The Hayloft: a 1950s Mystery (2 page)

“I hope that doesn’t reflect your true
feelings about school.”

“It’s the best I can do on short notice.”

His smile disappeared. “You and I need to
agree on a few things.”

I was ready to agree to anything, even to
polishing his glasses each morning.

“I’d like you to not write for the school
paper.”

I nodded.

“Some of our students write up school events
for the Carter Press, our local town paper. You’d probably better
stay away from that, too.”

I continued to nod.

“Concentrate on your studies.”

“I-I plan to keep a low profile,” I
stammered. Lower than the bellybutton of a snake.

“Good idea. That doesn’t mean you can’t
participate in some extra-curricular activities. I hear you play
basketball.”

He knew my life story. I had played for
Atherton last year in the game against Carter. Atherton had beaten
Carter, and I had played well. Surely he didn’t remember me.

“The team can use you. A couple of our key
players graduated. And, of course, Ralph Harrison was on the team.
Ralph was your cousin, wasn’t he?

“First cousin.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to Ralph. Do
you play any other sports?”

“I play tennis.”

“I play tennis. Maybe we can play
sometime.”

I couldn’t picture that. I hadn’t been
buddy-buddy with the school administration at Atherton. Although,
perhaps if I had, I wouldn’t be here now.

“I liked Ralph,” Dr. Graves said. “He was a
good student and a good athlete. If you do as well as he did, you
shouldn’t have any problems.”

If Ralph were still at Carter, I wouldn’t
consider it so much of a tragedy to enroll here. Maybe Dr. Graves
knew something about Ralph’s death that I didn’t know. “I never
heard the full story about how he died.”

“There’s not much of a story. He fell off the
balcony in the auditorium.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“Well, you know how teenage boys are, Gary.
They do stupid things. Ralph was probably doing something
stupid.”

“Ralph wasn’t stupid.” And a principal
shouldn’t talk like that about his students.

“I’m not questioning his brains, only his
judgment. In the first place, he shouldn’t have been on the balcony
all alone when he was supposed to be in class.”

“Why do you think he was all alone?”

“Because he was. Mr. White, the janitor who
found him, said nobody else was there. The police said the evidence
pointed to him being alone.”

“But couldn’t somebody have been with him and
left—?”

“As to why you are here,” Dr. Graves said,
interrupting me, “that’s strictly between you and me. It won’t get
beyond this room unless you let it.”

I gathered that the discussion about Ralph
was over. And that if I wanted to be admitted to Carter, I had
better not bring it up again. “Thank-you.”

“There’s one more thing.”

I tensed. Here it comes, I thought.

“I need you to do something for me.”

Dr. Graves took off his glasses and looked
hard at me. I returned the look, trying not to squirm.

He said, “None of what I’m about to say goes
beyond this room. Just like the story of why you’re here. Swear you
won’t breathe a word to anyone.”

I nodded, dumbly.

“I want to hear you say it.”

What were we talking about, military secrets?
“I swear I won’t say anything.”

“Good.” He placed his elbows on the desk and
leaned forward toward me. “Have you heard of the House Un-American
Activities Committee?”

If you listened to the radio, you couldn’t
avoid hearing about HUAC. But I tried to ignore it. What happened
in Washington wasn’t high on my radar screen. “Yeah.”

“To refresh your memory, there are dangerous
people living in this country. People who are intent on selling us
out to countries like the USSR. HUAC investigates them.”

“Communists,” I said, wanting to appear
intelligent.

“That’s right, communists. You never know
where they might be. They can be anywhere.”

“Even here in Carter?” I asked, beginning to
get his drift.

“Even here in Carter. I have asked one of our
student leaders, Sylvia Doran, to show you around the school and
help you get acclimated. She’s president of the student council and
knows everybody. What I want you to do is to report to me anything
she says of a suspicious nature.”

I was flabbergasted. “Do you think she’s a
communist?”

“No, but her father might be. I particularly
would like to know anything she says about him.”

“But…that makes me a spy.”

Dr. Graves smiled. “Nothing as serious as
that. I just need to get a little information, that’s all.”

