Seize the Night: New Tales of Vampiric Terror (19 page)

“Yes, ma’am,” Susan had said. And she had repeated her mom’s comment to only one person—Frieda Parker, her best friend. Frieda
clearly didn’t want to criticize Susan’s mom, but she’d said, “Who could forget he had a kid like Taylor?”

“I think my mom meant that Mr. Oswalt is always in trouble himself.” Susan, who was a much better listener than her mother had ever imagined, had no problem putting two and two together. And Susan was certainly smart enough to realize that Frieda was not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

“Wow. He must be pretty awful,” Frieda said. “Taylor’s the worst kid I’ve ever met.”

Susan agreed. Taylor
was
the worst. Though he did not talk back or act out violently, he could not sit still. He had trouble concentrating. He seemed to daydream all the time, or at least he didn’t pay attention to what the teacher was saying.

Taylor had been assigned Miss Fondevant’s room as a last resort, Susan had overheard her mother say. Susan’s mom, Merlie, taught at a different school, the elementary. Since Susan’s dad had died, Merlie Langley had spent a lot of time on the phone, mostly with her own best friend, Donna Lynn Strasbourg, who also taught at the elementary school.

Susan heard a lot of gossip about the other teachers, since her mother seemed to forget Susan was listening. Susan was pretty good at keeping her mouth shut. It was part of being smart. If she talked about what she’d heard, she wouldn’t hear any more. Susan liked to know stuff. It kept her safe. Since Susan didn’t have a dad, safety was a big issue to her.

Merlie Langley had told Donna Lynn, “I guess they gave Emily Fondevant both Susan and Taylor to kind of balance each other out.”

Susan hadn’t been able to hear Donna Lynn’s reply, but Merlie had laughed and said, “No, Susan’s always been naturally obedient. She’s no saint, but she’s got that sense of order. Her dad had nothing to do with
that
, I can tell you.”

Susan had her own opinion about her dad’s effect on her character. He’d been a fun-loving man from way up in Wisconsin, a place so far from Arkansas and so cold in the winter that Susan couldn’t even imagine it. He’d adored Susan. He’d loved Merlie. He’d had a good job at the bank. And then he’d died.

Susan, taking her vocabulary test now that James Phillip was back from the restroom, didn’t want to think about it. She glanced over at Frieda, whose lips were moving as she matched the vocabulary words with their definitions.

Miss Fondevant was walking up and down the rows of desks. She, too, seemed to be watching Frieda’s lips move. Frieda was olive skinned where Susan was fair, and her brunette hair came down to the point of her chin and bounced in exuberant waves, while Susan’s was flaxen and fell straight down her back. Frieda’s dad often slapped Frieda’s big brother, and Frieda, too. Susan had learned a lot about the Way Things Were from Frieda.

After the vocabulary test (Susan had gotten every word right, as usual), it was reading time. All the children had books from the school library. They were supposed to take them out from their desks and read them, while smaller groups took turns working on sentence structure with Miss Fondevant. The first small group was made up of James Phillip, Taylor, Frieda, and Susan. They took their chairs at the small round table by the door. Miss Fondevant was too big to get right up to the low table, so she sat back a little. To Susan’s anxiety, James Phillip was twitchy again, and tense all over.

Susan thought,
There’s something wrong with him.
Otherwise, the fear of Miss Fondevant would have kept the boy still. Even Taylor Oswalt took his seat in an orderly way.

Miss Fondevant frowned at James Phillip. She leaned forward to put her hand on his shoulder, as if to remind him that he must be quiet and still. But though his body was less tense as he perched in his chair, his mouth was drawn to one side.

Susan thought,
He hurts.
She was reminded of how her grandmother had looked when she’d had one of her upset stomachs.

However, she began to hope everything would go smoothly when James Phillip read his paragraphs. He did well enough, though he gasped once or twice. Just as it was time for Taylor to tell what word in the next sentence was the subject, James Phillip blurted, “Miss Fondevant, I have to go again.”

“No, James Phillip.”

“Miss Fondevant. Something’s wrong with me.”

“There certainly is. You seem intent on disrupting this class.” And there was not anything benevolent about Miss Fondevant’s face any longer. She was quite angry.

“I’m sick, Miss Fondevant.”

“I received no note from your mother, or the doctor, or the school nurse.”

