Ms. Richter shook her head.
“I will speak plainly, Max, so you understand and we can put this matter behind us,” said the Director. Her face was grim and the softness in her voice had evaporated. “We have analyzed and discussed this situation thoroughly. You would not be fine. The Enemy would come for you, and not just ‘Mrs. Millen’ and whoever else was in your house that day. A tremendous allocation of resources would be required to ensure your safety, and I simply cannot spare them at this time. You would endanger yourself, your father, and potentially many others. It is an unpleasant decision I have to make, but I have made it.”
Max listened carefully, weighing every word before he spoke.
“My father would be in danger?” he asked.
“Yes, Max. I am afraid he would be,” said Ms. Richter, her voice gentle once again.
Max bowed his head; when he spoke, his voice was quiet and thick with tears.
“So, I’m a prisoner,” he said. “I can’t even go home!”
“Oh, Max,” said Mr. Vincenti, patting his shoulder. “It won’t be so bad! You’re not the only student spending the break here, and we all celebrate the Yuletide together in the Sanctuary.”
Max ignored Mr. Vincenti and stared instead at a diploma over Ms. Richter’s shoulder. He kept his voice calm and even as he spoke.
“What lie should I tell my father?”
Ms. Richter sighed and placed her palms flat on her desk.
“That you failed your final exam in Mathematics and need to redo several units if you wish to avoid spending the summer here,” she answered.
Max bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. He wanted to shatter the arms of the slender chair as he got up to leave. He paused in the doorway.
“But I’ll be spending the summer here anyway, won’t I?” he asked, staring down the long hallway toward the foyer.
“I hope that will be your decision, Max. Not mine.”
Mum and Bob were in the kitchens dicing vegetables for soup when Max came in to make his phone call. Mum hummed merrily to herself as she worked, but Bob’s somber frown suggested he knew why Max was there. Wiping his hands on his apron, the ogre whispered something to Mum and led her quietly out of the kitchen.
Max’s father answered on the second ring.
“Are you busy right now, Dad? I’m sorry to bug you at the office.”
“No, no, no—I’m glad you called! In fact, your ears must be burning, because Mr. Lukens and I were just talking about you. I mentioned you were coming home from Rowan and he just about dropped his coffee mug!”
“You’re kidding,” said Max, sliding down the wall to slump against a large sack of potatoes.
“Nope,” his father said excitedly. “He was very impressed—said Rowan’s as exclusive as it gets and that he’s got a niece that might be interested in going. Isn’t that great?”
“Super.”
“Oh, and another thing,” said his father, lowering his voice. “He wants to talk to you about it at their Christmas party—only the bigwigs ever get invited to that shindig!”
Max began thumping his head dully against the hard wall behind him; he wished the line would go dead. “Dad, I’ve got some bad news….”
“What is it?” his father asked, the enthusiasm in his voice cooling. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” said Max, dropping his head between his knees. “I bombed my math final—I’m failing Mathematics.”
A relieved laugh burst through the receiver.
“Oh my gosh! You about gave me a heart attack! Is that it? Max, I think I failed algebra twice before it made any sense….”
“No, Dad—you don’t understand. I have to stay here over the break—otherwise I fail the class and have to stay here for summer school.”
There was a long pause at the other end; Max braced himself.
“What?” Scott McDaniels exclaimed. “Are you saying you’re not coming home for Christmas?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry—”
“Put someone from that school on the phone.”
Max flinched as the words spat rapid-fire out of the receiver. Reflexively, he craned his neck to see if any adults were present. He held his breath a moment, telling himself over and over again that he was keeping his father safe.
“There’s nobody here right now, Dad,” he said quietly. “I can have somebody call you.”
“I’ve never even heard of something like this! What kind of nerve does that place have? Keeping a kid away from his family because he can’t do a few word problems!”
There was a long pause before his father’s voice became very calm.
“Max, I want you to pack your things. I’ll be picking you up at the airport as arranged—”
“No, Dad—” Max pleaded.
“I’ll park the car and meet you—”
“Dad, I’m not coming home!” snapped Max, his frustration and guilt boiling over.
“Don’t you want to come home? Max, I’m your father…. I don’t care if you failed every stinking class they’ve got! I’m spending Christmas with my son! The Lukenses have invited us to their holiday party—”
“Oh, well as long as it’s good for business!” Max snapped.
“What are you talking about?” said his father, sounding hurt. “I’ve already put up the stockings and—”
“Did you put up Mom’s stocking?” Max interrupted.
“What?”
“Did you put up Mom’s stocking again?”
“Yes! I put up your mother’s stocking,” snapped his father defensively. “What’s that got to do with—”
“She’s dead, Dad!” Max screamed. “Stop putting up her stocking! Stop putting lipsticks and chocolates and jewelry in that stupid stocking! Mom is DEAD!”
Max heard his own words echo in the cavernous kitchen. Closing his eyes, he curled into a ball as shame consumed him. He braced himself for a torrent of angry words, but instead his father’s voice sounded chillingly calm.
“You are my son, and I love you very much. Pack all your things. I’ll be there to get you by noon tomorrow. You tell that teacher or whoever is keeping you there that I’ll call the police if they try to interfere.”
He heard his father’s phone rattle in its cradle before the line went dead. His mind and feelings numb, Max slowly got to his feet and hung up the phone.
“Whew! Now those were some fireworks!” exclaimed Mum with an excited gleam in her eye. The hag peered from around the corner, where she had nibbled an unpeeled carrot down to a nub. “I thought me and my sis knocked heads, but that takes the cake.”
Max said nothing but walked toward her like a zombie. Her crooked, panting grin wavered as he came closer. Stooping over Mum, Max hugged her tight, ignoring her lumpy back and sweaty blouse and hair that smelled of mop water. The hag stiffened while Max shook and pressed his cheek against her shoulder. Several moments later, Max felt her short, thick arms embrace him.
“Shhh…it’ll be all right, love,” said Mum.
Max lifted his head and looked at the watery red eyes blinking back tears at him.
“You haven’t lost a father, love,” she croaked. “You’ve gained a Mum!”
The hag immediately began pinching Max’s arm and looking urgently around the kitchen.
“We’ve got to feed you—that’s what we’ve got to do! That’s the trick—a full belly to chase the icky blahs away! Three hams and a cabbage and call Mum in the morning!”
The hag squeezed Max’s hand and suddenly darted off to a meat locker, humming contentedly as she began launching hams out the door.
Mr. Vincenti was waiting out in the dining hall when Max emerged.
“My dad says he’s coming to get me tomorrow morning,” said Max, walking past the older man and trudging up the stairs. “He says he’ll call the police if there’s any problem. I’ll let you and Ms. Richter figure that one out…. I’m going to my room and I want to be left alone.”
David was staring up at the stars beyond the glass, scribbling into a notebook, when Max came in and flopped into bed.
“What’s the matter?” asked David. He walked around the balcony, weaving through books and astronomical models on the floor, and took a seat on a small rug next to Max’s bed.
“Everything. Ms. Richter isn’t letting me go home for the break.”