Puppet

by Ed Kightlinger

  Now, the laughter’s booming echoes begin to attack her body unmercifully in a more physical way. Her arms, hands, and fingers start to flail helplessly in the air! Her teeth start to clatter! Her lips begin to tremble. Her cheeks start to palpitate as spurting air floods into her mouth! Her cheeks painfully inflate like a balloon! They feel like they are going to explode! She can hardly catch her breath! She tries to turn her head in a desperate attempt to gulp air into her aching lungs! But she cannot turn her head! She begins to see dazzling white lights sprinting like a gazillion meteors in front of her eyes!

  I am going to pass out!

  Unexpectedly, the tormenting gale force laughter ceases just as a rapidly intensifying, continuous blast of hot air begins to assail every inch of her body! Every single molecule of dust in the pitch-black room begins to slam into her face and exposed skin! The particles feel like merciless fishhook barbs shattering onto a concrete wall! The explosion of air gradually increases until, like the wind of the hideous laughter, it is gale-force! Chloe wants to turn around to escape the gale, but her feet will not move! It is like something has glued them to the floor! She tries to turn her head, but she cannot! She is forced to take the gale force wind face-first!

  She tries to scream, to bring about someone’s, anyone’s attention to her brutalizing predicament. Nevertheless, she is powerless to utter a sound! Now, she can barely breathe! Her breaths are coming and going in quick, frantic, tortuous gasps. She starts to feel light-headed once more due to the lack of oxygen.

  If what she has been experiencing is not nightmarish enough, now she is being swallowed up in a gradually strengthening, petrifying, corkscrewing whirlwind! Just as she thinks she is going to pass out due to spiraling in place, the whirlwind abruptly ceases. She quickly opens her eyes and hurriedly gasps for air.

  “Hello, Chloe. We meet again!”

  Oh, no! I would recognize that voice anywhere. The voice belongs to Space Cowboy! What in tarnation is he doing here in my school? I thought he was a figment of my imagination in my lurid dream! Gosh, I hope he is whole and not just his head! That is all I need after hearing what I think is Puppet’s voice, seeing Colette suspended from threads of twine, feeling the horror of gale-force gusts, and helplessly corkscrewing inside a whirlwind while I gasped for breath!

  Space Cowboy’s head rolls from the blackness and stops at the foot of Chloe’s rigid body. She does not want to look down at the detestable head, but some unseen power forces her to lower her head. She wants to close her eyes, but she cannot. The same hidden power compels her to stare wide-eyed at the head as it gawks up at her, its one eye twitching like mad. As it had with Colette’s figure, a halo light begins to encase Space Cowboy’s head.

  The voice of Space Cowboy says, “I feel bad this is happening to you, Chloe. I warned you. Do not go into the light!”

  Despite that she is still gasping for breath, Chloe manages to squeak out a reply.

  “Light, Space Cowboy? To what light are you referring? All I see is you and nothing more.”

  “Reality, Chloe. The light of reality. Puppet’s reality. Do not agree to take on the project that you and your friends will undertake. Do not agree to do it, Chloe. I am warning you. If you undertake the project, you will suffer. If you do not, all will be okay. Trust me.”

  *****

  Part II: I haven’t done anything wrong!

  “Miss Brown, Miss Chloe Alexandria Brown! Wake up! I know you do not enjoy being in social studies. However, sleeping or daydreaming in class is not the way to avoid the subject.”

  “Whaaaat!” Chloe replies, her eyes blinking like they are panic-stricken. “I wasn’t sleeping, ma’am.”

  Chloe’s teacher looks at her steadily. She says in a harsh tone, “Oh, really? What did I say before I approached your desk?”

  Chloe looks up at her teacher. When she replies, her voice is strangely hoarse like she has been shouting. Her lips, mouth, and throat are parched as well.

  “You said, ‘Ancient Greece had an influence on Western culture in the areas of language, politics, science, and the arts.’ You also mentioned that it had major effects on the Roman Empire as well, the empire that eventually ruled it.’” She glances down at her notepad.

