Story Time (7 page)

Kate dutifully wrote down the topic, as did fourteen other members of her class. One did not. A skinny boy in a blazer and tie was not writing. He was leaning forward and leering at Kate. She realized then that one of the Mushroom Children in this class was Whit Austin himself.

The students rode upstairs together in the steel-lined service elevator. Whit stood right behind Kate, too close for Kate's comfort.

Upon arriving on the eighth floor, they formed a line outside the County Commission Room. Kate looked through the Plexiglas and saw Cornelia Whittaker-Austin inside speaking to a group of adults.

As the students waited, Whit casually removed a book from a case marked
PRIVATE COLLECTION—DO NOT TOUCH—THIS MEANS YOU
! He perused the contents for barely three seconds then shoved it roughly back into the case, still opened, breaking its leather spine.

Then the students filed inside and sat on folding chairs, except for Whit, who took a seat upon the white dais. Cornelia asked everyone to stand while Whit led them in the Pledge of Allegiance, with one modification. It now ended,"...with liberty and justice for all in this great building erected by the Whittakers."

The center seat on the dais was occupied by a flitty birdlike woman whose silver jewelry clanked when she moved. A sign on the table in front of her read
CHAIR, KING'S COUNTY COMMISSION
. The four remaining seats on the dais were occupied by men in suits. Signs in front of them indicated only that they were representatives of Technon Industries.

The chairwoman gaveled the meeting to order. "I am Susan Singer-Wright, chair of the County Commission. Before we begin today, my husband wants to say one little old thing. What is it, Bud?"

A portly man in a loud sports coat stood. "I just want to say a quick word to these Whittaker students. You're gonna hear about an audition that's coming up. We're looking for the right girl to play that big, lonely fish Orchid the Orca in a very special performance."

Susan rattled her wrist jewelry at him. "Now, Bud, we're going to hear more about that very special performance in just a few minutes. First, we have some exciting news from the director of Library Services for King's County and the distinguished headmaster of our wonderful Whittaker Magnet School, Dr. J. Kendall Austin."

Dr. Austin rose from his seat and stood before the students and adults in attendance. He spoke as if he were narrating a historical documentary. "On Monday of this week, Dr. J. Kendall Austin received two FedEx letters from the White House in Washington, D.C.

"The first was from the chief of staff of the First Lady of the United States." He lifted up a letter and read, "'Dear Dr. Austin: The First Lady accepts your invitation to tour the Whittaker Building on Tuesday, October sixth. The Secret Service will contact you this week to make arrangements for a preliminary security screening. We look forward to a mutually beneficial visit. Signed, Rosetta Turner.'"

He shuffled the papers. "The second letter was from the Secret Service. 'Dear Dr. Austin: The president of the United States is considering your school, the Whittaker Magnet School, to be the site of a major presidential address on education. You will be contacted soon about potential security arrangements. Signed, Special Agent James J. McCoy.'"

Cornelia leaped to her feet and started to applaud. The county commissioners followed suit. But Dr. Austin raised the letters high, a signal to quiet the celebration. "Please! Wait for the official announcement. The White House and the Secret Service like to do things their own way."

"Thank you, Doctor," Susan Singer-Wright said. "We'll all hush till we hear that announcement. Now let's move on to old business. As you all recall, we faced a lawsuit from the families of those construction workers who died here a couple of weeks back. Our county coroner has determined the facts of that case and is ready to present them to us today. Dr. Cavendar?"

A gaunt old man rose from a chair in the back. Dr. Cavendar, the King's County coroner, could have been mistaken for one of his autopsy subjects. He was ancient and unhealthily thin. He wore a threadbare black suit that looked like it had been robbed from a corpse several decades before.

The doctor made his way to the front, stepping spryly for someone his age. He faced the commissioners, moving his mouth only as much as needed. "I have completed the coroner's report on the three workers who allegedly fell to their deaths in the lobby of the King's County Library Building."

Dr. Cavendar removed an index card from his suit pocket and read from it. "The autopsy revealed that the oldest of the three men had a simple heart attack, a coronary occlusion, totally unrelated to his work on the library roof. My examination confirmed that he would have died of that heart attack at that hour, of that day, regardless of where he had been or what he was doing.

