chapter Twenty - nine
I'd been up to the school at night before, but only on special occasions: parent-teachers' night, the freshman dance. On those occasions, light spilling from the classroom windows seemed to fill the night air with a warm, inviting cheer. Tonight there was no light spilling from the windows. No warmth. No cheer. The only available light came from the streetlamps casting long, ominous shadows across the school's entrance. Inside, the building was bathed in darkness.
As we moved up the walkway, the large stone knights standing sentry seemed to be warning us to go home. We ignored their warning and walked right up to the door. That's when we realized the flaw in our plan. The door was locked and we didn't have a key.
"What now?" said Sybil. She was holding a Thermos of the herbal tea.
"I don't know. A window?"
The ground-floor windows were at least six feet off the ground. There was no way Sybil or I could reach any of them.
As I looked around for something to climb onto to boost myself up to the window ledge, Sybil stayed put. She needed her energy.
"Margot!" she suddenly called. Then she dove into the shrubbery by the front steps.
The front door was swinging open.
"Hide!"
But I didn't have time to run and hide. I was a few feet from the door; in a moment I'd be exposed.
Someone stepped out. Principal Taft. He set the cardboard box he was carrying on the ground.
I gasped.
His head swiveled toward me. Quickly, I stepped back into the shadows, pressed my body against the building, and held my breath. Taft looked right at me.
Just then a rustling in the bushes by the steps yanked his attention away. Tart's head spun around.
"Who's there?"
"Meow."
Smiling with relief, he peered into the bushes. "Shoo," he said.
"Meow."
"Go on! Git outta here!" He stomped his foot, and I heard a sound as if an animal had scampered away.
Satisfied the cat was gone, Principal Taft took a quick glance around, his eyes passing right by me. He didn't see me. He ducked back into the building.
Then, without thinking, just as the door was about to bang shut, I reached out and grabbed it.
I held the door open.
Tome on," I called.
Sybil scrambled out of the bushes. Her hair was a disaster.
There were tiny scratches on her arms and face, caused by the thorny brush. She was beginning to look like a zombie.
"You're a mess."
"Shouldn't you be thanking me for saving you from getting caught?"
"Oh. Yeah. Right. Thanks."
We held our breaths and entered.
I eased the door shut, thrusting us into near darkness. The soft light from the exit signs cast an eerie pall over the empty corridors. Principal Taft's footsteps moving away toward his office echoed in the darkness.
"Let's hide in the stairwell until he leaves," I said softly. "Then we can get on with our search."
The stairwell was darker than the corridor. We had crouched there for about five minutes when Sybil spoke.
"When I first moved here I was so worried about making friends."
"Lucky you. You caught me on the rebound."
Soft laughter rang out in the darkness.
"Remember how we first met?" she asked.
"How can I forget. You'd wrapped your arms around an old tree that was supposed to be bulldozed for the new shopping center. You gathered quite a crowd."
"You were the only girl in the crowd who joined me."
"Yeah," I said darkly. "Amanda and my ex-friends were laughing at you. 1 wanted to show them up."
"I'm glad you did."
More silence.
"You've changed," she said quietly. "Ever since you've become the it-girl and got a boyfriend, you're different. We used to have fun together."
"Yeah. We did." I would have said more, but I didn't want her to hear my voice trembling.
I had changed over the past seven weeks. I'd gone from insecure, to prideful, to... I don't know, something horrible. But now that the darkness within had been brought into the light, I recognized it wasn't a powerful force within me. It was nothing but fear, and jealousy, and pride--the fear of not being cool, or fashionable, or popular, or not having a boyfriend; the fear of being laughed at by Amanda Culpepper. I was jealous of my best friend, and too full of pride to admit it. Useless emotions.
"You really did do a good job as lunchroom monitor," I said. It was an apology of sorts.
"Thanks."
"I see why you chose it now. It seemed silly at first, but now I get it. You wanted to change the school's social structure, didn't you?"
She snorted out a laugh. "Yeah," she said. "What a silly idea."
"Why are you always trying to fix the world?"
"I don't know. Somebody has to. Why not us?"
I couldn't argue with that. I'd been chasing the status quo, and look where it had landed me.
Tart's approaching footsteps ended the discussion. He came into view carrying another cardboard box, which he set down as he eased open the door. The box clanked of empty cans. Then he picked up the box and exited the building, the door banging shut behind him. He was gone.
"What do you think Taft is doing here at night?" Sybil asked.