  “Everything you have said during class is right here, to include what you said a few seconds ago.”

  Her teacher leans over to take in what Chloe has written. Although the look on her teacher’s face remains skeptical, she manages to grin.

  “Hmm, that is one-hundred percent correct, and I see that you have been taking good notes. I guess you weren’t daydreaming or sleeping after all. I apologize that I said you were sleeping, but you had a strange, far-off, distant stare, and you were mumbling to yourself. Please do not talk to yourself in class, Miss Brown. It distracts the other students, and it annoys me. Nonetheless, you have to go see the principal, Missus Davenhill.”

  “Why?” Chloe stammers. Her eyes begin to mist over with tears. “You said that I had repeated to you what you taught us about ancient Greece.” She glances at her notepad. “Also, you can see I have taken good notes. I haven’t done anything wrong!”

  Chloe’s teacher says with an earnest, reassuring smile, “You haven’t done anything wrong. I received a notification on my laptop a few seconds ago that you must go to the principal’s office. Missus Davenhill has some questions to ask you about the incident that happened when you were the cafeteria monitor.” She glances at her watch.

  “Pack your belongings. We only have fifteen minutes left in this class period, so I doubt you will be returning today. Furthermore, so that you know, this weekend’s homework assignment is to read chapter fourteen. We will have a quiz on Tuesday covering today’s lecture and your reading assignment. I hope you have a good weekend, Miss Brown.” She gently taps Chloe on the shoulder. She says with a sincere tone, “I trust all goes well in Missus Davenhill’s office.”

  Chloe inhales deeply, and then she says in a whisper, “Whew! That is a good thing! I thought I was in trouble or something. Yes, ma’am; I will read chapter fourteen, and I will be ready for the quiz. Thank you!”

  Brenae is sitting behind Chloe. Once their teacher has returned to the front of the classroom, she leans forward in her chair.

  Brenae says, “You call being summoned to the principal’s office a good thing? Dang, Champ, I would want to run the other way – like clear out of school! Anything but meeting with Missus Davenhill.”

  Chloe glances to the front of the classroom. The teacher’s back is to them as she jots this weekend’s homework assignment on the whiteboard. Chloe turns in her chair to whisper to Brenae.

  “Missus Davenhill already told me she doesn’t blame me for what happened during the food fight. She said there was no way I could have stopped it even if I had wanted to. And boy did I ever want to stop it! She probably wants to see me about the videotape that recorded the entire thing. I think it is missing from her desk drawer. Some weird, vivid thoughts just told me someone stole it.”

  As she reaches down to retrieve her backpack from beneath her chair, Chloe whispers, “Puppet stole the videotape, Bre. I know that he did! But I am not going to tell that to Missus Davenhill. She will think I am nuts or worse!”

  Moreover, she may think that I am the one who stole it!

  “How do you know someone stole it?” Brenae asks. “That sounds too weird to be true. Besides, there is no way Puppet can get into her office, no less into school, especially after his arrest for trespassing and harassing students.”

  Chloe says in a whisper, “I will tell you and Diana Jane later, Bre. I have to go. Text me, okay?”

  Brenae looks past Chloe and cannot help but notice that their teacher has turned around from the whiteboard. She is giving her and Chloe a stern look for whispering in class.

  Brenae thinks to herself, Dang, she has good ears! She could hear a whisper a mile away! I cannot believe she had her back to the class too. She is scary! No wonder she is the social studies teac
her. I guess it takes one weirdo to teach weirdo stuff!

  Brenae nods her head at Chloe, and then she looks down at the doodling she has been working on during class. She quickly slides the paper with the doodles beneath her textbook. Like Chloe, and probably every other high school student worldwide, social studies is Brenae’s least favorite subject. Doodling in class while she is pretending to take notes is her only escape from the boredom of seemingly limitless, boring facts, “who cares?” statistics, unimportant notable dates, and never-ending trivia.

  Besides, every darned thing she says is in the textbook. Like almost verbatim. Ugh!

