Story Time (6 page)

Dr. Austin restrained his wife with a firm hand and placed the other on the quivering shoulder of George Melvil. He assured him, "That kind of talk is nonsense, George. Absolute palaver. I have worked in this building for my entire adult life, and I give you my word, as a nationally renowned educator, that nothing abnormal, paranormal, supernatural, or preternatural has ever occurred within these walls."

He clapped George on the shoulder, signaling an end to the discussion. Then he turned to include Kate. "I know it's late, but I have one more treat in store for you young people. While my wife runs some credit checks on the grown-ups, you two will enjoy my personal tour of the building."

A flight of cement stairs took them down to the seventh-floor landing. The seventh floor, and every floor beneath it, contained rows of bookcases. Each case bore a sign on its endcap describing the topics and the range of Dewey decimal numbers to be found there.

Dr. Austin explained, "Our head librarian, Mrs. Hodges, is in charge of the seventh and the sixth floors. The books here are dedicated mostly to theology and philosophy."

Kate spotted Mrs. Hodges at the end of an aisle, removing an old book and carefully dusting it. She was thin and angular and dressed in a high-buttoned black dress. Her dark hair, pulled tight and hanging down her back, had a wide streak of gray in the middle, creating a skunklike effect, like someone had set out to make a coonskin cap but had used the wrong animal.

Dr. Austin led them down two more flights. "The fifth and the fourth floors are the realm of Miss Pogorzelski." Kate caught sight of a furtive figure in the stacks. She also wore a long black dress, but it was too large, and dirty, as if she had been outside jumping in puddles.

Dr. Austin's eyes searched the stacks for her. "We call her Pogo. She won't object if you call her that, too. Because to object would require her to speak, which she does not do. Pogo's sections are history and the applied sciences."

As they descended more stairs, he added, "Here's an interesting tidbit, George: Pogo and my wife, Cornelia, both grew up in this building. Pogo's father was the custodian here for fifty years, until his death."

George said, "That is interesting," without really seeming to mean it.

Kate, however, was eager to hear more. A distant glimpse had been enough for Kate to recognize the mysterious figure from two nights before. The woman at the top-floor window, outlined by the fiery red glow; the woman with the snarling power saw. It had been Miss Pogorzelski.

Dr. Austin described the third and the second floors as "literature and biography, the provinces of Walter Barnes." He then lowered his voice, as if approaching a sleeping zoo animal. "There's Mr. Barnes now."

Ahead of them, slightly to the right, was an old wooden desk bearing the sign
BOOK RETURN
. Behind the desk, in a padded chair, was the snoring figure of Walter Barnes. He was dressed in a dark brown, shiny suit. His nearly bald head was resting on a green blotter, on which was spread the half-eaten remains of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. They watched him sleep for a few seconds, then moved downstairs again.

Dr. Austin inhaled deeply as he entered the main lobby, as if to take in its vast expanse. He turned to George and challenged him. "How would you calculate the volume of this great square, George Melvil?"

"Actually, sir," George replied, "it's a great rectangular prism. To calculate its volume, I would multiply its length times its width times its height."

Dr. Austin smiled tightly. "Yes, of course. We really must get you into the science fair." He changed the subject. "The first floor is devoted to children's literature. Ten years ago we began a program called Toddler Time; it has evolved into the present Story Time with phonics. This program is, like Test-Based Curriculum, poised to become a model for the entire country."

Dr. Austin caught his own reflection in the window of the library office. He smoothed his hair and beard. Then he pointed at one last stairwell. "And now, would you like to take a look at your school?"

Dr. Austin started down to the basement without waiting for a reply. He turned right at the bottom of the stairs and led the way through a hallway of whitewashed cement walls tinged green by fluorescent lighting. He stopped at a room bearing the sign
PROTEIN LAB.
"This is Mrs. Hodges's kitchen, from which you will receive your delicious and nutritious protein shakes."

They then walked past a series of classrooms with signs such as
MATH
6
and
SOCIAL STUDIES
6. Kate thought,
This is it. This is the mushroom farm.

