In unison, secretaries looked up from their attendance sheets and sick notes, taking time to stare at the McAllisters, who were making their way to the headmaster’s office.
Inside, Headmaster Mooney and Mrs. Larkey were waiting for them, both seated behind his desk. Pleasantries were exchanged, though there was hardly anything pleasant about them. Headmaster Mooney, without fanfare, instructed Fern to tell them what, exactly, had happened the morning she disappeared. Fern looked at her mother, who nodded, signaling that it was all right for Fern to begin. Afraid to use extra words, Fern recounted her story.
She’d been reading Lord of the Flies, although she knew she shouldn’t have been because the class was reading The Giver. She closed her eyes, and when she woke up, she was lying on the sand, by a fire pit, at Pirate’s Cove. Fern decided not to press her luck with tales of the metal-detecting beach bum.
“You don’t remember anything else?” Mrs. Larkey asked.
Fern stared at the Freak Doctor’s spiked hair and thought she looked like an oversized sea anemone.
“No, that’s all I remember.”
“Has this ever happened before?” Mrs. Larkey questioned, eyeing Fern curiously.
“No,” Fern said, searching her mother’s expressionless face.
“Thank you, Fern,” Headmaster Mooney said, stroking his gray mustache with one hand. “You may now wait outside until we call you.”
Fern was instructed to sit in a wooden chair in the hall. She closed the smoky glass door behind her.
Inside, the conversation was just heating up.
“I’m sorry that we have to meet under such unpleasant circumstances, Mrs. McAllister,” the headmaster began. “Mrs. Larkey and I feel that we need to have a frank discussion concerning Fern.”
“I’m all ears,” Mrs. McAllister said.
“There’s no delicate way to say this: Fern has been exhibiting signs of Oppositional Defiant Disorder,” Mrs. Larkey said. “She’s developed a pattern of defiant behavior, disruptive conduct.”
“You’re saying she’s O.D.D?” Mrs. McAllister almost looked amused.
Mrs. Larkey cleared her throat and pushed her glasses to the bridge of her nose and continued. “There are signs that this behavior is beginning to affect the other students.”
“What Linda is trying to say,” Headmaster Mooney jumped in, “is that we’ve taken a closer look at Fern’s compatibility with St. Gregory’s. As educators, we become cognizant of things that can easily escape a parent or guardian’s attention. For instance, with Sam here—a twin brother who is successful and well liked—Fern may feel overshadowed. Not to mention Eddie, her older brother, a three-sport star. She could be acting out as a result. Have you ever thought about holding Fern back? It’s not that she’s not bright—”
Mrs. Larkey then interjected as they began their double team.
“Your daughter has special needs—needs that aren’t being filled here at St. Gregory’s. Now, there are a lot of options . . . ahem . . . a lot of schools deal exclusively—”
“What kind of disruption is Fern causing, if you don’t mind me asking?” Mrs. McAllister’s voice was as sweet and thick as California honey.
“Well, to begin, Fern is constantly going to the nurse’s office complaining of stomachaches. We’ve also had complaints from both students and teachers about her. For instance, she’s started climbing trees at lunch and recess. We’ve tried to stop her from doing this; it’s dangerous and a severe disruption. But she always finds a way. Bing, the janitor, now keeps an eye on her because we don’t want her getting hurt. You probably don’t realize this, Mrs. McAllister, but with a case like Fern’s, liability becomes a factor. We also must not forget the issue of her sensitivity to the sun.”
“What about her sensitivity to the sun?” Mrs. McAllister said rather blandly, knowing full well that Fern’s face had blistered due to sun exposure four times that fall alone.
Headmaster Mooney stared directly at Mrs. McAllister. He was surprised by how calm she was remaining. Tucker Snude’s parents had not gone down so quietly.
“Well, her sensitivity is inconsistent. Some days Fern is fine; others, she has a terrible time with the sun and can hardly bear to go outside. Which indicates that Fern may be exacerbating the problem herself some—”
“Are you suggesting that my daughter is lying out in the sun deliberately, in the hopes of permanently scarring her own face with blisters?” A slight hardness had crept into Mrs. McAllister’s voice.