  *****

  Part III: The Memo

  Chloe almost runs to the principal’s office. She briefly stops for a long drink from the water fountain.

  As soon as Chloe steps foot into Missus Davenhill’s office, she can tell that her principal is not in an agreeable mood. Her principal looks deeply worried. At first, Missus Davenhill doesn’t say good afternoon or even mutter a hello. All she does is a gesture to the chair in front of her desk with a slight wave of her hand. Chloe places her bookbag on the floor and plops down in the armchair.

  “Miss Brown, do you know who took the videotape from my desk?”

  Chloe crosses her fingers on her right hand as she stammers, “No ma’am. I have no idea who took the videotape.”

  What her principal says next causes Chloe to shiver from head to toe.

  “You do know that stealing is a serious crime, Chloe. Do you not? Anyone caught stealing in school is subject to immediate suspension.”

  What Missus Davenhill has said has scared Chloe half to death. She knows that whatever she says in reply will sound untrue. Chloe’s lips, mouth, and throat quickly go from parched to completely bone dry. She can tell that her face has turned beet red as well. She can feel the hairs on the nape of her neck are standing at attention. Despite her guilt-ridden feelings, she manages to squeak out a reply.

  “Yes, ma’am, I know that stealing is a serious crime.” Chloe raises her right hand in the air like she is taking an oath. “I swear to you. I did not take the videotape from your desk. Besides, if I had, I am certain my doing so would have been recorded by one of the two cameras outside your office.”

  Missus Davenhill replies softly in an understanding tone, “Oh, Chloe, please excuse me if you thought I was accusing you. On the contrary, I am not accusing you of stealing. I am simply stating the fact that theft is a serious crime. You are not a suspect, I assure you. Your deportment and character are above reproach and without question. In spite of this, I need to ask you if you told anyone about the tape in my desk drawer?”

  Chloe inhales sharply. What Missus Davenhill has asked her is worse than her nightmares and visions about strange, puppety things, real or otherwise. She feels her face turn pasty white, and her heart begins to race.

  Missus Davenhill has been around teenagers most of her career. She has been intimately involved over the years in school-related facets as it concerns her immediate family as well. Her youngest granddaughter, Lindsey, is a sophomore at Claymore High, and her oldest granddaughter graduated four years ago. Missus Davenhill immediately recognizes that what she asked Chloe has upset her much. She decides to give Chloe some more time to collect her thoughts before she replies.

  Missus Davenhill says, “Please excuse me for a second, Chloe.” She points to her nearly empty coffee cup. “This stuff not only keeps me sane, but it also gets me through the day.” She turns around in her chair to refill her coffee cup. She stalls for time by fiddling with a few items on her credenza.

  While her principal feigns busyness, Chloe ponders how she should respond to her question.

  I have no earthly idea that it was Puppet’s voice that I heard in my strange vision. Hence, I could not know for sure if it was Puppet who said that he had taken the videotape. All I know is that the owner of that terrible, high-pitched voice said that he had stolen it. So, there is no way I am going to tell Missus Davenhill that Puppet took the tape. However, I cannot tell a lie when it comes to Anna. That part of all this craziness is factual. I need to confess.

  When Missus Davenhill turns around in her chair, Chloe stares down at her shoes. Her eyes are misting up with tears, and her face is burning a hot, nearly unbearable temperature. Her ears feel like they are on fire. When Chloe finally replies, she utters her barely audible words in a quick, clipped manner.

  “Yes, ma’am, I told my best friend. Her name is Anna. I told her that you were going to make a copy of the videotape. I told her that you were going to put it in your safe deposit box at your bank. I also told her that you had the original of the tape in your desk drawer. I am truly sorry. I know you told me to keep yesterday’s conversation between you and me.” She looks up. Now tears are streaming down her face.

  “Please forgive me. It is just that I had to tell someone, anyone about what happened. It was too weird to keep to myself. As I said, Anna is my best friend. I am certain she would not have told anyone about the tapes.” She pauses briefly, and then she says in a confident tone, “Besides, Anna doesn’t attend school here. I am one hundred percent certain she did not steal it. She wouldn’t even know where your office is if she stumbled into it head-first!”

