled, puzzled. "Who?"

"The one who wants to get on the presidential commission."

"Oh. That would be Dr. Austin. He can't meet with you this very minute. He can, though, meet with you in five minutes." Susan dared to take Rosetta by the elbow of her ivory suit. "In the meantime, would you like a little peek at our school?"

She guided Rosetta toward the basement stairwell, prompting the First Lady's chief of staff to ask, "The school is down here?"

"Yes, ma'am. The Whittaker Magnet School. The number-one standardized testing school in the United States."

Bud spotted Kate by the bookcase. He said, "What are you doing there, little girl?"

Kate gulped and prepared to speak, but Bud beat her to it. "Come give me a hand. We got us a ceiling to clean. Grab that roll of plastic."

Kate followed Bud to the doorway, where she saw a fat, cylindrical roll of plastic sheeting. She hefted it onto her shoulder and set off dutifully behind him.