When Kate spotted a door that said
WORKROOM,
she spoke for the first time on the tour. "Is this where old Mr. Pogorzelski died?"

Dr. Austin appeared surprised that Kate was still there. "Yes," he answered cautiously. "Yes, it is. Mr. Pogorzelski died right in this room, on the job."

"From what?"

Dr. Austin's eyes shot to the door. "From old age. The poor man was nearly sixty when Pogo was born. He was in his nineties when he died."

They retraced their steps to the lobby with no further talk and ascended from the basement just as Cornelia, Ma, Pa, and June descended in Elevator #2.

As they waited for the elevator, Dr. Austin commented, "This building is distinguished both for what you see and for what you don't see."

Kate was startled by this sudden admission. She mouthed the word, "Ghosts?"

But Dr. Austin meant something else entirely. "Unlike many formerly great American libraries, this one has not been converted into a flophouse for the homeless."

The elevator doors opened. Ma, Pa, and June walked out ahead of Cornelia, like robbery victims. Kate and George fell in step with them, and the five family members took off, without another word, toward the exit.

Kate's brief interest in the building's mysteries vanished as soon as she hit the night air. Shortly into the ride home, she turned around in the front seat and leveled another piercing look at George. "So, George Melvil? Did he win you over? Are you going to be one of Dr. Austin's little super test takers?"

George was offended, but he tried to hide it. "No. But you must admit, he was nice to me. He treated me like somebody important."

"So what? You don't think the same thing would happen at Lincoln?"

"No, I don't think it would," George answered sincerely. "I think I'd be just another geeky little sixth grader. Someone to make fun of and to push into the lockers. Then I'd be a geeky seventh grader, and then a geeky eighth grader."

Kate couldn't think of anything to say to that. She told him, "Fine, then. You should go to the Whittaker Magnet School, for ten thousand dollars a year. If it's the best school for you, you should go there. Lincoln's the best school for me, so I should go there. For free."

George replied bluntly, "But you can't go there. You no longer live in the Lincoln school district. You live in the Whittaker district now."

"I live exactly where I've always lived!"

"But the district lines have changed, and there's nothing you can do about it. It's over, Kate. What's done is done."

Kate stared at him angrily for five more seconds, then she turned away. As they drove along next to the dark river, she thought about her uncle's words,
What's done is done.
She answered them silently:
And what's done can be undone, too. Some way. Somehow.

The first day at the Whittaker Magnet School began with an assembly in the lobby. Dr. Austin made some remarks about the school's "national championship test scores." He read aloud e-mails from the state's governor, two senators, and seven representatives congratulating Whittaker on its success. He urged everyone to "keep Whittaker's winning streak going."

Kate wasn't really listening until she heard him say, "It is especially important for indigent students, such as Kate Peters and George Melvil, to use every minute here wisely. Their parents will be performing menial tasks right here in front of them in hopes that young Kate and George can someday lead better lives."

Kate could only look down at her feet, so complete was her humiliation. George whispered, "It's going to be okay, Kate."

"No, it isn't. Didn't you hear him? He just made us the poster kids for poverty."

Dr. Austin next introduced the school's teachers, but not by name. He called them simply "the Dozen." The Dozen stepped forward and formed a straight line in front of the students. Each teacher wore an identification badge showing his or her subject and grade. Each held out a list of names at arm's length, like a medieval proclamation.

The returning Whittaker students knew what to do, and George followed their lead. He approached all the teachers with 6s on their badges
—MATH
6,
SOCIAL STUDIES
6,
READING
6, and
SCIENCE
6. He found his name on each teacher's list and noted when he was scheduled to attend each class.

Kate remained sitting in her chair amid the swirl of students. George knew better than to talk to her at that moment. Instead, he approached the teachers with 8s on their badges and compiled Kate's schedule for her. Then he sat down and asked her gently, "Are you going to be okay?"

"No."

"What can I do to help you?"

"Uncle George, what if I just walked out of here and took a bus to Lincoln?"

"They wouldn't let you register at Lincoln. Taxpayers' dollars for the education of Kate Peters go to Whittaker now."

