But that was the end of it. Mrs. Murkley tramped to the front of the classroom and stood silently facing the blackboard. The students, who were still fixated on Adélaïde, quickly spun around when they heard Mrs. Murkley sit down.
It’s always troubling for a woman like Mrs. Murkley when someone so much smaller gains the upper hand. It upsets the natural order of things. What’s worse was Adélaïde did so with no effort.
The room was perfectly silent while Mrs. Murkley tried to regain her composure. When she finally stood up once more, her voice remained shaky.
“As this is the first day of school,” she said, “I think it best to be lenient, as I trust you’ve all observed.” She lifted the stack of papers from her desk. “Now for reasons I won’t pretend to understand, your head of school saw fit to send each class to the Rosewood Museum for a day of—a day of”—she looked down and read, “a day of on-site learning with lots of good cheer, to welcome you all to a lovely new year.”
The entire class giggled, but a glance from Mrs. Murkley was enough to silence them all. She dropped a pile on the first desk of each row and the students passed them back.
THE WILLOW ACADEMY
ROSEWOOD MUSEUM
A day of on-site learning with lots of good cheer
To welcome you all to a lovely new year
This year, each class will spend a day at the Rosewood Museum. It is our sincere hope that this will inspire much productivity for the year. We are also excited to announce that the museum has partnered with the Rosewood Zoo and each class will have a unique experience.
As your basics teacher is: Mrs. Murkley, you will go to the museum on: Monday, the 6th of October. In order to attend, please have your parents sign this slip and return it to your basics teacher.
________________________________
Signature
________________________________
Signature
I wish you all the best this year.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Thimbleton
Mrs. Thimbleton
Willow Academy Head of School
“Make no mistake,” Mrs. Murkley continued. “I do not believe in such frivolity and it will end with this trip. If your parents don’t sign these slips, such frivolity ends now.”
She grabbed her bag and left the room before the morning break bell sounded. The students stared at one another as the air came back into the room.
“What just happened?” Charlie asked.
“This is going to be a long year,” Alice said to Molly as they made for the door. Charlie ran after them.
Archer was studying Adélaïde, but quickly turned away when she smiled at him.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” he said, and stood up.
“Good idea,” said Oliver, following him out. “I think I might throw up, too.”
CHAPTER
TEN
♦ CROCODILE INDIGESTION ♦
An entire year lay ahead—an entire year with Mrs. Murkley. That was enough to send almost everyone running to DuttonLick’s when the final bell rang to drown their sorrows in something sweet. That’s what Oliver wanted to do, but Archer was going to the library so he followed. Judging from their expressions, you’d think it was Oliver, not Archer, who was on the top of Mrs. Murkley’s list.
“Strictly speaking,” said Oliver. “Do you think it’s legal allowing someone like her to teach? She’s not stable.”
Archer was only half listening. He bent down to pick up a button, then pushed through the library doors. Miss Whitewood greeted them warmly from behind her desk.
“I won’t pretend to know what this is about,” she said. “But here’s a book that might help you.”
She set the book on the counter and returned to her paperwork. Archer thanked her and turned to leave, but Oliver hesitated. He leaned against her desk and said, “Can I ask you a question, Miss Whitewood?”
“You just did,” Miss Whitewood replied, still reviewing a form. “But you may ask another if you wish.”
“Thanks,” said Oliver. “I was just curious to know if you’ve met the new teacher, Mrs. Murkley?”
Miss Whitewood’s pen froze. “I’ve known her for some time,” she said. “Why do you ask? Is she one of your teachers?”
Archer and Oliver nodded. Miss Whitewood nodded back and lowered her voice. “You must stay out of trouble,” she warned. “She has no tolerance for disobedience. None of any kind. You must keep to her good side.”
“But she only has one side,” said Oliver. “And it’s not a good one.”
“Just keep your head down. You’ll be fine.”
They left Miss Whitewood’s desk.
“What do you think it means to be on her list?” Oliver asked.