James Phillip said, “I have a note . . .” But something terrible seemed to happen inside him just then, because he looked like no boy should look: in pain and terrified. He bent over and vomited. He pitched off his chair and onto the blue area rug.

Miss Fondevant acted immediately. “Frieda, run to the office. Tell Mrs. Fallon to call an ambulance.” As Frieda dashed out, the teacher knelt by James Phillip. “Sit in your places and keep quiet,” she told the other children, sounding quite savage. Too frightened to return to their desks, Susan and Taylor remained at the round table. Since James Phillip and Miss Fondevant were on the side of the table closest to the door, Susan and Taylor were the only ones who had a clear view. James Phillip had froth coming from his mouth.

Frieda ran back into the classroom to tell Miss Fondevant that the ambulance was on its way. She stood by the doorway, panting. The principal, Mr. Kosper, stepped around her to enter.

“How is he?” asked Mr. Kosper. He was very worried. His
normally good-humored face was serious, and his glasses had slid down on his nose. “What happened? Didn’t you get the note?”

Miss Fondevant didn’t shift her gaze from James Phillip as he lay on the carpet. He was breathing noisily. In a voice like ice slivers, she replied, “I received no note. I had no way of knowing something was wrong with the boy.”

Susan thought,
She’s setting out her case
. Miss Fondevant was preparing to defend herself. She’d heard her own mother do the same thing when she’d written a check on an account she’d known was overdrawn.

Mr. Kosper, looking down at James Phillip, said, “Mrs. Fallon is calling his parents.” He turned to look at the doorway. “I can hear the ambulance coming.” He lurched to his feet and went to look out into the hall, ready to wave the stretcher to the right room.

Miss Fondevant remaining kneeling by James Phillip, whose eyes were closed. The boy was looking whiter and whiter. Susan couldn’t look away, though she wanted to. So she was watching when—with a jerky motion, as though she couldn’t help herself—Miss Fondevant put her hand on James Phillip’s forehead. His body rippled from head to foot as though a wave had picked him up, and the breath escaped his lungs in a little “aaaaaa.”

Then he was still. Susan knew he was dead.

Susan and Taylor looked at each other. Then they turned to Frieda. It was the most complex silent exchange Susan had ever had since she’d looked into her grandmother’s eyes at her dad’s funeral. None of them dared to look at Miss Fondevant, for fear she would look back. Without speaking a word, they went to their desks, walking as silently as they possibly could. Aside from the blare of the ambulance just outside the school doors, there was not a single sound in Room 2.

The children who could go home early were picked up by their parents. Room 2’s other kids were divided among the rest of the sixth-grade teachers. Susan, whose mom had to work, spent the
remainder of the day sitting at the back of Mrs. Sullivan’s room next door along with Frieda, whose mom hadn’t been home when the school called.

Though Merlie wanted to spend that Saturday talking about what had happened and comforting her daughter, Susan had other fish to fry. She told her mother she felt fine, and she rode her bike to the library as soon as her mom got on the phone with Donna Lynn to talk about her daughter’s intransigence.

Susan had consulted the set of encyclopedias in the bookcase in the dining room. She took a notebook with her and wrote many interesting points in it, gleaned from her research. She also checked out several books. “This is a new interest for you, Susan,” Mrs. Prentiss said. She frowned. “Not a healthy one.”

“You know I have a good head on my shoulders, Mrs. Prentiss,” Susan said. “My mom always says so.” She smiled at the older woman. She was secretly afraid that the librarian would call her mom, but as Mrs. Prentiss shook her head and turned to the next patron, Susan could tell she wasn’t going to.

On Sunday, Susan and Merlie went to church in their nice dresses, and then they ate Sunday lunch at Gary’s Golden Grill along with lots of other church people.

Susan did not sleep well Sunday night. Tomorrow she’d be back in Room 2.

On Monday, Mr. Kosper was going to have an assembly to talk about what had happened. Merlie had explained to Susan that some of the town ministers would be there to answer children’s questions about James Phillip’s “passing.” This was a new and revolutionary concept to everyone in Schulzberg.

Merlie said, “They’ll help you put James Phillip’s passing in a faith context.” Merlie sighed. “I think we’ve already been through this, though, haven’t we, honey?” Merlie missed Susan’s dad awfully, just like Susan.