  Missus Davenhill hands Chloe a tissue. “Chloe, I accept your apology. All the same, you have to understand that you and I should not trust anyone going forward, that is anyone but two other people. As such, I must insist that you do not tell anyone but your friends Brenae and Diana Jane what you saw on the videotape of the food fight scenes or what you and I will discuss next.”

  “Brenae and Diana Jane?” Chloe whispers. “Are they like in your circle of confidence or something? If they are, I certainly hope so. They are smart. Plus, they are my two best friends in school.”

  Missus Davenhill nods her head. She hands Chloe a typewritten memo. Chloe briefly glances at the paper. She looks up at her principal with a puzzled, questioning expression.

  Missus Davenhill says, “This memo stipulates I am giving you, as well as your friends Brenae and Diana Jane, a special extracurricular assignment in the form of an investigation. I assign you the role of the team leader. The three of you will receive extra credit in your humanities class after you complete the task. The memo details everything about the scope of your investigative mandate. Please allow me a moment to summarize what the note says and the authority I have delegated to the three of you.

  “The three of you will work together to investigate what happened during the cafeteria food fight. You may conduct your in-school portion of the investigation during your fourth-period study hall. I have informed your study hall teacher, Mister Blanch. I also permit you to use the small conference room next to the guidance counselor’s office for your meetings and any conferences you may have with other students.

  “The rationale for this investigation will be evident to everyone that you interview and anyone who cares to read my memo. That is because the three of you were indirectly involved – you as the cafeteria monitor and Brenae and Diana Jane as students standing in the cafeteria line – when the food fight began. I have three copies of the memo. This one is for you. Before you leave, Missus Bell will give you two additional copies. Please give them to Brenae and Diana Jane.

  “This memo authorizes the three of you to collect all facts, interview any student that was present during the food fight, and to report to me in writing within two months the results of your investigation. Our school resource officer, Officer Bennett, will assist you in any way possible. He and I have already discussed the memo’s intent. Officer Bennett will ensure you have the support of the Buford County Police Department if necessary. While I seriously doubt you will need the services of Officer Bennett or the police department, this memo authorizes you to liaise with them on my behalf. Officer Bennett and, as often as her busy schedule permits, Missus Bell will attend any meetings I have with you and your team.”

  Missus Davenhill moves from behind her desk. S
he slowly closes her office door and stares through the glass into the outer office. As her principal stands beside her, Chloe cannot help but notice that the elderly, well-dressed, dignified-looking woman appears shaken. Her hair is a bit disheveled, her face is ashen white, and she is trembling ever so slightly. Her current bearing, which is wholly contrary to her usual, confident, and self-assured attitude, is disturbing. She turns around to face Chloe. When at last she speaks, her tone is a hushed whisper.

  “Chloe, this morning I reviewed the videotapes of all the cameras affiliated with my office. As you probably know, there are two cameras outside my office – one at the entranceway to the secretary’s office and one above my door.” She gestures with a nod of her head to the ceiling tiles above her desk. Chloe glances at the ceiling, and then she looks at her principal.

  Missus Davenhill says, “There is a hidden camera with a microphone above my desk. It is there to protect students’ interests when I interview them. It protects my interests as well. It is a strange world we live in these days, Chloe. What is even more bizarre is what I am about to tell you.” She moves to sit behind her desk.

  “When we reviewed the videotape of yesterday’s food fight, it was apparent to the three of us that strange things were happening in the cafeteria. We did not discuss what we saw. Furthermore, we did not discuss what we did not see. Even so, I could tell by the look on your face that you were shocked.

  “We did not see the culprit that started the food fight, yet we saw ice cream cups thrown to the floor in the cafeteria serving line. We watched in disbelief as someone or something grabbed spaghetti and meatballs off of a tray and chucked it over the serving line railing. We watched as a bottle of ketchup drifted in the air then hopped over the railing.