Live and Let Shop

by Michael P. Spradlin

  I figured I had nothing to lose by confronting Mr. Kim directly and asking him what the heck was going on. I knew he probably wouldn’t tell me anything, but I could be persistent and annoying, and I might be able to wear him down until he spilled the beans.

  I walked quietly back down the hall to Mr. Kim’s office. I could hear a radio playing softly in Mrs. Marquardt’s office, and the soft click-click of her keyboard. I knocked on Mr. Kim’s door. No answer. Maybe he couldn’t hear me. So I knocked a little louder, but not so loud that Mrs. Marquardt would hear me. Still no answer.

  Okay. I could do the smart thing here and go back to my room and forget the whole episode. That would work. Just forget the whole thing.

  I tried the knob. Like everything else at the Academy, the door wasn’t locked. Very trusting souls, these Blackthorn Academy residents. I knocked lightly as I opened the door.

  “Mr. Kim? Hello?”

  I swung the door open all the way and found the office empty. No Mr. Kim. Strange. I had only had my back to the office for a few seconds, and I was sure he couldn’t have left without me seeing him. So where did he go? I closed the door and crossed the office to his desk. Maybe he was hiding. Right. A game of hide-and-seek. I walked around the desk and looked under it. No Mr. Kim. The windows were shut and the blinds were down, so I didn’t think he could have left by the window. But just to be sure, I pulled open one of the blinds and looked out the window that was directly behind Mr. Kim’s desk. No rope or bedsheet hanging down to the ground. No Mr. Kim anywhere in sight.

  So had he disappeared? Did he have some kind of secret ninja invisibility mojo he was using? Had he actually been standing in the corner, but I couldn’t see him?

  “Mr. Kim? Are you here?”

  No answer.

  I noticed a pad of paper on his desk. When I’d been in his office a few weeks before, his desktop had been completely clear; no pens or anything. Now there was a pad of paper on the desk, with a single word written on it: “MITHRAS.” Was that what I’d heard him say in the hallway when he was talking to the suits? I’d thought he said “Mrs.” or “misses.” What the heck was MITHRAS? And yet it sounded oddly like something I’d heard before somewhere else. There was something out there, in a thread of memory that I couldn’t quite place. Mithras.

  Since I was snooping anyway, I decided to look in a desk drawer. Maybe just one. But to my surprise, all of the desk drawers were empty. No pens or paper or paper clips or Scotch tape or markers or staples or stamps or anything. Completely empty. Apparently Mr. Kim was not a fan of office supplies. All of a sudden, I noticed the knob on the door start to turn. Whoa! I’d be in so much trouble if I were caught in here. I quickly ducked underneath the desk.

  I couldn’t see who was coming in, but I could hear Mrs. Marquardt’s radio from across the hall. She must have left her door open and come into Mr. Kim’s office for something. Then I heard a gasp. Definitely Mrs. Marquardt. For a minute I thought I was busted. I tried to move my head a little bit to look up at the window behind Mr. Kim’s desk where I could see Mrs. Marquardt’s reflection. I saw her reach down and tear the top sheet of paper off the pad on Mr. Kim’s desk. She looked upset. I realized then that she didn’t know I was there. She gasped again, and then I heard her crumple the paper. Her reflection moved away and then I heard the office door close, followed a few seconds later by the sound of Mrs. Marquardt’s office door closing. Safe.

  What the heck was going on? That was a really strange display from Mrs. Marquardt. Or, okay, this might be normal behavior for Mrs. Marquardt, for all I knew. But Mr. Kim had definitely vanished from a closed room. Then Mrs. Marquardt blanched when she saw the word “MITHRAS” on a sheet of paper. And two strange FBI guys in suits were the last people I’d seen talking to Mr. Kim. Maybe, while my back was turned, they offed him and stuffed his body in a file cabinet. I’d better check those file cabinets in the corner. One of them could be holding Mr. Kim’s body!

  Hmm, on second thought, maybe I’d let someone else check those. Sorry, Mr. Kim, I truly hope you’re not dead, but Rachel doesn’t do the “find the dead body” thing. Besides, he was about a million-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. I doubted two guys like that could take him without shooting him or something. So he was almost certainly still alive, just gone. But where?

