Class Trip II

by Bebe Faas Rice

  “Listen, Adam. We’ve got to get out of this place. And soon,” she said. “I think Becky needs help.”

  “I know. I realized that when we came in here this afternoon. But how are we going to do it? We can’t go anywhere until we get the van fixed, and the new fuel pump won’t get here until Tuesday morning.”

  Hallie groaned. “This is a nightmare. Tuesday is three days away. What are we going to do in the meantime?”

  A terrible thought struck her. “Adam . . . you don’t think Norman is lying about the van, do you? I mean, about it needing a new fuel pump?”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Something about Adam’s voice told Hallie that the thought had crossed his mind, too.

  “Didn’t you say the man who sold you the van said the fuel pump was brand new?”

  “Yes,” Adam said. “I thought he was a pretty straight guy, too. But how could it have gone bad so soon, unless . . . ?”

  “Unless it didn’t go bad,” Hallie finished for him.

  Adam looked at her grimly. “Those holes in the hoses, too. Hallie, those hoses were brand new—I had a couple of them put in a month ago. And I’m willing to swear they were okay when we first got here. I’d have noticed something was wrong with them all those times along the way when I checked the motor. What could have happened to them? I can’t believe that somebody—Norman—would punch holes in them. Do you think maybe they were faulty, and I just didn’t notice?”

  “No. I don’t know anything about cars, but I can’t remember seeing holes or anything leaking from those hoses, either,” Hallie told him. “Remember that last time we stopped? Before we came to the turnoff to Holyoake? I was watching over your shoulder when you were banging on the motor. If those hoses had holes in them, surely one of us would have noticed, wouldn’t we?”

  “But why?” asked Adam. “What would be the purpose of doing something like that?”

  “I don’t know,” Hallie admitted.

  Adam took a deep breath. “He sure seems eager to convince me—us—that everything under the hood is in bad shape, though. Do you think he’s been lying all along?”

  “Maybe. But if he’s trying to keep us here for some reason, why did he send Miss Netty to make a call for us? Surely he must have realized that Mr. Costello—and our folks—might come here to help us, once they found out where we were,” Hallie said.

  Adam hesitated, then finally said, “That’s another thing that worries me. How do we know he really got that message to our folks? I mean, we only have his word on it, the same way we have his word about the fuel pump. And the hoses.”

  Hallie felt her blood run cold.

  “Why would he do that, Adam? What possible motive could he have? He must know we’ll find out the truth when the phone lines are repaired.”

  Adam’s forehead puckered. “I don’t know, Hallie. This place is weird, and getting weirder. The fact is, those phone lines aren’t getting fixed. And what’s the big problem with them, anyway? The lines go down during storms at home, and the repair people get right out there and fix them within hours.”

  “You’re right,” Hallie agreed. “I haven’t even seen any repair workers. . . . Well, there was one this morning, but he disappeared right away. And I really couldn’t tell if he was fixing the lines or disconnecting them. It was weird.”

  She looked over her shoulder again, to make sure Mrs. Grigsby or Simon hadn’t come up undetected. But the foyer was empty. From out in the kitchen Hallie could hear voices. Mrs. Grigsby’s, high and lilting. Becky’s, a dull monotone.

  “I’m scared, Adam,” she whispered. “I haven’t wanted to admit it to myself until now, but I’m scared.”

  She paused, waiting for Adam to tell her she was being silly or overly imaginative. Instead, he looked at her soberly.

  “That church,” she told him. “It isn’t like any church I’ve ever seen. It looks like something out of an old witchcraft movie. I mean, thirteen chairs around that black table, Adam, like a witches’ coven!”

  Adam nodded. “I felt that way about those stone markers. All those young girls, and every last one of them died on May first.”

  “Beltane,” Hallie said slowly. “And the bonfire. Every stone marker had the engraving of a bonfire on it. And then the tattoos. Norman’s. Simon’s. Reverend Thoreson’s. I wonder how many other people in Holyoake have them.”

  Adam looked at her strangely. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it.

