The Wisherman

by Danielle

  The cornfield met Oliver like an old enemy, and as soon as he realized where he was, he started running. He heard the flapping of crow wings behind him and he tried to quicken his pace only to realize that he was running slower than ever. The crows swarmed him, circling high in the sky before pummeling him with their beaks. One crow opened his mouth, and instead of the high pitched caw, a sob came out. Then, another crow opened his mouth, adding a high pitched wail. Then one by one every single crow open his mouth, creating a chorus of the most horrific and painful sounds Oliver had ever heard in his life. It sounded like death and Oliver crouched on the ground and covered his ears with his hands, but it was no use. It was if the sounds weren’t coming from the crows, but instead from Oliver himself.

  Suddenly, a barrage of loud noise drifted into the room, sending Oliver flying from his dream and towards the door in a flurry of curiosity and confusion. He rushed out into the hallway and made his way towards a crowd of boys clustered in the study room. As Oliver neared, he wiped his eyes again in sheer disbelief. Before him, on the study hall glass, was a giant, graffiti drawing of Dean Tenbrook with devil horns and a tail. Dean Tenbrook’s figure was done in all black, and the devil horns in bright, bright red. Noticing several boys pointing at the bottom of the drawing, Oliver grew closer. At the very bottom, in tiny cursive letters, where an artist’s signature would go on a painting, were the words “The Disciples”.

  Heels clacked across the wooden floor, and suddenly the crowd parted faster than seemed humanly possible. Matron Charlie walked down the row of boys, taking a long look at each one, her face unreadable. Upon making her way to the end of the line, she stood in front of the portrait, back turned to the boys for a long time. When she finally turned, Oliver felt his breath catch in his throat. Her eyes had narrowed to nearly invisible slits and her lips were pursed.

  “Who is responsible for this?” Not a single boy moved or breathed, it felt like. And more importantly, not a single boy looked Matron Charlie in the eye. “You have twenty four hours to slip a name under my door, anonymously. Otherwise, you will all be punished. Everyone back to your rooms. Now.” Matron Charlie sent one last hard look towards the boys, sending everyone scattering back towards their rooms, before clacking away with speed that betrayed her calm demeanor.

  Oliver awoke the following morning and realized with a start that Robert had not returned yet. His bed was in the exact same state---half made---as it had been when he’d left. The cup of tea Robert made every night before bed sat on his nightstand, long cold.

  Oliver threw on his clothes and hurried down to the dining hall. He turned the corner, half hoping that Robert would be there as usual, nursing his morning coffee. But his spot remained dreadfully empty, and it was in this moment that Oliver truly became afraid. He passed by the breakfast line, having no mind for food at the moment, and joined the table.

  Malachi poked at a bowl of oatmeal with his spoon, while Alex kept glancing behind him, fingers crossed. “They’re putting out the new eggs in ten minutes. I asked.” Malachi noted, staring directly into his bowl.

  “Guys.” Oliver said, his voice low and urgent. Owen looked up from his bowl of cereal. “They took Robert.” Malachi’s spoon clattered into his bowl, and Gabriel grabbed his hand and gestured slowly and discreetly at the balcony above.

  “How, why?” Malachi spluttered. Oliver sighed and recounted the entire story.

  “They stripped searched you?” Gabriel looked appalled.

  “Did they, you?” Oliver asked.

  Gabriel shook his head. “It’s safe.”

  “But Robert’s not.” Oliver swallowed painfully. He could only imagine how afraid Robert was. He didn’t exactly handle stress with grace.

  “And the sabotage. We told everyone to stop. Who didn’t get the memo?” Alex said, irritated. Oliver looked around cafeteria. Every table was full, and nothing was amiss.

  “We could just slip her a name, Oliver. Pick somebody.” Malachi said. Oliver shrank back in response.

  “Guys. We have no idea who did this. We don’t want to frame anybody for something they didn’t do.”

  “So what’s going to happen to Robert?” Malachi countered.

  Oliver swallowed again, and his throat felt like he had just downed a cup of extremely hot coffee. “Maybe they just wanted to talk to him.”

