"I'll say, 'No thanks.' I've been at Lincoln for two years, Uncle George. All of my friends are there. I've worked hard for the lead in the play. It's a no-duh. I am going to Lincoln."
George studied the screen for another moment. "How can this be? The lines don't run along streets, or parks, or natural boundaries. It's like this district shoots its lines out to individual houses, like it's lassoing them in with a rope."
George paused, tapping lightly against his temple. "Sorry. That's redundant. If you're lassoing something, you're already using a rope. You don't need to add 'with a rope.'"
Kate tried to change the subject. "Is dinner ready?"
"It's almost like if they find a street with a smart kid on it, it becomes part of their district. But if the next street has a dumb kid on it, it doesn't."
"Yeah, whatever." Kate's head turned at the soft dingdong of the doorbell. "That'll be Molly."
3. A Father without an Address
Kate tramped down the front stairs, through the parlor, and into the vestibule.
She opened the door to a short girl with black hair, which, although completely natural, fell in such unnaturally straight lines that it looked like a wig. The girl was accompanied by an even shorter old lady with gray hair, tied up primly in a bun. Kate said, "Hi, Molly. Hi, Mrs. Brennan."
Molly reached up to hug Kate. Then she squeezed in past Kate and turned back toward her grandmother. "Good-bye, Grandmom."
But Mrs. Brennan was not so easily dismissed. She stared Molly down. Then she redirected her gaze to Kate and asked, "How are you, dear?"
"I'm fine, Mrs. Brennan."
"Looking forward to starting school?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am. I can't wait."
"That's nice to hear." She looked past Kate's shoulder and asked, "Is your mother here?"
Kate blinked. "Yes, of course. She's making dinner."
Molly said, "Ms. Melvil will be driving me home, Grandmom."
"Who, dear?"
Molly exchanged a look with Kate. "Kate's mom."
Mrs. Brennan's cheeks flushed. "Oh. I'm sorry. I thought your mother was"—she gestured at Kate—"Peters."
Kate shook her head. "Nope. I'm the only Peters now." She tried to sound matter-of-fact. "Well, just my dad and me. The rest of them are Melvils."
"I see. I'm sorry, Kate. It's not my business to pry." She continued anyway. "But wasn't your mother named Peters, too?"
"She was. Until the divorce became final and she went back to her maiden name."
Molly said, "Anything else, Grandmom, like Kate's blood type?"
Mrs. Brennan stared her down again. "Don't be snippy, Molly. I need to know how to address Kate's mother properly when I see her."
Molly answered with practiced contrition, "Sorry."
Mrs. Brennan looked at Kate. "I'll be going now. Tell Ms. Melvil I said hello."
Kate closed the door. Molly told her, "Sorry she was so nosy."
"That's no problem, no problem at all. I really like your grandmother." Kate led the way through the parlor. The floors and walls were now shaking perceptibly. Kate added, "At least your grandmother doesn't clog."
They climbed up to the landing just as George was clicking out of the website. He asked Kate, "Do you want me to leave the map? So you can show Molly?"
Kate's face lit up with a fake, perky smile. "Molly? Do you have any interest in seeing a map of the King's County School Districts?"
"Do I look like a hopeless geek?"
"I'll take that as a no."
Yet Molly did lean forward and squint at the screen. "You're looking at the Whittaker Magnet School site." She spoke like someone familiar with the topic. "That is a very weird, ultra-geeky school. It's down in the basement of the county library." She bulged her eyeballs at Kate. "Seriously, it's in the basement, like some indoor mushroom farm. They say the kids there never see the sun."
Kate poked George. "Sounds great, eh, Uncle George?"
"I never said it sounded great."
"I haven't heard you say it sounds horrible. Which it does. It sounds like the most horrible school in the U.S.A."
"Actually, it has a reputation as one of the best schools in the U.S.A."
"See! You do want to go there. Admit it!" Kate grabbed him, playfully but firmly, by the earlobe.
George winced. "I'm just saying that if we had to go to some other school, there are worse places to go."
Kate demanded, "Name one." When George hesitated, she announced triumphantly, "Aha!" and finally let go of his ear.
