The Wisherman (20 page)

~

Oliver and Robert sat across from each other, awaiting room check.

“What if they find it?” Robert asked, again.

Oliver rolled his eyes to cover the fact that his heart was nearly leaping from his chest. “We’ll tell them it’s an art project.”

“We don’t have art, here.” Robert pointed out. The room door swung open at that moment, and Matron Charlie entered with two guards.

“I want full body pat downs.” She said, eyes gleaming.
Fear seized Oliver like it never had before. The guards descended onto him and Robert.

“Face me, and place your arms out parallel to the ground.
Spread your legs.” The second guard repeated the same to Robert, and both boys stood with their arms and legs apart. Oliver’s guard bent down and placed his hand firmly on Oliver’s right boot and worked his way up his leg, patting hard and fast. The guard reached his rear and torso and patted his pants pockets with extra vigor before finishing at his shoulders. Shame welled up inside of Oliver, and he looked over to Robert, whose pale face was very, very pink.

“I found something!” Robert’s guard said, triumphantly.

“No!” Robert burst out and he swiped at something the security guard dangled from his hand.

“What is it?” Matron Charlie looked as if she would start frothing at the mouth. “What is this?” Matron Charlie took the item from the guard and dangled it in front of Robert. He cast his eyes towards the floor as if he were suddenly mute.

“WHAT is this?” Matron Charlie stepped closer to him, until they were nearly touching noses. “What is this?”

“It’s knitting. It’s knitting!” Robert wailed.
Oliver blinked, at first not sure what he was looking at. From Matron Charlie’s hand hung a tiny black cloth square. In the center was a tiny, almost undetectable white dot.

“Did you do this as a part of a class assignment?” Matron Charlie boomed.

“I---maybe---I don’t know.” Robert looked like he was going to crack into a million little pieces. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“What class is this for?” Matron Charlie pressed.

“It’s not. It’s just a hobby!” Robert cried.

Matron Charlie turned to Oliver, as if she were expecting him to say something. When he did not, she turned back to Robert. “Guards, please perform a strip search.”
Robert’s facial expression morphed into one of pure terror.

Matron Charlie crossed her arms and smiled, grimly. “Turn around and remove all of your clothing. Put your hands on the wall and bend over.” The guard barked, and Oliver did as he was told. He bent over, and through his legs he could see Robert, now enveloped in a full body tremble, doing the same.
Oliver felt the guard circle his body before gruffly commenting  

“Put your clothes back on.” Oliver did so readily, and then stood with his hands behind his back before the guard. Oliver held his breath, waiting for the anticipated all clear, but it did not come.

“Robert. Come with me.” Matron Charlie said, shortly, casting a single glance back at Oliver before sweeping from the room, Robert in tow. As soon as the door shut behind them, Oliver collapsed on the bed as if the only thing that had been supporting him was pure fear. He stared at Robert’s empty bed, and a new wave of uncertainty curled up inside of him, lapping at his conscious.

He waited up for several hours for Robert to return, wiping sleep from his eyes and staring determinedly at his bad as if it could will him back. When his watch struck midnight, and Robert had yet to return, Oliver felt sleep approach him hard and fast.
Soon enough, his nightmares took him.

The cornfield met Oliver like an old enemy, and as soon as he realized where he was, he started running. He heard the flapping of crow wings behind him and he tried to quicken his pace only to realize that he was running slower than ever.
The crows swarmed him, circling high in the sky before pummeling him with their beaks. One crow opened his mouth, and instead of the high pitched caw, a sob came out. Then, another crow opened his mouth, adding a high pitched wail. Then one by one every single crow open his mouth, creating a chorus of the most horrific and painful sounds Oliver had ever heard in his life. It sounded like death and Oliver crouched on the ground and covered his ears with his hands, but it was no use. It was if the sounds weren’t coming from the crows, but instead from Oliver himself.