  “What if he cracks?” Gabriel leaned forward. “You know he might.”

  Oliver suddenly felt defensive. “He would never rat us out. We’re his friends.” He looked around the table, silently daring anyone to deny that.

  Owen coughed. “It’s not safe for us here, anymore. We have to start going.”

  “When?” Gabriel asked.

  “We’ll need a distraction. The right opportunity.”

  “How?”

  Owen shook his head. “I don’t know. But we have to be ready.”

  Chapter 11

  “That’s right. I want every inch of this place scrubbed and clean.” A pair of black kitten heels stared Oliver directly in the face as he scrubbed the bottom of the study room glass with a tiny sponge.

  “But we already cleaned it.” A weak voice rose from somewhere among the bent backs.

  “Oh? Are you saying you’re done here?”

  “Well…” The boy responded, his voice sounding even smaller than it did the first time. Oliver was certain that whomever was speaking wished they could simply disappear.

  “Well, since you’re done here, let’s move on. The whole building is dirty, and we’ve got all night.” Charlie’s voice was sharp and smug, and as she clacked away, a chorus of groans rose from the crowd, only to be silenced by a “Quiet!” from down the hall.

  When Oliver got back to his room, he cringed at the sight of his hands which were swollen and stiff at the knuckles. Seconds later, Malachi blew in.

  “They did it again!” Everyone charged out into the hallway, and hurried towards the glass study room. In the exact spot previously home to the devil drawing was a large black X. The dorm spent the remainder of the short night cleaning the X, and anything else Matron Charlie found necessary. Her temper had a hairpin trigger now, and Oliver kept his head down. A boy from the second floor that Oliver did not know complained to him that they needed a sentry as they scrubbed walls side by side. “Because the vandalism was out of control….” He said, haughtily. Oliver nodded. He had no earthly idea just how true his words were.

  The first week of classes after Thanksgiving Break marked a drastic change in morale. Several days had passed since Robert had last been seen, and Oliver’s mood sunk lower and lower as he realized that something terrible must have happened. If felt as if a large rain cloud had taken up residence above every student’s head. Every meal was taken nearly silently, as if Robert had taken with him not just himself, but the joy of the entire group. Occasionally, Alex would ask for the salt and pepper. Owen would give it to him, and then both would turn back to their plates as if they didn’t know one another. With every room check and search, his classmates grew more and more silent. It was if they were all waiting for his word, and he desperately wished that he had something to tell them.

  December 7th was Oliver’s fifteenth birthday. He woke on that day feeling particularly sorry for himself. He imagined that it was a reflex of sorts. His birthdays never were cause for fanfare, and this year was no exception, he thought, as he gazed upon Robert’s made bed. Matron Charlie forced him to make it during room check, and as he did, he’d had the morbid thought that he was preparing a death bed of sorts.

  Oliver arrived at breakfast to a dismal scene. Alex was reading the newspaper, and Gabriel stirred milk into his coffee at a painstakingly slow pace. He joined the table, and not a single head turned.

  “It’s my birthday today.” Oliver said, quietly. He wanted to tell someone, because then maybe it would become worth remembering. Gabriel nodded slightly, although Oliver couldn’t tell whether he was nodding off into his coffee or nodding from recognition. Malachi ruffl
ed the paper he was reading. Oliver stared down at his plate full of eggs. They were too runny and too yellow and sad, just like everything else. He wondered, with a sudden burst of intellectual clarity, if this was the true punishment. If scrubbing floors was simply the distraction, and the real punishment for daring to speak up and out was this. The slow, oppressive sleepy sadness that approached slowly, and hid in plain sight. It was hard to spot because it wasn’t hiding. It simply was. It lay like a blanket over the heart and soul of all the Delafontaine boys, suffocating under the guise of comfort.

  The intercom crackled on, and slowly the cafeteria began to stir. Malachi put his paper down, face as blank as the new crossword puzzle in the Living section. Gabriel looked up from his stirring.

  “Attention all students. There will be a mandatory school assembly in the basketball gym following the final class period of the day. Students are expected to arrive on time and in uniform. Room checks will be performed to ensure that every student complies. Have a great day of classes, here at Delafontaine.”

