destroyed to protect his final whereabouts.
Reginald had found a tablet early in his career buried in a tomb that mentioned Kutkara and his reign of terror. Unfortunately, the tablet was broken into multiple pieces, so that its words had severed in such a way that it only revealed a piece of the legend. It only served to fuel an obsession that lasted Reginald's entire life.
Reginald did the impossible. He found Kutkara's tomb, and when Reginald should have been celebrating, tragedy struck, first with Marty’s mom’s disappearance and now his own unexplained illness. It seemed Kutkara was still greedy, even in the afterlife, demanding flesh in return for his unearthing.
They left the room, silent as they headed downstairs for dinner. Marty pushed his food around on an antique plate that was probably older than his grandfather. It felt weird to be eating on something so expensive, but then again, he really wasn’t doing much eating. Even though he was starving not even an hour ago, his appetite vanished after seeing his grandfather.
Margarete entered the dining room, balancing a fresh blueberry pie in her mitted hands. With a soft hum, she set it down on the dining table before turning to clear their dinner plates. Her every move was efficient and orderly, anticipating their needs even before they did.
“Margarete, dinner was simply amazing. We’re so lucky to have you here, not only caring for Reginald, but for us too.” Richard smiled as she began to slice an extra large piece of pie for him. It seemed his father’s appetite was still intact.
“It’s my pleasure,” Margarete said with a wave of her hand, her cheeks pinking at his praise. “It’s a relief to have the extra mouths to feed. I’m used to caring for much larger families, so this has been a new experience all together.” Her smile dimmed some as she turned to Marty, noting his untouched food. “Aren't you hungry Marty?”
He just shrugged wordlessly as he pushed his food about with his fork. He waited for her to leave before looking up at his father, who was watching him, eyes carefully blank..
“I'm going to the museum tomorrow morning to see what needs to be straightened out. Until your grandfather is better, it looks like I will be sorting through the incoming shipments.” Richard wiped at the corners of his mouth with his napkin, his movements careful and precise. “We can head over to your new school tomorrow morning to get you enrolled. I don't want you getting behind in your studies.”
“Great,” Marty replied woodenly, not caring about his new school or his father’s attempts at small talk. He just wanted to stop seeing his grandfather every time he closed his eyes. Stop hearing his labored breathing every time the room went silent. The scent of death has taken root in him and he couldn’t shake it free.
“It won't be that bad. Besides, it's your mother's old school. You are walking into a piece of family history. For generations the Babsfy's have been going to the Alexander Montgomery High School. If we hadn’t moved for your mother’s work,” he trailed off, silence stretching between them, before clearing his throat. “Well, you would have grown up here and would have been attending the same schools she did.”
“But we did move, before I was even born. I don’t know anything about this place and I don’t want to go to a new school. I just want everything to go back the way it was.” Marty wanted to say more, but he knew it was useless. Nothing he said would change the fact that this was his new home, or that his mom was missing, and his grandfather was possibly dying upstairs. Everything he wanted to say dried up in his throat as Margarete came back into the room, clearing the rest of the plates.
His father continued, unperturbed. “You'll have to get measured for uniforms and we’ll need to stop for new supplies. Why don’t I pick you up around 10 o'clock?”
“Fine.” Marty replied, cringing at the thought of having to wear some stupid uniform.
So far, Maine was exactly how he thought it would be. Awful.
The next morning, Marty and his father stood in the school office filling out paperwork. He’d had to sign his name so many times that his hand started to cramp. He felt completely out of place, even though he was the only one that looked normal. The uniforms were awful. Navy blue pants, a pale blue dress shirt, and a hunter green vest. They even have to wear ties.
Marty finished signing his name for what seemed like the hundredth time on the stack of papers, his signature an unrecognizable scrawl by the time he was finished. They even had him sign an honor code agreement as if they were assuming right off the bat that he was going to be nothing but trouble. Signing it made him feel like a public school reject that wasn’t worthy. Just because they wore goofy looking uniforms it didn’t make them any better than he was.