"This can't be happening. I'm supposed to be at Lincoln. With normal kids. There must be a way out of here."

"There might be. But for now, you're stuck. You have to accept that."

The lobby grew quiet as students poured down the stairwell, like grain down a chute. George pressed Kate's schedule into her hand. "You start with math eight; I start with math six. Then we move to social studies eight and six, reading eight and six, and science eight and six. After that, we go home. Okay?"

Kate looked at the empty lobby and the gaping hole of the stairwell. "We wouldn't go home at Lincoln. We'd go to play practice, or band practice, or soccer practice." She sighed deeply and then trudged down to the basement with George.

George spotted his math 6 classroom and ducked inside. Kate continued down three corridors, under sputtering fluorescent lights, until she found math 8.

She walked in and took the last available seat, all the way in the back, in the row farthest from the door. She looked around at the room. The walls were whitewashed rectangular blocks, completely bare. Then she looked at her classmates. The lights gave them all an unhealthy greenish pallor. Aside from a big goofy boy who had to move his feet to let her pass, none made eye contact with her. She decided that she would have no friends here. These were not her people. These were Mushroom Children.

Kate heard a rattling sound out in the corridor, joined by the squeak of metal wheels. Then Dr. Austin entered, talking rapidly. "Good morning, students. It is nearly time to begin today's testing. But, first, whenever you see this rolling refrigerator, you know that you are in for a treat!"

He pointed to the open doorway. Kate could barely make out the stiff figure of Mrs. Hodges, posed with her hands atop a steel coffinlike contraption.

"Mrs. Hodges and her assistant, Pogo, make delightful energy drinks for you right here in the basement's Protein Lab. Here at Whittaker, we are pioneering the use of herbal derivatives—ginseng, Ginkoba, gotu kola—just to name a few. The human brain is a unique machine. It needs its own special fuel to keep it running smoothly." He faced the doorway and called, "Thank you, Mrs. Hodges," prompting her to push the rattling refrigerator farther down the hall.

Dr. Austin turned again to the class. "Let me explain your seating arrangement. It has been worked out with mathematical precision, again to optimize your performance on assessments.

"You will sit in four rows; each row will have four desks." Dr. Austin came to a stop at the head of the row closest to the door. "Traditionally, this first seat in the first row belongs to the student who achieves the highest test scores the preceding week. Conversely"—Dr. Austin pointed to the seat that Kate had chosen—"the last seat in the last row belongs to the student who received the lowest test scores."

Then Dr. Austin addressed the teacher for the first time. "Now, Math Eight, I will leave you to your duties."

Kate turned her attention to her first-period teacher. She was pretty, Kate thought. She was dressed in a dark blue blazer with matching skirt and a white blouse.

Kate relaxed a little, expecting to hear about classroom procedures, rules, objectives, and so on. Instead she heard, "Please take out two sharpened number-two pencils." Math 8 then passed out a pile of booklets.

When Kate got hers, she read the cover:
The New Jersey Test of Basic Math Skills.
She leaned toward the goofy boy and hissed, "What's this? We have a test on the first day?"

He shot a fearful glance at Math 8. Then he whispered, without moving his head, "Well, yeah. We have a test every day. In every class. That's what we do."

Kate broke into a grin. "You can't be serious."

The boy did not respond.

Kate's grin faded slowly. Then, like every other student in her classroom and every other student in the school, she opened the test booklet and began to bubble in answers.

The students worked in silence for fifty-five minutes, after which Math 8 announced, 'Torn: time is up. Put down your pencils." She led them back through the test, page by page, revisiting each question and demonstrating how to find the correct answer.

Then a soft bell intoned, and Kate got up and filed next door, in step with the Mushroom Children.

A well-dressed woman in the next classroom briefly introduced herself as Social Studies 8. Then she announced, "We will not be testing today. Instead, we will be taking a field trip upstairs to the County Commission Room. Before we do, please make note of your first essay topic. The essay, in five-paragraph format, is due to me on Friday." Social Studies 8 held up an index card and read out: "Why the Homeless Should Be Banned from Public Libraries."