Sooz looked relieved though, and she stepped over, put her arm around Dirk, and said, “You’ll always have me, Dirk. And I’m glad it didn’t work. I didn’t want you to go in the first place.”
Amazingly, he didn’t seem to mind this closeness, this intrusion—in fact Dirk rested his head on her shoulder, taking comfort in her sympathy, and said, “Thank you Sooz, thank you. I would have missed you too.” Sooz smiled happily.
Chris looked relieved too, but perhaps for other reasons. He’d begun to think that maybe Dirk really was from another world, and that would have been so incredible, so extraordinarily mind-blowing, he wasn’t sure that he could have handled it. But now he realized it was all just an elaborate game after all, and Dirk was making it up. All this magic stuff was just in their own minds. And that was so much easier to deal with.
“I’m sorry, Dirk,” said Christopher. “Maybe, you know … Maybe it’s, you know … Maybe this was just taking it too far. Maybe you’re not really a Dark Lord and all that.”
Dirk straightened up, his face a mask of anger. “How dare you question me? Don’t you know who I am? I am the Dark Lord! Master of the Legions of Dread and Sorcerer Supreme! My home is the Iron Tower of Despair, beyond the Plains of Desolation!”
In his anger, he kicked out at the pot of incense and ashes, sending the little gas burner flying. It slammed into the wall, coming to rest against the old wooden timbers of the pavilion.
“Whoa, don’t worry! Small fire, small problem,” said Chris, as he darted forward to turn off the gas burner.
But then, without warning, the old timbers burst into flame, and the fire began to spread fast, licking along the old planks as if they were coated in gasoline!
“What the … ! Get out of here, now!” shouted Christopher at the top of his voice, and he ran for the doorway with Sooz right behind him.
Dirk paused for a moment, mesmerized by the flames, staring at them as they grew, a fascinated smile spreading across his features. The reddish glow lit up his face and eyes, and, just then, for a moment Dirk really looked like a Dark Lord, standing over some burning city his Orcish legions had just sacked, watching the flaming inferno and laughing in wild triumph.
“Come on, Dirk,” screamed Sooz. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
Dirk, shocked out of his reverie, turned and sprinted for the door.
When they burst out into the afternoon sunlight, they paused for a moment, unsure what to do next, a rising sense of panic overwhelming them. Had they just set fire to the Players Pavilion? This was bad! Already, flames were belching out of the windows and a whirling genie of black smoke was spiraling upward.
Dirk was gazing at the burning pavilion, fascinated by the flames. He appeared distracted, not his usual self.
“Are you all right, Dirk?” said Sooz.
Dirk looked over at her. His face shocked her. Instead of the usual mischievous grin, the regal arrogance, the confident self-belief, there was only misery, grief, despair, and hopelessness.
“I really thought that would work … ,” he muttered, almost to himself.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can try again,” said Chris. “But right now we really need to get moving. What should we do, Dirk?”
“What?” Dirk said. “What?”
“What do we do, Dirk? What do we do?” asked Chris.
“Oh, yes, of course,” said Dirk. He pulled himself together. “We must split up. Go and do something other people can check. You know, get an alibi. Like asking your mom if you can go to the movies, Sooz, something like that. We’ll meet later tonight, at the Purejoies. There we’ll draw up a plan, and make sure our stories match. Denial, denial, denial! I’ll see you later, but for now, I must be alone.” With that, Dirk dashed off toward the garden.
“Oh, God, we’re in for it now,” said Sooz. Chris looked at her, his panic-stricken face sick with worry. But then he pulled himself together.
“I guess he’s right,” said Chris. “Maybe we can get away with it. Dirk will come up with something. If anyone can, he can.”
“Yeah, Dirk’ll fix it,” said Sooz. That thought calmed them down a little.
“Let’s go, before the police and the fire department get here. I’ll see you later, Sooz,” said Chris, and he headed off after Dirk.
Sooz set out after him. Behind them, the pavilion roared with flames. As they were nearing the low wall by the garden, she saw Chris ducking down out of sight behind a bush.