“No, no, Mrs. McAllister, don’t mistake my meaning. Let me simply say that in my thirty years as an educator and administrator at St. Gregory’s, I’ve never seen any student with a problem similar to Fern’s. It defies medical explanation!”
The Commander’s eyes narrowed into an iron glare. The previous hint of hardness in her voice turned absolutely rigid. “I suggest, Headmaster Mooney, that you leave medical diagnoses to actual physicians. My daughter has enough trouble without those in a position to help offering nothing but criticism.”
“That aside,” said Mrs. Larkey, “there’s the issue of Fern’s disappearance.”
“Yes?”
“Leaving during school hours without permission is grounds for expulsion.”
“I’m so glad you brought that up,” Mrs. McAllister said. “I have several questions regarding my daughter’s ‘disappearance,’ as you so aptly called it.” Mrs. McAllister leaned over the headmaster’s desk and her eyes flashed, partnering up with her scowl. Instinctively, both Headmaster Mooney and Mrs. Larkey edged their chairs back two inches.
“Let me start with my first question: How exactly does a twelve-year-old girl end up miles away from school without her teachers, her classmates, or the St. Gregory’s supervisors noticing?”
“Fern’s escape without detection was unfortunate,” Headmaster Mooney began, “but she deliberately evaded our security measures.”
“How do you know she wasn’t taken against her will?”
“You heard Fern’s ridiculous story, just like we did, Mrs. McAllister,” Headmaster Mooney said, pushing himself forward as his voice grew antagonistic. He peered down at Fern McAllister’s folder, which he held in his palm authoritatively, wishing he could rid the earth of meddling parents once and for all. If they would leave the educating to him, everyone would be better off. The single parents, especially the mothers, were always the worst. “Can you honestly say you believe her?”
“Can you honestly say that a child might not make up a story after going through something traumatic?”
“What are you suggesting, Mrs. McAllister? That Fern was clandestinely taken out of class and then dropped off at Big Corona for a nice day at the beach?” Mrs. Larkey snorted as her glasses slid down her pointy nose.
“I’m suggesting that we don’t have all the facts. I’m suggesting that sitting outside this office, we have a severely traumatized girl on our hands and we should concentrate on getting to the bottom of that trauma. Don’t think for a second that I’m not aware that I have ample grounds for filing a case of criminal negligence. I know a number of mothers who might be very concerned to learn that student disappearances are treated so cavalierly at St. Gregory’s.” Mrs. McAllister paused. The serenity with which she first began the conversation reasserted itself. She took a lungful of headmaster office air and began again, calmly. “What I’m saying, I suppose, Headmaster Mooney, is that St. Gregory’s seems to be very lucky that my daughter appears to be physically unharmed.”
“Mrs. McAllister, please calm down.” Headmaster Mooney smiled, his face rosy, his bald head showing slight beads of perspiration. Though Headmaster Mooney was known for his steadfast belief in his own instincts, his demeanor had changed in an instant, as if Mrs. McAllister had said a magic word. Or phrase. His voice was now full of feigned kindness. It was the same tone that had allowed him to rise to the rank of headmaster at a very young age, though he only used it when he felt he absolutely had to.
“I’m very calm
,” Mrs. McAllister responded.
“Your daughter will always have a place here at St. Gregory’s. Eddie’s a model student; Sam is too; we’re just slightly concerned about Fern.”
“Well, you’re not nearly as concerned as I am, I assure you. Now, if you would be so kind as to instruct Mrs. Stonyfield to stop treating Fern like the class outcast, she might make some friends.” Mary Lou McAllister got up, straightening her suit. “If you have any further problems with Fern, you know how to reach me.”
“Of course, of course, Mrs. McAllister.” Much to Mrs. McAllister’s amusement, Headmaster Mooney rose out of his chair and bowed, if ever so slightly.