  The voice finished cheerily. For a moment, it felt as if the dining hall had been resuscitated. Malachi began speculating with Owen over what the assembly was about, and Gabriel added another sugar cube to his coffee. Other tables whispered liberally, and Oliver felt the fog lift, but only slightly. He stared at Robert’s empty chair and wondered when his birthday was.

  ~

  Everyone piled into the gymnasium. Oliver, Malachi, Owen, Gabriel and Alex slid into seats at the back and looked nervously at one another. As soon as the gym rafters were full, Dean Tenbrook cleared her throat. She smoothed her suit with her hands and looked out into the disgruntled sea of students before her.

  “It has come to the attention of the Delafontaine Administration that a group of young men here are intent on committing acts of mischief. To be clear, we will not tolerate this behavior from our young men. It is our goal here at Delafontaine to enforce order, form, and grace. Vandalism does not represent any of our young men here at Delafontaine, and we would hate for this behavior to continue.” Dean Tenbrook paused and smiled before continuing. “With that being said, we understand that young men need constant opportunities to form communities. We consider this vandalism a cry for help, and as always Delafontaine administration will answer the calls of our young men. On Friday night, we will be holding our end of semester annual Fall Festival on the school grounds. There will be contests, prizes, and lots of good food. I hope you all enjoy.” Dean Tenbrook stepped down from the podium to scattered, confused applause. As the crowd of students rose and flooded from the auditorium, Oliver grew nauseous and afraid. He looked to Owen, and was shocked to see him smiling wide.

  ~

  “This is the opportunity we’ve been looking for.” Owen was more animated than he’d been in weeks, and his hope was infectious. Gabriel broke into his easy grin.

  “Feels like Christmas already, doesn’t it boys?” Alex remarked. Even Malachi’s lips turned slightly upright, and that was good enough for Oliver.

  “Ssh.” Malachi reminded all, and he went to the bookcase to stand sentry. The library was fairly quiet today. Gabriel removed Damien’s map from his boxers and slapped it down on the table. Alex eyed him critically, to which Gabriel responded “It hasn’t been in there the whole time.”

  “What’s the plan?” Oliver asked.

  Owen looked at the map again, and rotated it on the table so that its right side up was facing Oliver. “We use the festival as a cover. We have room check in the morning and at night so that shouldn’t be a problem. The festival is going to be on the quad nearest the forest. Should be easy to get in.”

  “Guards?” Alex asked. “They can’t cover the whole forest line. There will be a way in.” Owen said, firmly.

  “Seniors first?” Gabriel said. “Yeah. I’ll spread the word to everyone.”

  “What do we bring?” Alex asked.

  “Whatever free people wear.” Owen leaned back on his chair and smiled.

  “And the rest of us? We can’t all leave at the same time during the festival. It would be too suspicious.” Oliver wanted to add And Robert? But the words got stuck in his throat.

  Owen’s smile turned to a frown. “You said you would have no trouble getting out.” Oliver swallowed hard. He had indeed said that, but he was worried more than he let on. “Never mind. It’s fine.” Owen’s face relaxed and soon he, Alex, and Gabriel were discussing what they were going to do when they got out.

  “I want to find out where Damien went.” Gabriel said, and he looked to the ceiling, his eyes starry and full of hope.

  “I want to catch up with the kids in my neighborhood.” Alex said.

  “What will you do, Oliver?” Owen turned to him.

  Oliver had no doubt what he planned to do. “See my mother.” The words were but a whisper, but he said them with every bit of conviction he could muster. Owen nodded and turned back to the seniors.

  The next few days dragged like no other. Oliver found himself looking up at the newly replaced clock in Ms. Latham’s class at least four times in an hour, but it never moved. “That’s right, everyone. Finals are coming up.” Ms. Latham stood in front of her desk. Her hair was piled up in a bun on her head, and she crossed her arms. “I’ll wait after class for a few minutes for any who have questions.” The bell rang shortly thereafter, and as quickly as it had, Paul rushed to the front of the room and opened up his copy of Paradise Lost. Oliver passed him, feeling strangely guilty.