The door that led to the principal's office opened. The boy who walked out was tall, his brown hair combed to the side. He took one look at Marty and sneered, his mouth curving into a nasty smile that seemed to fit his too perfect features. Marty raised his brow. Great, if this is the welcoming committee then he was definitely in trouble.
“Good morning,” a tall man with the same perfectly coifed hair as the boy walked over to them, shaking their hands as he introduced himself as Principal Peachtree. He clasped his hand on the shoulder of the boy, drawing him reluctantly to his side. “This is my son, Marcus. He’s also a freshman Marty, so if you need any help finding your way around school, he will be more than happy to point you in the right direction. Who knows, you two might become great friends.”
Marty and Marcus stared at one another warily, neither boy saying a word until Marty finally spoke first, the silence becoming uncomfortable. “Hey, I’m Marty.”
Marcus ignored him, slipping out from his father’s arm to swing his backpack over his shoulder as he headed out the office door. “I need to get back to class, later dad.” He nodded to his father not bothering to say a word to Marty or his father.
Marty instantly disliked him. It was one thing to be a jerk, but that kid was a soulless jerk with the careful smile of someone who tortured insects, and he was the principal’s son. Even better.
Principal Peachtree seemed unfazed, turning to Marty and his dad with a wide smile. “Marty, believe it or not, I went to school with your mother. It almost seems like yesterday that it was us walking these hallways. We were on the school paper together. I’ll have to dig out the archives to show you.” Principal Peachtree’s smile faded slightly, looking uncomfortable. People never knew what to say about his mother. Marty counted the awkward seconds. “So, what do you think of our school so far?”
“It's all right,” Marty replied, not sure what to say. They barely seen anything besides the office and the principal’s son. So far, things weren’t looking that great.
“I know it’s a big change, but don’t make up your mind just yet Marty. This school truly is an amazing place, large enough to give you space to grow, but small enough to feel like a tight-knit family. I’m proud to be the principal here, and I think that with time, you’ll be proud to be one of our students.”
Principal Peachtree led them into the wide hallway, his voice taking on the well-honed quality of a salesman going into a famous sales pitch. “This establishment is more than just brick and stone. Think of it like a finely-oiled machine, one whose methods have been proven by the success of our graduates, many of them transitioning to Ivy League schools following graduation. Our academic program is the best on the East Coast, and our arts and music division is the best in the state. If you like sports, well, we offer everything from football to lacrosse.”
“We don’t put limits on your potential here. Rather, we encourage you to break the mold of what you believe you can do and aspire higher. The next person to travel to outer space or become the President could very well be sitting in one of these classrooms, and it’s this school’s duty to ensure that every student here has access to the finest education we can offer. I know it sounds longwinded, but I really am proud of our school, and I hope you'll come to think of the teachers and students here as an extended part of your family.”
Ma
rty wondered if this guy was for real or what? His speech sounded too good to be true, and Marty never trusted anything too shiny and perfect. There was always a downside, whether you were looking for it or not. That much his grandfather had taught him and it always proved to be true. Traps didn’t just exist in tombs, but in real life too.
Marty nodded, following Principal Peachtree as he continued down the hall, stopping to show them the library and the school gym. He shot a look at his dad and quickly smothered his groan. He was busy nodding along, a bright smile on his face. His dad fell for the sales pitch, hook, line, and sinker.
“Well, I’ve talked enough,” Principal Peachtree grinned at Marty. “Why don’t we get you measured for your uniforms and then you'll be all set to go. How does that sound?”
“Great, I can't wait,” Marty replied, thinking that he would rather walk over hot coals or have his teeth extracted without Novocain. Whether he liked it or not, he was now the newest student at Alexander Montgomery High School, ugly uniforms and all.
Marty had suffered through the uniform fitting with gritted teeth, yanking down his shirt every time it was yanked up and defending his chucks when Mrs. Eckhart, the school seamstress, clucked down at them disapprovingly, proudly