Suddenly Grousammer came over the wall, running straight toward the pavilion, his face agog.
He drew up short when he saw Sooz, and shouted, “Susan Black! You’ve got to get away from here! Quick, this way …”
Grousammer was trying to save her. Sooz waved her hand in acknowledgment.
Grousammer looked at her hand and his eyes narrowed in suspicious anger. Sooz followed his gaze. Her hand was closed around a big box of kitchen matches …
The Trouble with Sooz
Sooz stood despondently in Grousammer’s office. She was in big trouble this time! He had taken her to his office, told her in no uncertain terms to wait there, and then rushed off to deal with the fire department, the police, and the bomb squad. As she stood there, worrying about what was going to happen, she noticed a book on Grousammer’s desk. It looked like his diary. She couldn’t help herself … With a guilty backward glance at the door, she leaned over, turned the diary to face her, and opened it.
The Diary of Hercules Grousammer
A RECORD OF THE EXPLOITS OF THE GREAT EXPLORER
MOUNTAINEER, LEGAL MIND OF THE CENTURY … TEACHER
One day, this will constitute the memoirs of
the greatest school principal ever!
Sooz grinned—Hercules, what a name! Wait till she told Dirk. She flipped through a few pages near the end at random.
May 8
I took a nap in the school garden today. I woke up
an hour or so later with several painful bee stings.
Can’t understand how getting stung like that didn’t
wake me up! What was most odd was that the bee
stings formed a perfect circle around my jawline
and neck.
May 9
I don’t know why, but I just get the feeling that
that little reprobate Dirk Lloyd had something to
do with that bee sting episode. If I could find a way
of expelling the boy I would. Oh, for a return to
corporal punishment!
May 23
One of the little horrors managed to steal some
school report cards, and wrote up a set of reports
on the teachers, and then passed them around to
all the children in the playground. I’ve attached a
copy, as evidence should I ever find the culprit. And
when I find out who did it, they shall be punished
severely! We must maintain the proper respect and
deference due to us teachers! I already have my
suspicions … If ever they did a book or a movie on
the childhood of one of those Bond villains, like
Dr. No or Blofeld, or a supervillain like that
preposterous Dr. Doom, they’d not be far off the
mark with that Dirk Lloyd boy. If ever a boy was
going to grow up to be such a criminal mastermind
it’s him. Hmm—“it is he,” I should say. Don’t want
to lose points for poor English, ha ha.
May 25
The superintendent trapped me again after the
school board meetings. He’s a persistent you-know-what,
I’ll give him that. Insists on seeing the
receipts for the Players Pavilion fireproofing job. I
don’t think I can delay him much longer, blast it.
I’ll have to think of something.
That last entry was intriguing. What could it mean? She’d have to tell Dirk about that as well
. Suddenly Sooz heard footsteps outside the door. She quickly flipped the diary shut, and put it back in its place. Grousammer stomped into the room, glaring at her. He glanced at his diary, and then up at Sooz suspiciously. He sat down angrily, snatched it up, and put it away in the drawer of his desk.
Sooz endured a lecture on the responsibilities and duties of a young girl in the modern world, how disappointed he and all the staff were with her, how disappointed her mother would be, how black eyeliner and a lip-piercing were not looks that the school wanted to encourage, and how serious a matter it was to burn down the school pavilion.
“But it wasn’t me,” protested Sooz weakly. She was feeling very intimidated by the whole thing and was trying to hold down a rising sense of fear and panic, and all she could manage was a rather feeble protest. Grousammer chewed her head off anyway.
“Oh please, don’t waste my time with lying, Susan Black! I caught you running from the conflagration with a box of matches in your hand!”
“But, but—”
“But nothing, Miss Black! This is a serious matter. I am considering calling the police. They’d arrest you for arson, for goodness’ sake—a serious matter! You could be expelled from school, even charged!” shrieked Grousammer, spittle flying from his mouth, his lips drawn back in an angry snarl.
Sooz sniveled piteously, but that only seemed to make Grousammer angrier.