"Unfortunately, in his desperation, he clutched at two innocent coworkers. Once he latched on, he would not let go. The three of them crashed through a hole in the roof. It was, of course, entirely the first man's fault.

"Earlier this morning, the county prosecutor tried him in absentia before a grand jury. He was found guilty and convicted of two counts of first-degree manslaughter. Because of this conviction, the families of the other two workers are barred from suing King's County for damages."

Susan peered around the room. "And are any of those people here today?"

"No. I suspected a touch of tuberculosis in one of them. I had their homes quarantined until we can be sure that none of them are contagious."

Susan nodded appreciatively. "Of course. We certainly can't take any chances with the public health. Then, if there are no objections, this case is closed." Susan banged her gavel, and Dr. Cavendar started back to his seat. "Thank you, Doctor. Good work.

"Next, for you students, we have a special treat. As you know, the county commissioners select a best essay every week from the students here at Whittaker. Well, the commissioners got together over the summer, looked at all of those prize essays, and selected the best essay for
all
of last year. Once again, it's that rascal Whit Austin who won. That boy sure can write!"

Whit stood up and surveyed the crowd casually. Then he stopped. Kate realized, with a sudden chill, that he was staring at her again. He held out his hand, took a piece of paper from his mother, and read from it flatly, "'Why Higher Test Scores Mean Higher Real Estate Values,' by Cornell Whittaker Austin.

"The higher the test scores, the more people who want to move into your school district. The more people who move into your school district, the higher the tax revenues. The higher the tax revenues, the more money to invest in the schools. The more money to invest in schools, the higher the test scores." Whit handed the paper back to his mother and sat down.

"That was so compact and eloquent," Cornelia commented. "Just like Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. It combined—"

Susan pounded the gavel. Cornelia glared at her, but she stopped talking. Susan said, "Now on to new business. Our first petitioner today is Mr. Bud Wright."

Bud Wright walked forward to the dais, but he swiveled so that he could address everyone. "As all of you know, I purchased that big community swimming pool three years ago. Nobody else wanted it, so I bought it. I turned it into an educational destination, a place that fulfilled our students' science requirements and that doubled as a fun family attraction.

"Well, now Bud Wright's Swim-with-a-Dolphin Aquatic Park is officially dead. It died two weeks ago, when my old male dolphin went belly up, and my new female dolphin, as you all know, turned out to be an orca. A damn killer whale. She's swimming around that big pool right now, sucking down about a ton of seafood every day."

Susan interrupted gently. "Can the commission do anything about this?"

Bud nodded. "Yes, darlin', it can. I need a new direction for the aquatic park. Nobody wants to swim with an orca. I can tell you that. They got a bad reputation that way. But! If we could get another orca, a male mate for this here female one, we could save the park. I know we could.

"People would pay to see a married fish couple like that. And I figure, the way nature works, they'd have a baby orca soon, and that'd be real big news."

Susan pointed to the others at the dais. "Bud, tell the commissioners exactly what you want."

"I want another orca. A male. The Japanese are ready to sell me one. He's a beauty, too. Even does a jumpin' trick, so they tell me. But the U.S. government is blocking the deal."

"Why, honey?"

Bud threw his hands into the air. "They say I'm violating some cruelty-to-animals law. Like me feeding a ton of food to an orca every day is a cruel thing to do. I wish someone would feed
me
free shrimp all day. When I'm down at the Stuckey's salad bar, I gotta pay for my own."

Bud held out his arms, pleading. "I am asking the County Commission to pass a resolution stating that Bud Wright is not cruel to animals. The dolphin that died was old and sick when I got him. It's not like you get American Kennel Club papers when you buy a dolphin, you know. I thought I was buying a young dolphin. Turns out he was on his way to the tuna fish factory already." He looked out into the audience. "Where's old Doc Cavendar?"

Dr. Cavendar stood up at his seat.

"Now, Dr. Cavendar here did an autopsy on that dolphin. And he's prepared to swear that it had never been abused one day in its long, full, happy life. Ain't that right, Doctor?"