  I needed time to think about this. I was going to be late for Kitchen Duty if I didn’t hustle. I’d probably just missed Mr. Kim leaving his office. He’d just skipped out without my knowing. That had to be it. You can’t just disappear from a closed room.

  I crossed to the door and opened it a crack. Mrs. Marquardt’s door was closed, so I stepped quietly into the hall. Okay, I knew this was crazy, but I wanted to see if those guys were still in the atrium or out in front of the school. If I got a closer look at them, maybe I could figure out where I’d seen that one guy before.

  I started down the hall to the atrium, thinking what a strange day this had been. Mr. Kim acting more worked up than I’d ever seen him. Mrs. Marquardt acting like she’d seen a ghost. And what the heck was MITHRAS? But Kitchen Duty was in fifteen minutes, and I needed to haul butt if I was going to be on time. I would have made it too—if I hadn’t rounded the corner and run square into Special Agent Nathan Tyler of the FBI.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Rachel, You’ve Got a Lot of Explaining to Do

  “Oops. Sorry,” I said. He was the guy that looked familiar somehow. I started to go around him, trying to act casual. But his voice stopped me.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  I thought about answering “growing older.” But he kind of had a cop attitude and instinct told me not to crack wise. Maybe he didn’t realize that he was the one out of place here.

  “Going to the kitchen,” I said.

  “The kitchen is on the other side of the building,” he said. How did he know that?

  “Well, duh. I know that. I’m on my way to the atrium. It’s my turn to dust the trophy cases this week.” That was an incredibly good lie, and I was really proud of myself for thinking of it so fast.

  The guy just looked at me for a minute.

  “I thought you said you were going to the kitchen,” he said. Oops.

  “I meant I’m going to the kitchen after I dust the trophy cases.” Whew.

  He squinted at me.

  “Didn’t I see you in this hallway a few minutes ago?”

  “I’m sorry, may I ask who you are? You’re not a teacher, are you? I’ve only been here a short while and I don’t know everyone, but you don’t look familiar.” Another lie. I stared back at him. He didn’t say anything, so I went on, “You know, we’re not supposed to have strangers lurking around the school. Maybe I should call Mr. Kim and report you.” That ought to fix him. You can’t push Rachel Buchanan around!

  He reached into his suit and pulled out a badge case. He flipped it open and showed me his official FBI badge and ID.

  “My name’s Tyler, Nathan. I’m a Special Agent for the FBI. My partner and I were leaving, and I forgot something I wanted to ask Mr. Kim. Now answer my question. Didn’t I see you in the hallway a few minutes ago?”

  “Is Tyler your first name or your last? Because you’ve got one of those names that could go either way. Tyler Nathan or Nathan Tyler. Me, I can’t do that, my last name’s Buchanan. Buchanan Rachel doesn’t make sense. I always wanted one of those two-way names just to shake things up.” I was stalling. Agent Tyler was staring at me. I didn’t know what was going on yet, but until I did, I wasn’t going to sing to the Feds. Then, as luck would have it, Mrs. Marquardt came around the corner.

  “May I help you, Agent Tyler?” she asked. She strolled down the hall to where we stood.

  “I just had another question for Mr. Kim,” Tyler said.

  “I’m sorry, he is no longer in his office. In fact, I don’t know where he is. I can have him call you when he comes in.”

  “Sure. Okay. Umm. All right, that’ll be fine.” For some reason h
e was acting nervous, like he wanted to say something but didn’t want to say it in front of me.

  Finally Agent Tyler gave me another look, then turned and left. Where had I seen him before? It was driving me nuts.

  I was watching him walk down the hall and darn near jumped out of my skin when I felt Mrs. Marquardt’s hand on my shoulder.

  “Rachel, what are you doing here? This isn’t the way to the kitchen.”

  Mrs. Marquardt was turning into quite the chatterbox.

  “I know. I was on my way, then I heard a noise down here.” (Oh, how lame. I heard a noise? But it was all I could think of.) “I was just checking it out and then that agent guy came up. What’s up with that? Why is an FBI agent talking to Mr. Kim?”