“She can’t kill us,” Archer said. He wasn’t half as worried about Mrs. Murkley as Oliver was.
“Doesn’t mean she won’t try,” Oliver mumbled.
Alice and Charlie were walking out of the reading room as Archer and Oliver entered.
“Steer clear of those icebergs,” they said, laughing.
Archer grumbled and took a seat. Oliver did the same, watching Charlie. “He really doesn’t have much hip or shoulder for his clothes to hold on to,” he said. “Mrs. Murkley was right about that.”
Archer gave him a little smile and opened the book.
DIETARY HABITS OF CROCODILES
. . . and while humans are not a traditional staple of a Nile crocodile’s diet, there have been numerous accounts of them feasting on humans . . .
“See?” said Oliver.
“But this doesn’t prove anything,” said Archer. “It could still all be a lie.”
“That’s true,” said Oliver. “But you heard what she said before. She’s never attended a real school. She was tutored—probably because she was traveling the world.”
“So why is she in a real school now?” asked Archer. “Why did she stop?”
“Her leg, of course. She stopped after the accident. That was enough to make her give it all up.”
Archer wasn’t sold.
“You at least have to admit that she was pretty incredible in class.”
“I didn’t notice anything special,” said Archer.
“But Mrs. Murkley went after her and she didn’t even blink. I would have collapsed into my shoes.” Oliver placed a plaid cushion on his lap and traced the pattern with his finger. “You know,” he continued. “She just might be the one who could—” He stopped and looked at Archer from the corner of his eye.
“Who could what?” asked Archer.
Oliver shrugged. “I forgot what I was saying. It’s just—I don’t think there’s anyone in this school who has done the things she’s done. And I know there was no one willing to do the thing she did.”
“What did she do?”
“She took Mrs. Murkley off you. It was obvious. I don’t know why she did that. But you can’t deny that she did.”
It was true. But if Archer was impressed, he hid it well as he lifted his feet and slumped deeper into the couch, dwelling on the mysterious crocodile girl. Oliver tucked the pillow behind his head and went back to dwelling on Mrs. Murkley. Between the two of them, the empty reading room brimmed with dwell.
♦ SIZE SMALL BLAZER ♦
Adélaïde waited alone in the room after class. She knew with her leg, she wouldn’t make it very far in the crowded halls. But once they fell silent, she ventured out, held up the note from Mrs. Thimbleton, and asked a janitor for directions to the library.
“I have no idea where that is,” the janitor replied, looking terribly confused. “But if I had to guess, I would say it’s somewhere in Thailand.”
Now Adélaïde was confused. “Thailand?” she repeated, thinking this janitor was having a bit of fun with her. “The library is in Thailand?”
The janitor started laughing. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he replied. “Between your accent and my old ears, I thought you asked about a Thai ferry. No, the library
is much closer.”
The janitor pointed his mop past her head. “Go down this corridor here and make a right at the end. You’ll see a book request station on your left and you’ll want to keep going through the next set of doors. On the other side, you’ll come to a staircase. Go up three flights—three, mind you. At the top, there will be two more sets of doors. You’ll want the doors on the right. Those will take you to the library.”
Adélaïde blinked at him.
“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” The janitor splashed his mop into the bucket and said he’d walk with her.
“I’ve always suggested that they make a map of this place,” he said, as they made their way down the corridor. “You should see the faces of the little ones when they first arrive. Horror. That’s the only way to describe it.”
“Are all schools this big?” Adélaïde asked.
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “But before they fired me, I used to clean over at Rosewood Hospital. And as crazy as it sounds, this school makes that hospital look tiny. I have to say, the buildings feel oddly similar, though.”
Adélaïde froze and tilted her head at the janitor. That’s what she had been thinking earlier that morning. The Button Factory reminded her of the Paris hospital. She didn’t like that.
“Is something wrong?” the janitor asked.
Adélaïde shook her head and they continued on.
“Why did they fire you?” she asked.
“Pigeons,” he replied.
“Pigeons?”
