Witherwood Reform School (17 page)

“My clothes!” Charlotte said with excitement.

He handed Charlotte the clothes she had been wearing when she came to Witherwood.

“When they gave us uniforms, we just left these in the washroom. And since nobody but us ever goes in there, I hid them in one of the showers.”

Charlotte practically squealed. “Turn around and close your eyes.”

She changed into her clothes and then kept her eyes shut as Tobias changed into his. They tossed their uniforms with gusto into the corner of their room. It made things seem much more hopeful—Tobias in his red hoodie and Charlotte in her green HOPE shirt.

“Feel better?” Tobias asked.

“Worlds. Let's do this.”

Tobias and Charlotte stood at the door and listened for voices. They traveled up the hall to Fiddle's door. Tobias unlocked it.

“What if Fiddle shoots us for sneaking in?”

“At least we won't have to do dishes tomorrow.”

That was good enough for Charlotte. Once they were both in the room, Tobias closed the door and turned on the light. The curtains were closed around Fiddle's bed, and they could hear an uneasy sniffling.

“Fiddle?” Tobias said softly. “Fiddle, are you in there?”

There was no reply.

“It's me, Tobias, and my sister, Charlotte.”

There was still no reply.

“We were here last week, remember?” Tobias tried.

“Maybe that's not him in there,” Charlotte whispered.

“It is. I can smell him.”

Tobias stepped carefully toward the bed and pulled back the curtains. Fiddle was lying there with his head resting on his duck-printed pillows. He was wearing a long black nightshirt over shorts and pinching the top of his nose. He smiled at Tobias with his wide mouth.

“Hello, imagination,” Fiddle said kindly. “You're back. I guess the lock on my door isn't working?”

“I made a key,” Tobias explained.

Fiddle sat up and swung his legs so that they were hanging off the side of the bed. His green eyes sparkled, and his long dark hair appeared even stringier than before. There was a tray of empty plates and glasses at the end of his bed. He pushed the tray back and yawned.

“I like that,” he said. “I've got a pretty interesting imagination.”

“You didn't make us up,” Charlotte insisted.

“I think it's cool how you both have different voices,” Fiddle said. “Lots of times my thoughts all sound the same.”

“I guess that's cool,” Tobias said, pulling at the back of his own hair.

“Actually, I need your help. Would you do me a favor and get me a pen?” Fiddle asked. He pointed at a large chest of drawers near the wall. “Top drawer and hurry, please.”

Tobias stepped to the dresser and opened the top drawer. It was filled with ballpoint pens of all colors and sizes. Tobias took a couple and put them in his pocket. He then grabbed a blue one and brought it back. Instantly Fiddle began to click the top of the pen.

Click, click, click
.

“Are you going to write something down?” Charlotte asked.

“No,” Fiddle said, knitting his eyebrows together. “I'm always surprised how many of the things inside my head are unaware of my problem.”

“Problem?” Tobias asked.

“I can't seem to stop fiddling with things,” Fiddle said, clicking the pen. “Some doctors call me obsessive compulsive. It's kinda like how you're messing with your hair.”

Tobias was immediately embarrassed.

“Not a big deal,” Fiddle said in a friendly tone. “You tug your hair, I fiddle with things. That's why they call me what they do—my real name's Clyde.”

“I like Fiddle better,” Charlotte said.

“Yeah, me too,” Fiddle said as he rapidly clicked the top of the pen. “Hey, maybe subconsciously that's why I still do it, just to keep the name. Interesting, I think we've had a real breakthrough here tonight. Of course you two should know more about the condition of my mind, seeing how you came from my thoughts.”

Click, click, click.

“We came through the door,” Charlotte reminded him.

“Fiddle,” Tobias said seriously, “we need to talk about something else.”

Fiddle closed his eyes and massaged his forehead with his left hand.

After thirty seconds of awkward silence, Tobias asked, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Fiddle answered. “I was just seeing if I could tell what you were going to say by looking around in my head. Something about the parade?”