  “Go to Kitchen Duty, Rachel.”

  “What?” When you’re being asked to do something you don’t want to do, I’ve often found it very useful to fake hearing loss.

  “Kitchen Duty. Now.”

  That Mrs. Marquardt. She could be a real cutup when she wanted to be.

  All the way to the kitchen, I kept thinking about three things: Where did Mr. Kim go? What was Mithras and where had I heard it? And where had I seen that Agent Tyler before? I hadn’t been anywhere but the Academy for the last four weeks, except for the class trip to D.C., and the more I thought about it, I doubted I’d seen him in California after my unfortunate misunderstanding with the police. If the FBI were going to send someone to check me out, they would have used someone from one of the offices out there, right? But I know I’d seen him somewhere.

  I was more convinced than ever that something about this school was just not right. If this place was supposed to be a school for kids with problems, why weren’t they teaching normal classes? I mean, why not science and geography instead of Code Theory and Criminology? And why the emphasis on martial arts? It was all just too bizarre.

  Not to mention this mysterious Top Floor. Well, that was enough for me. After Kitchen Duty today I was heading back to Mr. Kim’s office and we were going to have a little chat about all this. I was going to get some answers. Okay, probably not. But I was sure going to ask numerous questions. Besides, today was the day I’d completed my month, and I meant to hold him to his promise to get me out of here.

  I got to the kitchen with about thirty seconds to spare, and for the first time since I’d been at Blackthorn, the time dragged. I couldn’t concentrate, and Mrs. Clausen kept asking me if I was feeling all right. After my shift was over, I grabbed a tray of food and headed out to the tables to find Pilar. I was dying to tell someone about all of this stuff, and she seemed like my only logical candidate. Despite the night murmurs and the staring at me all the time, she seemed pretty smart. She’d been here longer than me and maybe she’d have some ideas.

  I told her what I’d seen. I could tell she didn’t believe me when I said the part about Mr. Kim disappearing from his office. But she admitted the other stuff was weird.

  Then it hit me. I suddenly knew where I’d seen Agent Tyler before.

  “That’s it,” I said out loud.

  “What’s it?” asked Pilar.

  “I know where I saw that Agent Tyler before,” I said.

  “Where?”

  “Here!”

  “In the lunchroom?”

  “No. Here at Blackthorn. He used to be a student here. I’m sure of it.” I looked at my watch and saw that there was twenty minutes left in the dinner period. I grabbed Pilar’s arm.

  “Come on. I’ve got to show you this.”

  Pilar protested but didn’t put up much of a fight. I led her from the cafeteria all the way across the building and back to the atrium. When we got there, I raced over to the trophy case where Mr. Kim had shown me the Blackthorn highlights a few weeks before. I searched through all of the photos, looking at the faces. There he was. Nathan Tyler, co-captain of the Blackthorn Academy basketball team from the year 1990.

  “Aha!” I said, and pointed. Pilar looked at the picture.

  “How do you know it’s the same guy?”

  “It’s him. There’s no doubt. A little older now, but he still looks the same. Besides, the caption says ‘Nathan Tyler, Co-Captain.’ It’s totally him. So why was he talking to Mr. Kim?”

  “Maybe he was just coming back to visit,” she said. “Maybe he and Mr. Kim have kept in touch and he was in the area, so he dropped by to say hello.”

  Sweet, reasonable, non-conspiracy-believing Pilar. So much work to do on her.

  “But (a) Mr. Kim was annoyed or upset, and (b) he freaking disappeared from an office with only one door!”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. But I don’t think it’s anything. Mr. Quinn works for the FBI sometimes, and he was a student here too. I don’t see how it’s any big deal.”

  “Did I mention the part about Mr. Kim disappearing? From an office with only one door? And the word ‘MITHRAS’ on the pad of paper and Mrs. Marquardt being all shocked when she saw it? Did I not mention that?”

  “I think you’ve watched too much X Files on TV, Raych.”