  Oliver walked down the hallway toward Dr. Heinz’s office.

  “Hey, Oliver!” A voice rang out behind him. He turned, and to his surprise Paul was running after him, his backpack flying in the wind behind him. “I was wondering if you wanted to study for Latham’s final. It’s been a while.”

  Oliver raised his eyebrows in utter surprise. “Oh no, thank you.” He turned and began walking again, but he felt a pressure on his shoulder. “

  You know, I asked Ms. Latham what happens if you fail. She said you have to take the class over, next year.” Oliver shrugged slightly, afraid that if he looked too casual he might give something away.

  “I think I’ll be okay. I’ll read it this weekend.” Paul’s expression changed from open to icy with breathtaking speed and Oliver felt incredibly uncomfortable. “Have it your way, then.” He said, and he turned on his heels.

  Still reeling from his encounter with Paul, Oliver sat down on Dr. Heinz’s yellow couch. Dr. Heinz smiled warmly at him. “How are things, Oliver?”

  “Fine. About to get a lot better.”

  “Oh?” Dr. Heinz wrote something down on his notepad and crossed his legs.

  “I took your advice.”

  “About?”

  “The fear.” Oliver said.

  “And what did you do?” Oliver toyed with the idea of telling him everything, but something---perhaps common sense---told him not to.

  “I decided that it is better to take action than to live in fear.”

  “Good, good. And how does that feel?”

  “Scary. I sometimes feel like I am doing the wrong thing because it seems so hard.”

  Dr. Heinz uncrossed his legs again. “That may well be fear taking its last stand. You see, if fear has had a stronghold on you for some time, it is not going to let go willingly. I like to call fear the great imitator. It can mimic any feeling, see. Guilt, anger, shame. And it does all of this to prevent you from reaching your true potential, I think. Just like many things in our world, you have to see it for what it really is. Undress it, and realize that beneath it all, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Nothing at all.” Oliver stood up to leave, but Dr. Heinz cleared his throat. “The semester is ending soon, Oliver. I just wanted to say that I enjoyed getting to know you, and I want to thank you for being so open with me.”

  Oliver swallowed hard. “I’m not going anywhere.” He babbled, rather unconvincingly, he suspected. Dr. Heinz smiled, but did not say another word on the matter. “Study hard on your finals.
” He said, before closing the door behind Oliver as he left.

  ~

  On the eve of the festival, there was a lightness about the student body. The prospect of freedom carried boys from class to class on a wave of hope and wonder.

  In History class, the energy level reached its pinnacle. Boys clamored into the classroom as if the only thing they ever wanted to do in life was take a history final. Mr. Johnson looked around the classroom. His long hair was tied up in a top knot and he held a stack of papers in his hand. “Everyone must remain in class until the period is over, even if you have finished.” The class groaned loudly at this and the mumbles continued well into the first five minutes of the test until Mr. Johnson clapped his hands sharply, putting an end to the chatter.

  Oliver wrote an impressive amount on his test, though he was reminded as he saw Paul racing through his, that it was not really impressive at all. But, he thought as he looked over his final answers, it was an appropriate ending to his semester at Delafontaine. He looked slowly over his shoulder, and to his surprise, every boy in class was done. Except for Paul, who continued scribbling away. Mr. Johnson sat on the edge of his desk in disbelief.

  “Everyone is finished already?” Affirmative mutters rose from the class.

  “Alright, well. Turn them in then. Make sure you pick up the winter break assignment on your way out.” There was an immediate stampede out of the classroom, forcing Mr. Johnson to duck out of the way. The stack of vacation assignments lay thick and untouched, until Paul walked by and grabbed a lone sheet before stomping from the room.

  Owen had certainly done his part in spreading the word, and by English class, the secret smiles had begun again. Only, they were not so secretive this time. Rather, they were bold, happy, and proud. The class chattered freely, prompting Ms. Latham to demand recitation of the class motto. Oliver tensed, wondering if she would simply be ignored, but to his surprise every voice rang out like a group of cheery Christmas carolers. Even Ms. Latham looked astonished, and she muttered something that sounded like, “Never seen kids this excited for finals…”