  “What is it, Adam?” Hallie demanded. “We can’t keep any secrets now.”

  “Okay, then,” Adam said. “I’ll say it.” He looked down at his hands. Hallie could see they were trembling slightly. “There’s at least one other tattoo around here that I know of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you see it?”

  Hallie shook her head, bewildered.

  “Mrs. Grigsby has one. Just like Norm’s and Simon’s. One with bones and a flame.”

  Chapter FOURTEEN

  The spinach soufflé that night was delicious. So was the pork roast and the oven-browned potatoes. It was the company that turned everything sour.

  Mrs. Grigsby was at her finest—blue eyes sparkling, little white curls dancing, talking way too much. Is this an effort to keep us from noticing the way Becky’s acting? Hallie wondered. Becky sat there like a ghost, staring straight ahead of her, answering questions in an awful, monotone voice.

  Adam stared at his plate, his freckles dark against his pale face. Adam, who usually never worried, never really saw anything to worry about. Who’d never looked pale in all the years Hallie had known him.

  Simon sat at his end of the table, aloof and silent, his head bowed. Hallie couldn’t help noticing his meticulous table manners—the deft, almost surgical way his long fingers cut his meat. The way he held his fork. His quick and efficient way of eating. Surely he must have felt the tension that hung like a thick black cloud over the dinner table.

  Every now and then he’d pause and glance up at Mrs. Grigsby, his dark eyes unreadable.

  Long ago Hallie had decided that dark eyes were more unreadable than light eyes. There was something masked about dark eyes—you couldn’t see into them. But looking into light eyes was like looking into a lake. You could always see what was swimming around beneath the surface.

  But Hallie realized now that she’d been wrong. Mrs. Grigsby’s blue eyes, open and sparkling, hid what she was thinking as effectively as a visor. Everything about Mrs. Grigsby, including her innocent wide eyes, was a fake.

  At the end of the meal, Mrs. Grigsby picked up her spoon and tapped playfully on her water glass. “Are you all paying attention? Becky has some good news.”

  Hallie felt her stomach tighten. “What kind of good news?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Tell them, Becky dear,” prompted Mrs. Grigsby.

  Becky only stared at her blankly, so Mrs. Grigsby said, gently reproving, “You know, dear. About the festival.”

  When Becky spoke, her smile was vacant and her voice flat and emotionless. “I’ve been picked to be the May Queen at the Beltane festival.”

  Mrs. Grigsby smiled broadly. “Isn’t that wonderful, children?”

  Hallie stared at Becky in dismay. Nothing, she thought, is as scary as Becky is right now. She’s like a puppet.

  “What do you mean, May Queen?” asked Adam.

  Becky only smiled.

  “Why, the one who presides over all the festival activities, of course,” said Mrs. Grigsby, answering for Becky. “It’s a real honor. And her an Outsider, too.”

  “But why Becky?” Hallie asked through tight lips. May Queen for that awful reenactment of the good old days when they burned maidens at the stake?

  “The girl who was supposed to be this year’s Queen got sick,” Mrs. Grigsby explained. “And Becky’s such a pretty girl, with all that lovely long red hair. At a special festival-committee meeting this morning, we unanimously voted to have her as our Queen
. Isn’t that lovely?”

  After dinner, when Mrs. Grigsby was in the kitchen cleaning up, and Simon had pulled yet another of his disappearing acts, Adam and Hallie took Becky aside.

  “Listen to me, Becky,” Hallie said, taking her friend by the shoulders and shaking her gently. “What’s happening to you? You’re acting so funny. Are you on something?”

  Becky only looked at her, innocent and wide-eyed. Just like Mrs. Grigsby, Hallie thought.

  “Why, Hallie,” Becky said in the monotone voice Hallie had come to hate. “Nothing’s the matter. Holyoake is such a lovely place. Being May Queen at the festival is a real honor. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going out to help Aunt Phoebe.”

  “Aunt Phoebe?” Hallie repeated when Becky had left the room.