Dr. Cavendar nodded darkly.

Susan looked left and right along the dais. "Well, there it is! If our own county coroner is willing to swear to it, who are we to disagree?"

The other commissioners nodded their assent, and Susan pounded the gavel with finality.

Kate wished her uncle George were there, so she could share a sarcastic remark with him. She had to settle for the boy with the big feet sitting next to her. She muttered, "There you have it. Democracy in action."

But he replied with total sincerity. "Yeah. Gosh, isn't it great?"

Kate stared at him briefly, hoping he was kidding. Then she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling.
I am alone here,
she thought.
I am as alone as Orchid the Orca.

***

Kate's class left when second period ended. The next stop on their schedule was a high-protein lunch in the basement, but the students were blocked by a noisy altercation in the hallway. One of the librarians was upbraiding another, loudly and angrily. Kate pushed up front to see.

Mrs. Hodges was waving a book in Miss Pogorzelski's face and yelling about "Mr. Whittaker's collection." Kate recognized the book as the one Whit had mishandled.

Kate stepped forward. "Wait a minute. She didn't do it!"

Mrs. Hodges drew back, clearly unused to such talk from one of the Mushroom Children. She studied Kate's face with severe attention, like she had recently seen it on a
WANTED
poster.

Just then Cornelia emerged from the County Commission Room with Whit at her side. She observed the standoff and snapped, "Mrs. Hodges! What on earth is going on here?"

Mrs. Hodges held up the antique book She cantilevered its spine, making it flap slowly, like a dead bird.

Cornelia flew into a rage. "Who did this to my father's book?"

Mrs. Hodges looked at Kate, so Cornelia did, too. Kate raised her arm and pointed at the true culprit. "It was your son, Whit. He's the one who did it."

Cornelia instantly snapped at her. "That is not true! That is impossible. He was with me the entire time."

"No, he wasn't. He did it right before the meeting."

Mrs. Hodges held her hands out toward Kate, with her fingertips splayed, as if she were sensing Kate's aura. She announced, "I have a feeling about this one. A bad feeling."

Cornelia rounded on Kate, but she addressed Mrs. Hodges. "You do?"

"Yes. There is something wrong with this one. Something evil. Something that begins in the home."

"Do you think that
she
did this to my father's book?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."

Cornelia looked at her watch. "Fine, then. I must leave the building to run some errands. But I have an idea of what do to with such a student. A good idea. If this girl confuses priceless books with trash, let's give her some time working with real trash." Cornelia looked through the small crowd around her. "Where is your teacher?"

Social Studies 8 timidly raised her hand. "Here, Mrs. Whittaker-Austin."

"This student will spend her lunchtime hauling trash with Pogo. I think it will teach her a valuable lesson."

Social Studies 8 replied, "Yes, I agree." She turned to Kate. "Go on. You heard Mrs. Whittaker-Austin."

Kate scanned the faces of the crowd—the Mushroom Children, Mrs. Hodges, Cornelia, Whit She answered with dignity. "Fine. I'd rather haul trash with Pogo than eat lunch with any of you."

Kate held her head high as the others trooped past, leaving her and Pogo behind. Kate turned cautiously, not knowing what to expect. Pogo was staring at her curiously, tilting her head from left to right and shifting from foot to foot.

Pogo crooked a finger, indicating that Kate should follow her. The pair took off on a long walk down eight flights of stairs, across the lobby, and down another flight to the basement. There, Pogo turned right and ducked into the Protein Lab.

The Protein Lab was the same size as a classroom. It contained a wall phone, a long metal table, a sink, and two horizontal refrigerators on wheels. Pogo took hold of a large plastic-lined trash bin, also on wheels, and pushed it toward Kate. She grabbed a second bin for herself. Then, to Kate's utter surprise, she spoke:

"Sippity sup, sippity sup.
Sippity, sippity sup."

Kate said, "What was that?" but it was a question that was not to be answered. Pogo wheeled her trash bin out the door and turned left. Kate did the same, pushing the noisy, smelly container down the eerily lit hallway. They arrived at a steel door to the outside, which Pogo quickly opened. A man who had been sitting on the loading dock jumped to his feet.