“Mom, I’m scared,” Susan said.

Her mother looked at her with sympathy and said, “Sweetie, I know it seems awful wrong when someone your age passes away, even worse than when we lost your dad, maybe, but it’s part of life. You need to go to school and face it. Everyone else is very sad, too. They’ll understand.”

“I’m not scared about that,” Susan said, trying desperately to find a way to tell her mother the truth. “At least, not of dying like James Phillip. I know he’s in heaven, Mom.” (At least, she sort of believed that might be true.) “It’s the
way
he died.” But there she stalled. Susan just couldn’t tell Merlie that Miss Fondevant had murdered James Phillip. Her mother would never believe it.

Susan was simply resigned when Merlie dropped her at the middle school, giving Susan an extra kiss and saying, “I’ll be thinking of you, honey,” before she drove off to the elementary school.

Since the bell hadn’t rung and the weather was sunny, a lot of the kids were staying outside until the last minute. Susan sat on the low wall around the schoolyard. Frieda joined her there. Taylor ran by, his shirt untucked and his shoelaces undone. He gave them a wild look. Susan could tell he wanted to talk but didn’t dare stop. Boys who stopped to talk to girls (at least some boys who talked to some girls—it was a complex system) got teased. A lot.

When the bell rang, Frieda and Susan trudged silently to Room 2. Miss Fondevant was standing at the door, so they were obliged to greet her as they passed inside. There was a big black bow on James Phillip’s desk, as though he’d gotten the most awful birthday present ever. Susan rolled her eyes at Frieda, who stared back like a frightened rabbit.

All the children gave the empty desk sidelong glances. Susan noticed the compartment under the seat was completely cleaned out: all James Phillip’s drawings and old papers and books and notebooks, gone. The desk looked as if it had been scrubbed.

No black for Miss Fondevant; she wore powder blue and tiny gold earrings to match the gold ring she always wore on her right hand, the one with the three pink roses on it. Susan had always admired the ring. She wondered if Miss Fondevant would say anything about what had happened on Friday, but she didn’t. She took attendance just as usual, her voice calm and cool.

The intercom crackled on. Mr. Kosper’s voice announced,
“Teachers, please take your classes to the auditorium.”
Jillian, who had the desk to the right of James Phillip’s, was already tearful.

Because they were in Miss Fondevant’s class, they were in the position of being chief mourners. None of the children jostled or joked in line on their way to the auditorium.

The teachers had all had special instructions, Susan could tell, because none of them sat with their children. Instead, they all stood against the auditorium wall close to their classes. Susan wondered if they stood apart so they could watch their students better. She’d managed to maneuver next to Frieda in line so they could sit together. Since Miss Fondevant was looking at the stage, Susan felt free to look at her teacher. She whispered, “She doesn’t look upset.”

“Shut up,” Frieda whispered back urgently.

Susan had never been spoken to like that, especially not by her best friend. She almost replied, but she saw that Miss Fondevant’s gaze was moving in her direction. She looked straight ahead and kept her lips pressed together.

Mr. Kosper stepped up to the podium. He was tall and skinny with big black-framed glasses, and he was not married, which made a few single teachers hopeful. Susan kind of liked Mr. Kosper, who usually wore bright ties with cartoon characters on them and usually smiled a lot. Today, Mr. Kosper wore a black tie and a somber look.

“Most of you knew James Phillip his whole life,” he said. “Some of you went to church with him at Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Church. Some of you played with him. What you didn’t know about
James Phillip was that he had just gotten diagnosed with a serious illness. His doctor thought James Phillip had a Wilms’ tumor.” Mr. Kosper had been looking down to read the unfamiliar term. He missed the startled flicker of movement from many of the students. None of them had known.

“James Phillip was taking medicine,” Mr. Kosper continued. “In his math book, he had a note for Miss Fondevant from his mom, describing his illness and requesting Miss Fondevant to let him go to the restroom any time he needed, or to the nurse’s room to see Mrs. Marks. And James Phillip’s mother called the school Friday morning and talked to Mrs. Marks and to me.” Mr. Kosper took a deep breath. Mrs. Marks, the school nurse, was patting her eyes with a tissue. “But James Phillip got sicker faster than anyone expected. He forgot to give his note to Miss Fondevant. And everything went wrong after that. Now we’re all going to miss James Phillip.”