Suddenly, a barrage of loud noise drifted into the room, sending Oliver flying
from his dream and towards the door in a flurry of curiosity and confusion. He rushed out into the hallway and made his way towards a crowd of boys clustered in the study room. As Oliver neared, he wiped his eyes again in sheer disbelief. Before him, on the study hall glass, was a giant, graffiti drawing of Dean Tenbrook with devil horns and a tail. Dean Tenbrook’s figure was done in all black, and the devil horns in bright, bright red. Noticing several boys pointing at the bottom of the drawing, Oliver grew closer. At the very bottom, in tiny cursive letters, where an artist’s signature would go on a painting, were the words “The Disciples”.

Heels clacked across the wooden floor, and suddenly the crowd parted faster than seemed humanly possible. Matron Charlie walked down the row of boys, taking a long look at each one, her face unreadable. Upon making her way to the end of the line, she stood in front of the portrait, back turned to the boys for
a long time. When she finally turned, Oliver felt his breath catch in his throat. Her eyes had narrowed to nearly invisible slits and her lips were pursed.

“Who is responsible for this?” Not a single boy moved or breathed, it felt like. And more importantly, not a single boy looked Matron Charlie in the eye. “You have twenty four hours to slip a name under my door, anonymously. Otherwise, you will all be punished.
Everyone back to your rooms. Now.” Matron Charlie sent one last hard look towards the boys, sending everyone scattering back towards their rooms, before clacking away with speed that betrayed her calm demeanor.

             
Oliver awoke the following morning and realized with a start that Robert had not returned yet. His bed was in the exact same state---half made---as it had been when he’d left. The cup of tea Robert made every night before bed sat on his nightstand, long cold.

Oliver
threw on his clothes and hurried down to the dining hall. He turned the corner, half hoping that Robert would be there as usual, nursing his morning coffee. But his spot remained dreadfully empty, and it was in this moment that Oliver truly became afraid. He passed by the breakfast line, having no mind for food at the moment, and joined the table.

Malachi poked at a bowl of oatmeal with his spoon, while
Alex kept glancing behind him, fingers crossed. “They’re putting out the new eggs in ten minutes. I asked.” Malachi noted, staring directly into his bowl.

“
Guys.” Oliver said, his voice low and urgent.  Owen looked up from his bowl of cereal. “They took Robert.” Malachi’s spoon clattered into his bowl, and Gabriel grabbed his hand and gestured slowly and discreetly at the balcony above.

“How, why?” Malachi spluttered. Oliver sighed and recounted the entire story.

“They stripped searched you?” Gabriel looked appalled.

“Did they, you?”
Oliver asked.

Gabriel shook his head. “It’s safe.”

“But Robert’s not.” Oliver swallowed painfully. He could only imagine how afraid Robert was. He didn’t exactly handle stress with grace.

“And the sabotage. We told everyone to stop. Who didn’t get the memo?” Alex said, irritated. Oliver looked around cafeteria. Every table was full, and nothing was amiss.

“We could just slip her a name, Oliver. Pick somebody.” Malachi said. Oliver shrank back in response.

“Guys. We have no idea who did this. We don’t want to frame anybody for something they didn’t do.”

“So what’s going to happen to Robert?” Malachi countered.

Oliver swallowed
again, and his throat felt like he had just downed a cup of extremely hot coffee. “Maybe they just wanted to talk to him.”

“What if he cracks?” Gabriel leaned forward. “You know he might.”

Oliver suddenly felt defensive. “He would never rat us out. We’re his friends.” He looked around the table, silently daring anyone to deny that.

Owen coughed. “It’s not safe for us here, anymore. We have to start going.”

“When?” Gabriel asked.

“We’ll need a distraction. The right opportunity.”

“How?”

Owen shook his head. “I don’t know. But we have to be ready.”

Chapter 11

“That’s right. I want every inch of this place scrubbed and clean.” A pair of black kitten heels stared Oliver directly in the face as he scrubbed the bottom of the study room glass with a tiny sponge.