“No, although you did a good job sitting on that float.”

“Thanks. Actually, they make me participate. My uncle used to sit up there, but he stopped doing that years ago.”

“That's great,” Tobias said, frustrated. “What I wanted to talk about is when we were last here, you said you knew something about getting off the mesa.”

“I did?” Fiddle asked, confused.

“This is going to end badly,” Charlotte sighed.

“No, wait.” Tobias turned his focus back to Fiddle. “Listen, Fiddle, you said something right before Ms. Gulp took us out—something about a way to get out, something about a door.”

“To be honest, I can't remember half the things I say,” Fiddle admitted. “But if you really want to get out, just take the tunnel. It has a door on it.”

“Tunnel?” Tobias and Charlotte asked in unison.

“Sure,” Fiddle said. “It'll take you right down and off the mesa.”

“Where is it?” Tobias asked, his heart beginning to race.

“Behind the school. Over by that tree.”

“What tree?”

“The one with the crooked branch. Out back behind Witherwood, where the mesa starts to slope downward. Near the spring. It's the tree where that squirrel used to live.”

Click, click, click.

“Please,” Charlotte begged. “Do you think you could stop clicking that pen?”

“Forget the pen,” Tobias said. “Can you take us to the tunnel?”

“I don't go out much,” he reminded them. “Plus, my uncle told me to stay here.”

“Marvin?” Tobias asked.

“Yeah, that's him.”

“When did he say that?”

“A couple of years ago,” Fiddle answered.

Click, click, click.

“Here,” Charlotte said anxiously as she pulled an elastic ponytail holder from her skirt pocket. “Can you mess with this instead of that pen? Twist it and pull it, but just stop clicking.”

Fiddle looked at the small black band and shrugged. He dropped the pen and immediately began twisting and stretching Charlotte's hair tie.

“Do you ever listen to the voices in your head?” Tobias asked.

“Sometimes,” Fiddle admitted.

“Well, this voice is telling you to take us to that tunnel,” Tobias said.

“We can't get out of the building,” Fiddle reminded them. “They chain the outer doors at night.”

“I think I know a way.”

Fiddle smiled. “I forgot about my great imagination. It looks like I've thought of everything.”

“Yes,” Charlotte said. “You've been a tremendous help.”

“I really have,” Fiddle agreed.

The hallway was empty, and there were no singing voices. The three of them crept quietly in the direction of the kitchen. While creeping, Fiddle asked if they were helping him or if he was helping them. Charlotte laughed in the way that someone might laugh when she discovers she has gotten a flat tire or lost some money, more out of frustration than humor.

“There's no way this is going to work,” she said.

Fiddle looked down at her and smiled. “You're like the negative part of my imagination.”

Charlotte wanted to reply, but the only things she could think to say were negative. Tobias spoke for her.

“She's just reminding us that it's going to take a bit of luck to make this work.”

“Well then, I'll wish for a bit of luck. I like adventure, even though I know my uncle wouldn't approve of this.”

“Good,” Tobias said. “That probably means we're on the right course.”

They walked down the hall toward the kitchen as they proceeded on the right or, quite possibly, the wrong course.

 

CHAPTER 20

T
HE
S
QUIRREL
T
REE

Witherwood seemed guarded and afraid. It felt as if the walls were coiling in tighter to protect whatever it was the school was hiding.

“Tell me if you hear anything,” Tobias said to Charlotte.

“It's raining outside.”

“I can smell that.”

“It sounds like the hall is empty for the moment,” she added. “I can hear voices singing, but they seem to be in the other halls and growing distant.”

“Good. As long as they believe we're still under the spell of Marvin's voice, they won't expect us to escape.”

Fiddle kept his head down and moved with a catlike stealth as he followed Tobias and Charlotte. They passed the large double doors that led out behind the school. As expected, the doors were secured with chains.

“Are you doing okay?” Tobias whispered to Fiddle.

“Silly imagination. You know I am. I'm actually having a way better time than I thought I would tonight.”