  Pilar had taken to calling me Raych lately, short for Rachel. Jamie used to call me that. I have to admit I kind of liked it. If it wasn’t for Pilar staring at me all the time and keeping me up all night with the sleep-talking, we could be pals.

  “Mr. Kim probably just stepped out when you were down the hall. And Mrs. Marquardt is weird anyway. I think you’ve let your imagination run away with you.”

  Sometimes you can’t find a sidekick when you need one. Well, something was strange at Blackthorn, and apparently I’d have to find out what it was on my own. Only, now it was late and I didn’t have time to go to Mr. Kim’s office to demand an explanation.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I said. Not! “Let’s get to Tae Kwon Do class. Mr. Kim will probably be there tonight anyway. I can ask him then.”

  But he wasn’t at Tae Kwon Do that night. Or the next. Mr. Torres ran both classes. In fact, Mr. Kim didn’t show his face around the school at all on the next day. No one really seemed to notice he was gone except me. I wasn’t sure why this all bothered me so much. For all I knew, maybe Mr. Kim was taking a vacation. But like I said, from what I’d seen, I didn’t think so. Something had seemed strange about this place from the beginning, and the unflappable Mr. Kim gone missing just added to my suspicion.

  Later that night, as I lay in bed, unable to sleep, something else that Mr. Kim had said to me jumped into my brain for no apparent reason. It can be crazy having a teenage brain. The afternoon of our fight in the atrium, he’d showed me pictures of Mrs. Clausen’s sons, the triplets. He’d said that two of them were in the military and another was a police detective in Miami. So that meant that Mr. Quinn, Agent Tyler, and one of Mrs. Clausen’s sons had all gone into some type of law-enforcement work. Then there was Judge Kerrigan. Another graduate of Blackthorn in a law-enforcement related field. That was a pretty high percentage of students.

  Pilar was still studying at her desk.

  “Pilar?” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Sure.”

  “You said you were sent here at the recommendation of a neighbor. Was that neighbor a policeman, by any chance?”

  “Wow. As a matter of fact, she was a policewoman. She was a detective with the Detroit Police Department. She went here herself. How did you guess?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Lucky guess. I figured cops and judges know about this place, since a lot of the kids are here because of problems with the law. Or else they are unfairly persecuted, like I was.” Lucky, my butt. Now my spider-sense was going full force. Yet another item to put into the “Things That Are Weird About Blackthorn Academy” column. It was mostly cops and judges and other legal types that sent kids here, and those kids all ended up becoming cops or judges themselves. There must be some subtle kind of brainwashing going on. Something subliminal in the classes or some chemical in the food. Maybe the lights in the building bl
inked messages into our brains.

  I decided to change the subject.

  “Have you thought about college at all, Pilar?”

  “Well, I’ll only be able to go if I can qualify for a scholarship. My aunt left me some money, but not enough for four years.”

  “Ever thought about what you want to study?”

  “I’m thinking criminology. Mr. Quinn’s class is so fascinating, and I think it might make a really cool job.”

  Another aha! Poor Pilar. She was being brainwashed and she didn’t even know it. Well, watch out, Blackthorn Academy—Rachel Buchanan is now on the case.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I Prove My Point

  Two more days went by and there was still no sign of Mr. Kim. But I wasn’t sitting idly by. I had been gathering intelligence, and what I learned went far beyond weird and coincidental to totally freaky. At least to me. I started by asking around to other students, and all of the kids who weren’t sent here because of “legal troubles,” every single one of them had been referred to or learned about Blackthorn from someone who was a cop or judge or social worker or in the military. Of the kids I talked to, fourteen had been sent here like I was—go to the school or go to Juvie. Twenty-one kids were orphans like Pilar. Eighteen had been sent here by their parents for the education. But guess what? All eighteen of those kids had a mother or father who was a policeman or some other type of “authority” figure, and every single one of them had at least one parent who was an alumnus of the school. And in almost every other case, the student was sent here by their probate judge, or by a friend, neighbor, or relative who just happened to be some type of law-enforcement person. And that was just the kids I was able to talk to. There were a few hundred students enrolled here, and I’d talked to only a third of them, if that. That was just too big of a coincidence to ignore.