“And you didn’t even give a second thought to what this will do to the reputation of the school! We’ll have the superintendent all over us now, you little idiot!” howled Grousammer, his shrieking rage taking him over completely.
Sooz stepped back. Grousammer’s lost it, she thought to herself. But then his words began to sink in. Sooz held back tears. It was so unfair that he wouldn’t let her get a word in. And what will her mother think, and all her friends? The thought of it made her feel so ashamed. And it wasn’t even her fault. She couldn’t control it anymore, tears rolling down her face as she began to cry.
“It’s too late for tears now, Miss Black,” said Grousammer cruelly, almost as if he was enjoying this.
“But,” sniveled Sooz, staring at the floor. “But … it was an accident. It was only a little fire, and the whole thing went up so fast! It shouldn’t have burned up like that. I don’t know what happened, it was just my camping stove, a little thing …” Sooz looked up.
Grousammer had fallen silent, a hand up at his beard, slowly stroking it thoughtfully. He flicked his eyes from side to side shiftily. Then his whole demeanor changed.
“Er, yes, well. Yes, it does sound like an unfortunate accident,” he said, handing Sooz a handkerchief from his jacket pocket.
Sooz wiped her tears away with the handkerchief. She knew something had changed, but wasn’t quite sure what. Even so, she was going to go along with it. Sniffing, she said, “Oh, it was, Mouseham … I mean, Mr. Grousammer. It was an accident, really.”
Grousammer scowled. He hated his nickname, and any use of it within range of his hearing would normally bring instant detention, but he seemed strangely distracted at the moment.
Sooz thought furiously. The whole thing was Dirk’s fault. And Grousammer had been horrible to her. She hated him! If only Dirk really was a Dark Lord instead of just a weird kid. Though that was one of the things she loved about Dirk—he was strange. The strangest Goth ever! The thought of him cheered her up a little. But what should she do? Tell the truth and tell Mousehammer it was Dirk? But would he believe her—Dirk and Christopher weren’t even spotted anywhere near the pavilion, and she had been carrying the matches. By now, knowing Dirk, he probably had a cast-iron alibi anyway. Should she take the rap for Dirk? Maybe he’d spend more time with her if she did. What to do? Grousammer wasn’t quite himself either—and she didn’t know why.
Grousammer scowled some more. He drummed his fingers on the desk, deep in thought, the other hand scratched at his beard. Sooz raised an eyebrow. What was the crazy old monster up to, she wondered.
“What were you doing there, anyway?” he growled. Sooz decided to make it up as she went along. “I was just playing.”
“Playing? At your age? What do you mean?” snarled Grousammer.
“Well, you know, errr—camping. I was practicing camping. Girl Scouts. I took my gas cooker. Cooked up some hot dogs. But then I knocked it over,” said Sooz. She was getting ahold of herself now.
“I see,” said Grousammer, in a tone of voice that meant he didn’t see, and he didn’t believe.
Undeterred, Sooz pressed on—I might as well keep going, she thought, and said, “Yeah, that’s it. And the whole place went up. In seconds. We … I mean, I was lucky to get out alive!”
“Ah, yes, well. Umm, most unfortunate,” sputtered Grousammer, drumming his fingers even more feverishly on his desk.
“I mean, you saw it when you got there. I’d only just got out—it went up so fast!” she added.
Grousammer raised his eyes. Then he sighed and said, “Yes, yes. Well, we’ll see. I think for now we’ll assume you’re telling the truth. The fire department will investigate no doubt …” Grousammer trailed off.
Sooz could have sworn she noticed a look of panic in his eyes. What was going on?
Then he said, “Umm, I’ll have to suspend you for a few days, anyway. Can’t have people burning down the pavilion—even by accident—and getting away with it scot-free, you know. But if the, umm, investigation confirms what you’re saying, then you can come back to school. If not, well, I may still pass the matter on to the police.”
“Yes, sir,” said Sooz meekly. She wasn’t going to rock the boat—so far just getting away with a suspension was pretty good, and she’d got Chris and Dirk off the hook. They’d owe her for that.
“Well, off you go then, Miss Black. I suggest you go home immediately. In the meantime, I’ll call your mother and tell her what happened, and what my decision is.”