“Yes, the creatures kept flying into the maternity ward, and I had a difficult time getting them out and cleaning up after them. They wanted someone younger and more up to the task.” A mischievous smile stretched across his face. “Of course, I gave them a little piece of my mind before leaving. But now, I only clean here and at the museum.”
When they reached the stairs, he repeated, “Three flights up and the doors on the right.” Adélaïde thanked him and clomped up the stairs. She stepped into the library, passed the librarian’s deserted desk, and wandered down rows of shelves. She poked her head into the reading room, glanced over at the empty couches and armchairs, and was about to leave when she spotted two heads only just visible over the back of a couch.
“What did she do?” said one of the heads.
“She took Mrs. Murkley off you,” said the other. “It was obvious. I don’t know why she did that. But you can’t deny that she did.”
Adélaïde couldn’t see their faces, but was nearly certain the dark-haired one was the polar bear boy—the same boy she’d seen on the rooftop during her first night in Rosewood. She hesitated, not sure if she should introduce herself, but that’s what she decided to do.
TOMP, TOMP, TOMP. “AH—HEM.”
Archer and Oliver glanced up over the back of the couch. The crocodile girl was peering down at them. They straightened. Oliver rubbed his hair, which only made it worse. No one said a word for a moment or two, but it felt like five or six. Archer was trying to figure out how long she’d been standing there. Adélaïde was trying to figure out what to say. Oliver cleared his throat.
“Hello,” he said, with a slight hesitation because this girl intimidated him a little. “I—uh—I like clouds, too.”
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“I’m Oliver Glub,” he replied. Archer didn’t say anything, so Oliver added, “And this is Archer Helmsley.”
“I thought his name was Alfred,” said Adélaïde.
Oliver grinned. “I don’t know why Mrs. Murkley calls him that.”
Archer wasn’t amused. He remained silent. Adélaïde sat down in an armchair facing them.
“I thought there was going to be an explosion in class,” Oliver continued. “At least until you stepped in. Well, after you stepped in I thought there would be another explosion. But Archer was lucky you did.”
“She’s worse than Mr. Stanislas,” said Adélaïde.
Oliver didn’t know who Mr. Stanislas was, but it had to be true.
“My name is Adélaïde Belmont, by the way,” she said.
Archer listened to this exchange without adding a single word. He was too busy staring at Adélaïde’s leg. Crocodiles. He couldn’t compete with that. When Adélaïde looked at him he smiled, but that was just a disguise. In that moment, Archer felt smaller than a thumbtack but just as pointed.
“I was fine,” he said, pushing up from the couch. “I didn’t need your help. I’m a Helmsley. And that means something. Besides, my head was almost eaten by a polar bear but I still have it.” He pointed at her leg. “You didn’t do so well with the crocodile, did you?”
Archer felt prickly after saying this and wished he hadn’t. But he had and he didn’t wait for a response before storming out of the reading room, looking more and more miserable with each step.
Oliver and Adélaïde exchanged glances.
“Sorry,” said Oliver. “He’s usually much nicer than that.”
“Is he?”
“He is. But I’d better go, too.” Oliver stood up and awkwardly stuck out his hand. Adélaïde shook it. “It was nice meeting you,” he said, and took off after Archer.
Adélaïde sat quietly in the reading room, wondering if she had said something wrong. She wasn’t alone. Miss Whitewood had watched the scene from behind a bookshelf and once Oliver was gone, she approached Adélaïde.
“Am I right to think you’re the new girl?” she asked.
Adélaïde turned and looked at Miss Whitewood. Compared with Mrs. Murkley, she thought Miss Whitewood’s face shone like a million stars.
“Yes,” she replied. “My name is Adélaïde.”
“Well Adélaïde, I’m supposed to give you a tour, aren’t I? Why don’t we start in this room, which I’m sure you’ve already guessed is part of the library. I’m the librarian. My name is Miss Whitewood.” Without asking, she took Adélaïde’s hand. They left the reading room and wandered down the book aisles.