“Who wants this information?”

The smile vanished. “Don’t ask too many
questions. Remember, we’re dealing with the security of the United
States. It’s the job of every loyal American to step up to the
plate and do his part.”

I gulped and said, “I don’t think I can do
it.”

Dr. Graves scowled. “Yes, you can. Because if
you don’t, I don’t think I can admit you to Carter High
School.”

He started to tap his pencil again. I slumped
in my chair. So this was the catch. Somehow, I had known there was
one. How could I face my father if I were thrown out of two high
schools within a week?

“All right,” I said, gritting my teeth, “I’ll
do it. What do you want me—?”

“Excellent. Use your own judgment as to what
to report. Anything subversive to the country—or the school. You’re
a smart boy. And remember—talk only to me about this. Nobody
else.”

I heard quick footsteps approaching from
behind. Dr. Graves looked past me toward the door to the
office.

“Sylvia,” he said. “You’re just in time.”

“Good morning, Dr. G.”

A girl swished into the room so fast that I
expected to feel the air from her wind stream.

“Sylvia,” Dr. Graves said, “I’d like you to
meet a new student, Gary Blanchard. He’s a senior transfer from
Atherton. Gary, this is Sylvia Doran.”

Sylvia turned and held out her hand to me,
saying, “Welcome aboard, Gary.”

I belatedly stood up and shook her hand. I
wasn’t used to shaking hands with girls, any more than I was with
principals. I mumbled something in return.

“Sylvia will show you around,” Dr. Graves
said to me. And to Sylvia, “I told him that you’re president of the
student council and know everybody.”

“At least, everybody who’s worth knowing,”
she said with a grin. “Come on, Gary, let’s blow this joint before
the bell rings for first period. I know a place we can hide out
until the stampede is over.”

“Have him back here at the end of first
period,” Dr. Graves said. “He needs to meet with Miss Thoman to get
his classes set up. And I expect you to attend some classes today,
too, young lady.”

Sylvia turned and waved at Dr. Graves as we
left his office, saying, “Don’t worry. I have everything under
control.”

I thought I heard him say, “That’s what I’m
afraid of,” as we went through the doorway from the administration
area into the hallway.

“Don’t you have to go to class?” That was
just one of many questions I wanted to ask this perky blond who was
whisking me down an endless corridor with brand new lockers on
either wall toward destinations unknown. The air had a fresh, clean
scent to it, unlike the vague smell of mildew at Atherton, which
was a much older school.

Sylvia was wearing a long, straight skirt, a
loose sweater, bobby sox, and saddle shoes, and her hair was short.
Meaning that she looked a lot like many other girls I knew, except
that she was cuter and shorter than most of them, a petite dynamo.
But she walked so fast that I had to strain to keep up with her,
and my legs were a lot longer than hers.

The bell had just rung, and students poured
out of the cafeteria as we passed the entrance. It must be acting
as a homeroom, but I knew it was the cafeteria because I could see
the tables set against the walls and because Sylvia gestured toward
it and said the word, “Cafeteria,” as we flew by. From the sizes of
the kids and the fact that many of them said hello to her, I
gathered they were seniors. She greeted some of them and in an
aside to me said, “I’ll introduce you to the people you need to
know later.”

We got clear of the throng and turned down
another corridor. Sylvia pointed out the entrances to the boys’ and
girls’ locker rooms. We continued to the end of this corridor and
into a foyer where multiple doors lined one wall, as if for an
auditorium entrance. Sylvia opened one of the doors and went
through the opening into the dark. I followed her and was
immediately blinded, but after a few seconds, I could see that this
was indeed the auditorium.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sylvia asked. “It’s got
a balcony and everything. The school’s only a year old.”

“You’re lucky. Atherton High is pretty
ancient.”

“Well, now you’re lucky, too. But there’s one
bad thing about this auditorium.” She pointed up at the balcony.
“Last year a student fell from there. He was killed.”

My cousin, Ralph. So this was the place where
he had met his death. I shuddered but tried to hide it. I said,
“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah. Ralph was a nice boy. Everybody liked
him. He broke one of the seats in the middle there when he fell.
It’s been fixed.” Her mood brightened. “Come on.”