“But we already cleaned it.” A weak voice rose from somewhere among the bent backs.

“Oh? Are you saying you’re done here?”

“Well…” The boy responded, his voice sounding even smaller than it did the first time. Oliver was certain that who
mever was speaking wished they could simply disappear.

“Well, since you’re done here, let’s move on. The whole building is dirty, and we’ve got all night.” Charlie’s voice was sharp and smug, and as she clacked away, a chorus of groans rose from the crowd, only to be silenced by a “Quiet!” from down the hall.

When Oliver got back to his room, he cringed at the sight of his hands which were swollen and stiff at the knuckles.
Seconds later, Malachi blew in.

“They did it again!”
Everyone charged out into the hallway, and hurried towards the glass study room. In the exact spot previously home to the devil drawing was a large black X. The dorm spent the remainder of the short night cleaning the X, and anything else Matron Charlie found necessary. Her temper had a hairpin trigger now, and Oliver kept his head down. A boy from the second floor that Oliver did not know complained to him that they needed a sentry as they scrubbed walls side by side. “Because the vandalism was out of control….” He said, haughtily. Oliver nodded. He had no earthly idea just how true his words were.

The first week
of classes after Thanksgiving Break marked a drastic change in morale. Several days had passed since Robert had last been seen, and Oliver’s mood sunk lower and lower as he realized that something terrible must have happened. If felt as if a large rain cloud had taken up residence above every student’s head. Every meal was taken nearly silently, as if Robert had taken with him not just himself, but the joy of the entire group. Occasionally, Alex would ask for the salt and pepper. Owen would give it to him, and then both would turn back to their plates as if they didn’t know one another. With every room check and search, his classmates grew more and more silent. It was if they were all waiting for his word, and he desperately wished that he had something to tell them.

December 7
th
was Oliver’s fifteenth birthday. He woke on that day feeling particularly sorry for himself. He imagined that it was a reflex of sorts. His birthdays never were cause for fanfare, and this year was no exception, he thought, as he gazed upon Robert’s made bed. Matron Charlie forced him to make it during room check, and as he did, he’d had the morbid thought that he was preparing a death bed of sorts.

Oliver arrived at breakfast to a dismal scene. Alex was reading the newspaper, and Gabriel stirred milk into his coffee at a painstakingly slow pace. He joined the table, and not a single head turned.

“It’s my birthday today.” Oliver said, quietly. He wanted to tell someone, because then maybe it would become worth remembering. Gabriel nodded slightly, although Oliver couldn’t tell whether he was nodding off into his coffee or nodding from recognition. Malachi ruffled the paper he was reading. Oliver stared down at his plate full of eggs. They were too runny and too yellow and sad, just like everything else. He wondered, with a sudden burst of intellectual clarity, if this was the true punishment. If scrubbing floors was simply the distraction, and the real punishment for daring to speak up and out was this. The slow, oppressive sleepy sadness that approached slowly, and hid in plain sight. It was hard to spot because it wasn’t hiding. It simply was. It lay like a blanket over the heart and soul of all the Delafontaine boys, suffocating under the guise of comfort.

The intercom crackled on, and slowly the cafeteria began to stir. Malachi put his paper down, face as blank as the
new crossword puzzle in the Living section. Gabriel looked up from his stirring.

“Attention all students. There will be a mandatory school assembly in the basketball gym following the final class period of the day. Students are expected to arrive on time and in uniform. Room checks will be performed to ensure that every student complies. Have a great day of classes, here at Delafontaine.”

The voice finished cheerily.
For a moment, it felt as if the dining hall had been resuscitated. Malachi began speculating with Owen over what the assembly was about, and Gabriel added another sugar cube to his coffee. Other tables whispered liberally, and Oliver felt the fog lift, but only slightly. He stared at Robert’s empty chair and wondered when his birthday was.