"He's the principal. Principals can't get enough of school. That's why they take the job in the first place."
"I suppose. But what if he and Mrs. Mars are in it together?"
Food for thought.
We made our way through the darkness to Mrs. Mars' office. We entered and turned on the light. While I had never been in the office before, it was clear someone had thrown a tantrum there. Many of her trophies and memorabilia were on the floor, some of them broken.
"She must have been pretty upset that the zombies didn't get us," Sybil said. Her voice was weak and scratchy.
I turned to her. Under the fluorescent lights I could see she had taken a turn for the worse. Her pale skin had acquired a green tint. The whites of her eyes were red again--her pupils dark stones set in deep sockets.
"Why don't you rest, Syb? I got this."
"I am a little tired."
She sat on the loveseat across from the desk, opened the Thermos, and sipped the tea. I began my search.
The walls of the office were adorned with framed photographs. Mrs. Mars was in each one, smiling and shaking hands with different women. In each photo there was a look of pride in her eyes. She wasn't scowling or leering. This was a side of Mrs. Mars I'd never seen. I thought I recognized one of the women, but I didn't know from where.
Eventually my search led to the closet. When I opened the door, a fragrance wafted out.
"Eww! What is that?" called Sybil.
My mind made an instant connection.
"I remember that smell," I said. "Stinky tennis shoes covered with cheese and then left out in the rain The vacant
lot." My voice rose as the pieces fell into place.
"Yes! And in the corridor earlier, when someone was listening."
I dove into the closet. Two long, pleated skirts hung on old
wooden hangers. A pair of black high-top industrial-strength gym shoes were in the comer--her daily uniform. I was beginning to go through her things when I remembered something else.
A low whistle escaped my lips. "Oh, man."
"What?"
"That swatch of fabric I found clinging to the nail. I just remembered where I'd seen it before. Mrs. Mars' scarf."
Mrs. Mars wore the same exact hideous blue scarf around her neck every single day. I was certain the fabric I had found clinging to the nail earlier was from her scarf.
I dug deeper into the closet. There was a simple cotton top on a hanger behind the pleated skirts. Neatly tied around the neck of the top was a torn blue silk scarf. I didn't have to put it up to my nose. The stench from the vacant lot was all over it.
I looked over at Sybil, my shoulders slumping. "She was so good at hounding me about the state endurance exam I didn't realize she was the zombie master. No wonder they were afraid of her."
"Did you find the antidote?"
I shook my head, and watched as the last vestiges of hope drained from her eyes. With each passing moment she was becoming more zombie-like. Her skin was paler, greener, crumblier.
"But I have a feeling the answer's right under our noses." Another lie. But I couldn't allow her to lose faith. I moved to the desk and began riffling through papers. Atop a neat pile was a letter addressed to my mother. A chill shot through me. I picked it up, holding it as if it were a time bomb that might go off at any moment.
"What is it?"
"A letter from Mrs. Mars to my mother." My hands were shaking. "Read it."
Dear Mrs. Johnson,
Thank you so much for staying in such close touch with me throughout the semester. How I do enjoy hearing from you. I am writing today to clear up a little misunderstanding. Some students believe the state endurance exam is about running, jumping, and climbing. And while those things are what a girl must do to pass, the exam itself represents something more important. It represents character. I have given up the notion of turning the modern teenage girl into an athlete. But I haven't given up trying to build character in these girls, and I believe enduring the rigors of the exam does just that Please pass this information on to your amazing daughter. I look forward to having her in my class again next semester, where we will have another go at the state endurance exam--same bat time, same bat channel
Very truly yours,
Eleanor Mars
Sybil was staring at me, waiting for me to say something.
"I don't get it," I said, rereading the letter. "Just something about me being in her class next semester and taking the state endurance exam. I thought she was going to pass me. She's crazy."
"Did she mention Baron or Milton, or the antidote?" Sybil asked. Her voice had gone raspy like sandpaper.
"No."
A bit more of the light of life disappeared from her eyes. She stood up. "Something's ... happening to me."
"Hang on, Syb. Well search the entire school if we have to."
She took a halting step toward me and went spilling to the floor. "Reecahh." She mumbled something I couldn't make out.
I moved to her side, stooped, and cradled her in my arms. "You're going to be all right, Syb," I said soothingly, as tears sprang into my eyes.
She looked up at me. Her dark eyes were filled with ravenous desire. Her parched lips parted, and she rasped a single word. "Run!"