Sylvia plunged down the aisle in the dark. I
wondered whether we were supposed to be here. I didn’t want to get
into trouble on my first day. And I didn’t want to upset my parents
any more than they were upset already. When we got to the stage,
instead of stopping, she placed her hands on it and, with an
athletic move, she vaulted up onto it.

This so took me by surprise that I didn’t
even look to see how much leg she exposed. I consoled myself with
the thought that it was too dark to see, anyway. I made it onto the
stage as Sylvia went into one of the wings where it was even
darker. Then suddenly the whole stage became visible.

“Let there be light,” Sylvia said, standing
beside a switchbox. And then, gesturing, “We even have dressing
rooms of sorts.”

She led me into one of the small rooms. It
wasn’t bad. It featured mirrors outlined with lights. She sat on
one of the chairs and motioned for me to sit on another.

“I have some questions to ask you,” she
said.

She had some questions to ask me. That was a
laugh. “Don’t you have to go to class?” I asked for the second
time.

“Oh, I have history first period. It’s
usually pretty boring. I can read about it later.” She dismissed
history with a wave of her hand. “But let’s talk about you. Why did
you transfer here just two weeks into the school year? Did you
move?”

I should have rehearsed the answer to that
question more. I hesitated, and then managed to say, “Well, I
didn’t exactly move. I’m staying with my aunt and uncle.
My…father’s sick, and my mother’s spending most of her time taking
care of him.” It wasn’t a very good lie, but I hoped it would
satisfy her.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope…I hope he
gets well soon.”

I accepted her sympathy as gracefully as I
could, since I had obtained it under false pretences. At least, it
had sidetracked her from asking the name of my aunt and uncle.
Thankfully, they had a different last name from mine. I wasn’t
emotionally ready to acknowledge a relationship to Ralph yet.

She asked more questions and ascertained that
I played basketball. She looked at me and exclaimed, “I remember
you from the Carter-Atherton game last year. You were the reason we
lost. You killed us.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far…”

“Don’t be modest. I was right beside the
court and saw the whole thing. You never missed a shot. I’m glad
you’re on our side now.”

One reason I had enjoyed the victory was
because Ralph had been playing for Carter. I had finally beaten him
at something.

I said, “Thanks. Are you a cheerleader?”

“Was. I retired at the end of last year. It
takes too much time.”

“I remember you.” It was the diplomatic thing
to say. And I was nothing if not a diplomat. Well, at least I was
practicing to be one.

“You don’t have to say that just to make me
feel good.”

“No, I do. I guess being student council
president must take a lot of time.”

“You know, Gary, that’s mostly an honorary
position. We attend a lot of meetings, but we don’t actually do
very much except to rubberstamp what Dr. Graves wants. It’s what
goes on behind the scenes that I’m interested in.”

I wanted to ask her more about this behind
the scenes stuff. Maybe I’d find out something to report to Dr.
Graves. A wave of nausea swept through me. I was a fink. The most
contemptible kind of person. But I had to do it if I wanted to stay
here at Carter. Before I could think of a leading question, Sylvia
changed the subject.

As we talked about other things, I remembered
the Carter-Atherton game and especially the Carter cheerleaders.
Because one of them—not Sylvia—had been the most beautiful girl I
had ever seen in my short life. She had made it difficult for me to
concentrate on the game, and it had been fortunate that we had
outclassed Carter, which was the real reason we had won. I wondered
if that girl was still in school or whether she had graduated. I
had an urge to ask Sylvia about her but stopped myself as I
realized how uncool that would be.

Sylvia looked at her watch and said, “I want
to show you around the school a little. I promised to get you back
to the office by second period. And I need to go to my second
period class today. We’re having a pop quiz.”

I wondered how she knew about the quiz.
Wasn’t a pop quiz supposed to be a surprise? She turned off the
lights. I jumped down from the stage and turned to help her, but
she was too quick for me and jumped down on her own. We exited the
auditorium and headed along the corridor.