“I like your leg, by the way,” said Miss Whitewood. “Is it oak?”
“I think so,” Adélaïde replied.
♦ AN UNDESIRED WOBBLE ♦
Oliver sprinted down the sidewalk after Archer. Two blocks later, Archer was in sight, but Oliver’s pace slowed and not because he was tired. Suddenly, Oliver stopped all together and threw himself behind a tree. He peered around the trunk, waiting for Archer to step into his house. And when he did, Oliver ducked into his. He needed time to think everything over.
Archer felt horrible as he climbed the foyer steps. The light was on beneath the door of his father’s study and his mother was in the sitting room dusting a photo of his grandparents deep in the jungles of somewhere.
“There’s a plate for you in the fridge,” she said. “I have to go to Mrs. Leperton’s tonight, and your father is working late. He has to appear in court tomorrow.”
“I’m not feeling well,” said Archer, nodding. “I’ll be in my room.”
He turned to continue up the stairs but his mother stopped him.
“Did you see Mrs. Murkley?” she asked.
Archer rubbed his arm and sighed. He’d seen Mrs. Murkley all right.
“And did you apologize?”
Archer bobbed his head up and down. “Yes,” he replied.
“I’m sure she appreciated it. A new day for the two of you, yes?”
Archer didn’t say anything.
“Yes?” she repeated.
“Yes, she thanked me,” he lied, knowing his mother wouldn’t want to hear anything else. He was right. Mrs. Helmsley smiled and said, “Very good.” Archer trudged up the stairs, passing the polar bear on the way to his room.
“Good afternoon,” said the bear.
Archer stopped, but he wasn’t in the mood.
“You’re not real,” he said. “Nothing in Helmsley House is.”
“It’s true,” the bear replied. “But we were all of us mighty fine creatures in our day. This one time in the Arctic I—”
“Why
are you talking to me?” Archer asked.
“I’m not talking to you,” said the bear. “You’re using me to talk to yourself. Or perhaps you’re using me to argue with yourself. Either way, I’m not saying anything. It’s all you.”
Archer opened his mouth and raised a finger but went no further.
“It is a little strange, isn’t it?” said the bear.
“Am I crazy?” asked Archer.
That was really not the sort of question you should ever ask a stuffed polar bear. Still, Archer had nothing to worry about. Many people fear they might be crazy at some point in their lives, but it requires a healthy dose of sanity to think there’s a chance you might be crazy. It’s only when you think there is no chance whatsoever that you should be worried. Only you won’t be worried because you’ll be crazy.
“You’re a little crazy,” said the bear. “But if you ask me, that’s for the best.”
Archer lowered his finger and shut his mouth, thinking it better to say nothing more. He continued to his room, closed his door, and peeked across the gardens. Adélaïde’s house was dark. He wished he hadn’t said what he’d said, but jealousy makes the best of us sour with the milk.
Archer felt dizzy. He spread out on his bed. Everything was out of order. Nothing made sense. And he wanted something he understood. To one side of his bedroom was a bookshelf, built into the wall and stretching ten feet to the ceiling. Archer lifted his head. He had something on the top shelf—something he didn’t want his mother to find. And though it was quite the process to retrieve it, Archer rolled off his bed and set to work. He dragged a small table to the foot of the bookshelf and began stacking chairs on top. Three did the job well enough. He then carefully climbed up the pile, stuck his hand over the dusty lip of the shelf, and removed a small turquoise box.
Archer opened the box. The glass eye looked up at him. His stomach tied itself in a knot. He missed his grandparents terribly. But before his thoughts could go any further, Archer froze. He felt a wobble. In and of themselves, wobbles are fine things. Wobbles happen all the time. But a wobble is most unwelcome when it originates from three chairs stacked atop a table with you at the pinnacle, eight feet up. There followed a second wobble. Archer closed his eyes. The glass eye couldn’t. He clutched the box, and he and the tower collapsed to the floor.
The Doldrums Page 10