The headmaster knew he must resist the urge to tell Mrs. McAllister that when she had a PhD in education and a master’s in child psychology, then, and only then, should she give him advice on youth education. But he cherished his position. Much as he hated to admit it, one aggrieved parent could ruin him. Especially one as cunning as Mrs. McAllister—turning the whole escapade into an issue of St. Gregory’s security failure! It was perverse but brilliant.
“Mrs. McAllister?” Headmaster Mooney said.
“Yes,” she said, stopping just short of the door.
“I do apologize if you interpreted any of this as a suggestion that Fern doesn’t belong in the St. Gregory family. We just like to nip these types of problems in the bud,” he said. “I know Mrs. Larkey agrees that Fern has one of the most active imaginations we’ve ever encountered.”
“Of course, yes, I apologize,” Mrs. Larkey added, following Headmaster Mooney’s lead. “We value Fern, as we do all our students.”
“I appreciate your apology,” Mrs. McAllister said, letting Headmaster Mooney’s backhanded compliment slide this once.
“Thank you for coming in, I think we’re on the right—” Headmaster Mooney raised his fist in the air as if a pom-pom belonged in it. Mrs. McAllister slammed the door behind her, cutting the headmaster off in midsentence.
Fern was waiting for her mother as she exited the headmaster’s office. Mrs. McAllister held her hand out for her daughter. Mary Lou’s phony smile was still on her face as she nodded to the various secretaries. All eyes were on the well-dressed blond mother and her undersized dark-haired child as they traipsed through the office, down the stairs, and across the parking lot.
On the walk to the car, a wave of gratitude passed over Fern. She wanted to grab her mother around the waist and not let go. Although the door to the office was thick, Fern had been able to listen to the exchange between her mother and the headmaster as if there were no barrier at all. She’d heard every word.
“Thank you for defending me,” Fern said.
Mrs. McAllister stopped dead in the parking lot. Her olive-shaped eyes were on fire.
“What’s the matter with you?” Mrs. McAllister said, seething once again. She narrowed her eyes and looked at Fern with unmitigated anger. “Don’t you dare thank me!” she continued. “You put me in a terrible position, Fern Phoebe McAllister. You deserve to be punished, but it will not be by that pompous excuse for a man!”
Fern spent the afternoon lying on her bed, reading Island of the Blue Dolphins. Mrs. McAllister had decided Fern would spend one week grounded in her room, without any television or computer privileges. At 6:30 sharp, Eddie summoned her to dinner. The three McAllister children devoured their mother’s meat loaf eagerly. Eddie recounted an altercation that had interrupted football practice. Sam laughed at how Mrs. Stonyfield had caught Sally White clutching a drawing of a woman with Clownface written below it. Mrs. Stonyfield was too dense to realize the drawing was a portrait of her.
Mrs. McAllister was unusually quiet, finally dismissing her children to go do their homework. On the way up the stairs, Sam and Eddie cornered their sister by the top of the banister.
“What happened today, huh?” Eddie said, his blue eyes glowing with excitement. “Was there a showdown between Mooney and Mom or what? Kinsey said she saw you and Mom storming out of the office.”
“They were going to expel me. Mom convinced them not to . . . and got them to apologize,” Fern said, almost embarrassed.
“Really?” Eddie said. “See, Sammy, you don’t mess with the Commander, do you?” Eddie playfully hit his younger brother in the stomach with the back of his hand.
“When the Commander says jump . . . ,” Sam started.
“We say, ‘yes ma’am, how high?’” Eddie ended with a forehead salute. He grabbed the banister and hopped toward his room, saying, “Dodged a bullet there, sis! I swear, you’re untouchable!” He closed the door to his room. Fern figured he was in a rush to call Kinsey Wood, his girlfriend of more than a year, as he did every night after dinner. Sam remained in the hallway.
“Fern?”
Fern looked at her twin brother. Maybe it was his blue eyes or the freckles sprinkled on his cheeks, but Fern couldn’t help thinking that he was much younger than she was. She loved him, but she never felt that sameness, that twinness she thought she was supposed to. They were so different.
“Fern?” Sam asked again. He mouthed Follow me and headed toward their mother’s office. Fern walked along the hallway, careful not to make too much noise.