  “Do you remember that old movie The Stepford Wives, Hallie?” Adam asked. “We saw it last year at the film festival. You know, about that town where the men all turn their wives into robots?”

  Hallie nodded.

  “Well,” Adam said, “do you suppose there really is a way of doing something like that?”

  Adam was so serious, so intense, that Hallie’s first impulse was to laugh. Adam, who didn’t believe in anything that couldn’t be explained by common sense. And then she thought, If Adam’s scared enough to think Becky’s been turned into a robot, then we’ve really got something to worry about.

  “No,” she said thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s as far out as that. I think Becky’s on something.”

  “Becky? She refuses to even look at cigarette ads!” Adam said.

  “I think it’s those herb teas Mrs. Grigsby’s been giving her. Who knows what’s in them?”

  Hallie put her hand on Adam’s shoulder. “That must be it! Did you see her eyes? They’re glassy, and her pupils are enlarged. But why is Mrs. Grigsby doing this?”

  “God, Hallie, I don’t know. I’d give anything to be a million miles away from this crummy place.”

  “We’ve got to keep Becky away from Mrs. Grigsby,” Hallie said. “How dumb can we get? We keep leaving her alone with that woman. I’m going in there right now and get Becky away.”

  Hallie managed to drag Becky upstairs, but Becky wasn’t able to get ready for bed by herself. She waited patiently for Hallie to find her nightie and help her into it.

  As Hallie gently removed Becky’s sweater, she saw something around her friend’s neck that made her feel dizzy and faint.

  A bronze amulet. An amulet with an engraved picture of a bonfire on it.

  Just like the tattoo on Simon’s wrist. And Norman’s. And Mrs. Grigsby’s.

  “Becky! Becky!” Hallie said, trying to rouse her friend from her torpor. “Where did you get this?”

  She held the amulet on its long cord up before Becky’s eyes. Becky only looked at it silently, blankly.

  “Look, Becky,” Hallie said desperately. “This . . . thing . . . you’re wearing around your neck. See?”

  Becky finally blinked and looked at the amulet with mild curiosity. She smiled faintly. “Pretty,” she said.

  “But where did you get it?” Hallie demanded, trying to keep her voice calm. “Think, Becky! Did Mrs. Grigsby give it to you?”

  Becky puckered her forehead. “I don’t know,” she finally replied, and no amount of questioning could make her remember.

  After she’d put Becky to bed, Hallie paced the floor in a frenzy of nerves, wanting desperately to tell Adam about the amulet. She walked over to the window and looked out, listening to Becky’s deep and even breathing. Becky always slept soundly—she wouldn’t wake up for hours. It was safe now to go to Adam.

  Just then a flicker of light on the far side of the Green caught her eye. There it was again, just like last night. Torches. The villagers were gathering again. Why? Hallie thought. Why do they keep meeting like this? What do they do in that old church?

  And does it have something to do with Becky?

  Chapter FIFTEEN

  Hallie remained frozen at the window.

  What are they doing? she asked herself again. Should Adam and she try to go over there and spy on them? Would they get caught?

  And would Simon be the one to catch them?

  Simon. She thought about him for a moment. What was it with him and his aunt? What did those looks he was giving her tonight mean? Mrs. Grigsby showed her disapproval of him in a hundred little ways. And Norman seemed to outright dislike him. Was there some secret about Simon? Is that what made him so hostile?

  Hallie looked at the church again and made her decision. She’d better go to Adam right now. Something terrible was happening over there, and the sooner they found out what it was, the better.

  The mental picture of the marble font with its blood-colored stains flashed before her eyes. Hallie shook her head to clear the thought. Closing the door softly behind her, she tiptoed over to Adam’s room and scratched lightly at his door.

  To her surprise he answered immediately. He was still dressed in jeans, sweatshirt, and running shoes.

  “I’m glad you came, Hallie,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about everything we saw today—I’m too wound up to go to bed.”

  “Remember what I told you about last night? About how all those people were in the church, dressed in white robes and carrying torches?” Hallie said.

  Adam nodded.