They walked through Weary Hall and turned into Never Hall, where the cathedral-like cafeteria was. The lights were off. The place was empty and still.

“Come on,” Tobias said.

He led Charlotte and Fiddle to the kitchen and down into the cellar. Tobias grabbed a small flashlight that Ms. Gulp used when she was down there. They followed the large pipes that ran to the back of the cellar and up out of Witherwood. Where the pipes exited the building was a set of stone stairs that looked as if they led directly into the ceiling. Only it wasn't the ceiling. It was two metal doors that were used for deliveries. The sound of rain falling against the doors was almost calming; the sight of a chain twisting through the door handles was not. A padlock dangled from the chain like some sort of metallic mistletoe that people were supposed to cry under.

Tobias didn't cry—he swore. As far as swear words go, it wasn't the worst one in the world, but it had bite to it. “I was hoping they didn't padlock these doors. I thought they'd forget the cellar. It's never chained in the day.”

“This was your escape plan?” Charlotte asked. “You know that they secure all the doors at night. They're trying to keep us in, remember?”

“Technically, that's not true,” Fiddle said. “They're trying to keep things out.”

“That's just what they tell everyone to keep us in here,” Tobias insisted.

Charlotte climbed the stairs to inspect the lock. Her brother had been the one to open locks before, but now it was her turn. Holding the padlock next to her right ear, she twisted the old dial clockwise.

“Can you hear that?” she asked.

“No,” the boys answered.

Charlotte turned the lock some more. “You can't hear that click?”

They shook their heads this time.

“My hearing has gotten so much stronger since I've been here,” Charlotte said in disbelief. She turned the lock a few more times and then, with one quick jerk, she pulled the padlock open.

“Nice!” Tobias whispered.

It's interesting how everyone has different gifts. You might be remarkable at guessing people's weight, or perhaps you're a gifted whistler, or maybe you're just a supertalented TV watcher. Good for you. It's important to note, however, that Tobias's and Charlotte's abilities to smell and hear were becoming more superpowers than gifts. They were good at other things, but something about Witherwood was making their senses otherworldly.

Charlotte unwrapped the chain from around the handles and set it on the stone stairs. The chain was off, but the delivery doors were still locked. Tobias tried his key, but the lock was different than the others in Witherwood.

“I need a knife or something.”

“That would take too long,” Fiddle said. “Move aside.”

Fiddle ran up the stairs, and with all his strength, he threw his right shoulder into the doors. The old lock popped, and the doors flew open like metal wings.

All three of them climbed the stairs and stepped out into the open. White stones lay scattered all over, glowing in the night like Easter eggs that had been forgotten. Tobias looked up at the back side of Witherwood while his sister looked out into the dark grounds behind it. There were a few other buildings and more trees than in the gardens.

“Do you still know where the tunnel door is?” Tobias asked Fiddle.

“I do.”

“Wait,” Charlotte said, worried. “I'm not sure we should go out there. Remember what was in front of the school?”

“I know. We'll have to move fast,” Tobias said. “Let's just hope all the animals are at the front.”

“They're not,” Fiddle said. “They're all over the mesa.”

“Are you trying to scare us?” Charlotte asked.

“No,” Fiddle said casually. “It's funny that my imagination is worried about animals. It's always been the Catchers that concern me most.”

“Catchers?” Tobias asked with extreme curiosity.

“Yeah, they bring the students here,” Fiddle answered. “But don't worry about that now. I don't think anyone will care about my imagination wandering off.”

Charlotte stared at Fiddle, worried about him almost as much as herself.

“I don't understand,” Tobias whispered. “Catchers? What are they? Nobody caught us.”

“Sure,” Fiddle said. “You're not real.”

“But there is a tunnel, right?” Charlotte asked.

“I didn't realize I was so doubtful,” Fiddle said, staring at Charlotte. “Yes, there's a tunnel. Come on.”

Rain danced on their hair and shoulders as they walked. They passed three smaller buildings that looked abandoned. Beyond those buildings were more trees. The air smelled like cedar.