Sooz nodded. She knew he’d be telling her at some point—Mom wouldn’t be pleased, but if Grousammer accepted her story, Mom would too. Sooz didn’t need any encouragement to get out of there, so she turned and left. As she walked out the door, she noticed she still had Grousammer’s handkerchief in her hand. It was monogrammed, with the letters HG etched in gold on one corner. Hercules … It took all her willpower to stop herself from sniggering out loud—that certainly wouldn’t have gone over well! She hurried away, handkerchief in hand, half laughing, half fearful of what the future would hold.
Later that evening, after her mother had reamed her out, and grounded her for a whole week, Christopher called.
“Hi, Sooz, whatcha doing?”
“Playing Realm of Shadows.”
“What, that worthless online role-playing game?”
“Yeah, it’s cool.”
“Nah, it stinks! Don’t know why you don’t play Battlecraft with me and Dirk.”
“Well, Realm of Shadows doesn’t look as good, and it’s not nearly as big, but it’s free. It’s also got a Nightwalker character class, which is really, really cool. Oh, and did I say it was free? You know, free!”
“Yeah, whatever. I’ve seen it and it’s the worst.”
“Yeah, whatever to you too, fudge boy. I like it, so forget you. Anyway, is that why you called—to diss my favorite game?”
“Er, no, no. Sorry. I … Look, Sooz, did Mousehammer get you?”
“Yeah, he did.”
“Oh my God! What did you say?”
“Well, I said it was just me. You two are off the hook.”
“Wow!” There were a few moments of silence as Christopher digested this information. Then, “Jeez, thanks, Sooz, thanks a lot … But doesn’t that mean, you know, the police and stuff?”
“Maybe.”
“Look, you don’t have to do that, Sooz. It’s not fair. We’ll ’fess up.”
“No, it’s all right. I said it was an accident. Just me, cooking some hot dogs.”
“Hot dogs! You’re kidding. You’re not telling me the old vulture believe
d that, are you?”
“Yeah, he did, sort of. For now, anyway.”
“What did he do then? Didn’t he get the police in?”
“Well, no, Mousehammer just suspended me. It was weird. Like he didn’t want too much fuss made over it all.”
“What? Why?”
“Don’t know—there’s something going on. He’s worried about something. Except, he did say he might still tell the police. Depends what happens with the fire investigation. Anyway, where’s Dirk?”
“Dirk? He’s in his room. Won’t come out.”
“Why?”
“He’s, like, really miserable. Depressed or something, I’m not sure. The whole thing seems to have hit him pretty hard. He’s like Darth Vader on valium. Hasn’t said a word since we got back, just stares glumly out the window.”
“What? It’s me who’s gotten in trouble. Mom grounded me, and I’ve been suspended! Anyway, I won’t be at school for a few days. Get him to call me. Or come and see me. He owes me that much at least! Also, I found Grousammer’s diary—there’s something in it I want to talk to him about.”
“Okay, I’ll get him to come and see you. But he’s locked himself in his room right now. I’ll try and talk to him later.”
“Uh-oh, here comes Mom. Gotta go! See ya, Chris!”
“Later, Sooz!”
Click.
June Misery 3
All is lost. Though not on the field. But
who cares? Only the Sports Lord.
And as for this … Bah! The fools!
Part Four:
Anguish and Joy
The Black Hand of Despair
Dirk sat on the edge of the sofa, his head in his hands. Opposite him were Wings and Randle, the child psychologists. He’d been forced to put up with these weekly sessions ever since he had arrived on earth. Usually, Dirk was contemptuously dismissive of their therapies, their crackpot theories, and strange remedies based on that most bizarre of bizarre things—human psychology. As he kept telling them, he wasn’t really human so none of this would work on him.
Or so he had believed. Now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe they were right. Maybe he was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress, and maybe he really did have a Dissociative Personality Disorder, or whatever they had called it. Perhaps he was just an overimaginative little kid who’d invented the whole Dark Lord thing to cover up some other horrible event or trauma.
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