  “Well,” she went on breathlessly, “they’re at it again. I saw them from my window, and I’m scared, Adam. I have this terrible feeling that what they’re doing has something to do with us.”

  “You wait here, Hallie, and I’ll sneak over and take a look.”

  “No! I want to go with you.”

  “What about Becky?” Adam asked. “Will she be okay?”

  “She’s fast asleep,” Hallie replied. “Come on, Adam. We’re only wasting time.”

  Adam picked up a small flashlight from his nightstand, and together they left the room and slipped quietly down the steps.

  There was no one waiting at the bottom of the stairs, no one looming up suddenly from the darkness to stop them. Hallie released the anxious breath she’d been holding.

  “I hope the front door doesn’t squeak,” Adam whispered.

  He carefully turned the handle and opened the door . . . slowly.

  And came face-to-face with Simon.

  Simon was standing on the front porch. Hallie could see his face clearly in the light from the full moon. She caught her breath in surprise—this was an altogether different Simon. The black, glowering look was gone. His face was pale and anxious. He even looked younger, Hallie noticed. Younger and more vulnerable.

  And scared.

  Simon cast a quick look over his shoulder and shoved Hallie and Adam back into the hall.

  “Shhh,” he cautioned, his finger on his lips. “Get back inside. Quick!”

  “What are you doing here?” Hallie whispered indignantly.

  “Don’t start with me, Hallie,” Simon said. “We don’t have time. I’m on your side.”

  “On our side?” Hallie’s voice rose to a squeak. “Since when?”

  He put his hand over her mouth. This time it was gentle, a warning that she was making too much noise.

  “Aunt Phoebe is over at the church,” he explained in a low voice. “I was supposed to keep an eye on the three of you. We only have an hour, and we need to talk.”

  He removed his hand from her mouth. “Where’s the best place, Adam’s room?”

  Hallie nodded.

  Adam led the way upstairs. Simon brought up the rear, still casting anxious glances over his shoulder. Hallie glanced in at Becky, who was sleeping soundly.

  “Wait, don’t turn on the light yet,” Simon cautioned.

  He went over to the window and closed the blinds while Hallie and Adam perched apprehensively on the edge of the bed. Then he snapped on the night-light that stood on the bureau.

  “You’ve got to get out of town,” he said. “Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Adam repeated.
“Why?”

  Simon glanced at the window, then moved to the center of the room. Hallie wondered if he was afraid his shadow would show on the blind.

  Is someone out there, watching?

  “Maybe I ought to explain the situation you’ve blundered into,” Simon told them. “It sounds crazy, but you’ve got to believe me if you want to get out of Holyoake alive.”

  Alive? Hallie’s mouth went dry and she began to tremble. So she’d been right all along—there was some terrible secret concerning Holyoake!

  Adam tensed. “Get out alive?” he asked quietly. “It sounds like you’ve got some real explaining to do.”

  Simon nodded. “I’ll try to make it brief.”

  He pulled out the desk chair and straddled it. “It’s true what Aunt Phoebe told you—about how the earliest settlers came here so they could practice their religion in peace,” he began. “But what she didn’t tell you was that their religion was a primitive form of paganism, a holdover from earliest times. And that they believed—and still believe today—in human sacrifice.”

  “Human sacrifice!” Adam gasped.

  Hallie put her hands to her mouth. “This can’t be true,” she whispered.

  “It is true. And I’m sure you believe me, even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself.”

  “What kind of human sacrifice?” Adam said. “That stake out on the Green, in the middle of the bonfire . . . that doesn’t . . . I mean, they’re going to burn a straw figure, they said.”

  “Do you really think they’re going to come right out and tell you their plans?” Simon said. “They intend to use Becky as the Beltane sacrifice!”

  “Becky? But—” Hallie began.

  “You’re crazy!” Adam blurted out.

  Simon raised his hands to silence them.

  “Look,” he said. “We don’t have time for all this. Aunt Phoebe might come home early, and we’ve got some planning to do. There’s a way out of this mess, and that’s what I want to talk to you about.”