Sam and Fern hadn’t been able to talk alone until now. The Commander had made sure of that. She’d sequestered Fern in her room as soon as they arrived home from Pirate’s Cove and had practically stood guard outside Fern’s door. If Fern wasn’t going to fess up and talk to her, Mrs. McAllister reasoned, then she wasn’t going to talk to anyone else either. The Commander had spent the entire night before with her door open, half awake, listening for any sign that Sam might be trying to sneak into Fern’s room. Fern was to be under bedroom arrest for six more days.
After spending a whole day unable to talk about the disappearance, Sam couldn’t stand it any longer. He wanted to talk to Fern so badly, he was willing to risk it, even though his punishment, should he get caught, would probably include his spending a significant portion of his adolescence grounded with Fern. As he peered around the corner of the hallway and realized the Commander was still downstairs, probably watching the evening news, Sam figured he had at least a half hour before she would come upstairs to her room. He carefully crept around the corner of the hallway as Fern followed behind. They snuck into their mother’s office, where they could talk and research with less chance of the Commander bursting in on them.
Once the twins were safely in the office, Sam plopped down in the chair in front of the computer. Fern kneeled next to him, silently.
“Fern, what in the world’s going on with you? What really happened?” Sam said, looking at his sister. He was whispering, but having had no opportunity to really talk to his sister since yesterday, he was excited and unable to keep his voice low.
“I don’t know what happened, exactly. One second I was in class and then the next second I was on the beach.”
“You really don’t remember anything?” Sam said. “Like being taken to the beach or something?”
“Nothing.”
“Unbelievable! Do you realize what this means?” He had no idea how to even process the information. He looked at his sister with wide, wild eyes. That’s when he noticed the fear in Fern’s. She had been remarkably composed throughout the whole ordeal up to this point, so it was easy for Sam to forget that she was probably terrified. He calmed himself down.
“What did it feel like?” Sam asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“You mean disappearing?”
“And the reappearing.”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it scary?”
“You know what it was like?” Fern said, trying to describe something that there were no words for. “The second drop in Splash Mountain. When your stomach feels like it flies out of your body and everything goes dark. You come out of it in a totally new place. Except, there was nothing to hold on to.”
“So you really did just disappear.”
“Yeah.”
�
��Was it instantaneous?” Sam whispered.
“What do you mean?” Fern whispered back.
“When you disappeared,” Sam said. “Did you go to the beach right away?”
“Yes,” Fern said, anxious to confess to the only person who believed her. “Well, almost. Things went black for a few seconds. There was a strange person waiting there, Sam.”
“On the beach?”
“Yeah. This sunburned man—he was the only other person at Pirate’s Cove and he had this weird voice and a metal detector. He knew that I’d ‘disappeared.’ He said I disappeared because it was a celebration of the end of the Titanomachy. At least I think that’s what he said, but I’ve never heard that word in my life.”
“He sounds like he was talking gibberish.”
“It wasn’t gibberish.”
“He was probably just some crazy guy. There are lots of those people at the beach.”
“No, it was like he was waiting there for me. He seemed crazy but he wasn’t. He knew I’d come from school, and he told me to go into the cave by the stairs. I found initials there that were the same as Mom’s. M. L. M.”
“Those could have been anybody’s initials. The Commander would never deface anything.”
“I know you’re probably right.” Fern said, feeling foolish for bringing it up. She continued, “There was also a second cave behind the cave near the entrance to the beach. The sunburned man was calling it the Den.”
“What?”
“He pointed out this hole to me and after he left, I crawled through.”
“That’s impossible! We’ve been in that cave a million times before.”
“It was there. I swear. There was a strange inscription on the floor, with strange lettering. It looked very old. And there was a drawing on the wall.” Fern looked pleadingly at Sam, who looked confused. “I know all this sounds crazy, Sam, and that nobody is going to believe me, but you know me, I don’t—”
“I believe you,” Sam said. He looked at his sister with an earnest intensity. “I saw you disappear.”
The Otherworldlies Page 4