Molly told Kate, "My grandmother says the Whittaker Magnet School gets written about in a lot of magazines."
"Like what? Geek World?"
"No. Like education magazines."
"Same thing."
George cupped one hand over his reddened earlobe. "The Whittaker School is modeled on a Japanes juku, an after-school program where kids go to cram for exams. Except at Whittaker, they cram all day long, too."
Kate started into her bedroom. "Like she said, it's a very geeky school."
The girls closed the door on George and his web search just as he spotted a curious hypertext link: "See also: Haunted Buildings of the Midwest." George scratched his chin thoughtfully. Then he looked over both shoulders, to ensure that he was alone, and clicked on it.
"We have our first band meeting scheduled already," Molly said. "Can you believe it? The first day of school? We're supposed to get the sheet music for Peter Pan."
Kate flopped back on her bed. "Have you heard anything about auditions?"
"Nothing official. But Lisette told me that Derek Arroyo is definitely trying out."
Kate let her tongue drop down like she was dying of thirst. "He is so hot. It'd be almost worth it to play a girl so I could kiss him onstage."
"Lisette said he wants to be Captain Hook."
"Captain Hook? Does he kiss anybody? Like, Tiger Lily?"
Molly frowned. "No. I don't think Captain Hook kisses anybody. I think he's gay. At least that guy who played him on TV was gay. I think all of the pirates were gay."
"Then why would Derek try out for it?"
"You don't have to be gay to play Captain Hook. I'm just saying that the guy who played him on TV was."
"Great. The guy I love wants to play a gay pirate. Where does that leave me? Are there any straight guys in it?"
Molly scratched her head. "Well, yes and no. The boys are, like, John and Michael Darling. But what kind of last name is that? And they wear these gay pajamas all the time, you know? Like ladies' pajamas? Except they wear black top hats with them. Nice touch."
"How about Peter Pan?"
"He's not gay, although he was played by a lady on TV. But he's supposed to be a guy. Except in that scene where he's pretending to be a lady. It's all very complicated. Think about it, Kate. Let's say Derek plays Captain Hook, and you have to kiss him. You'll be a girl pretending to be a guy, dressed as a lady, kissing a guy who may be gay. It'll ruin any relationship you two could ever have." Molly fell silent. She raised her hand to the wall to feel it vibrate. "You may as well go to that geek school."
"No way. I don't care if I have to kiss Nana the dog. I'm going to Lincoln."
"Well, what about your father? Couldn't you call him? Maybe there's something he could do."
Kate's eyes drifted to a framed photo of her father in his wedding-day tuxedo. He looked tall, handsome, and confident. "He doesn't have a phone number."
"No? Well, then, maybe you could write to him?"
Kate pressed her lips together. "He doesn't have an address."
"How can he not have an address? Everybody has an address! What, is he one of those homeless guys who lives in a big cardboard box? You know, like refrigerators come in?"
Kate's eyes flashed angrily. "He doesn't live in a cardboard box. And he's not homeless. He's a teacher."
"You never told me he was a teacher."
"You never asked."
The girls fell silent until Molly explained, "I didn't want to sound
like my grandmother. I knew your parents were divorced, but I didn't want to pump you for information. I figured you would tell me when you wanted to."
"And I've been waiting for you to ask. You should have asked."
Molly placed her hand on the vibrating wall for a long minute. Then she tried, "So, your father's a teacher?"
Kate answered evenly. "He is. He is a teacher."
"What's the name of his school?"
Kate pointed to a brochure wedged into the side of her mirror. "It's not a school. It's a company that runs foreign schools. The American Schools Abroad Program. I write letters to that company's address, and they forward them to him wherever he is."
"Like where?"
"I never know. It could be, like, Korea, Japan, Thailand." She added, "I haven't heard back in a while." Kate pointed to the photo. "I look totally like my father." Then she frowned and looked at the door. "I don't look a thing like June."
4. Agoraphobia
Dinner was spaghetti, meatballs, and garlic bread. June sat silently among the children as they talked. The conversation, inevitably, turned to the Whittaker Magnet School.
"My grandmother used to work there," Molly said, "back when it was only a library. She still goes to County Commission meetings at the Whittaker Building."
June looked up.
Molly went on, "I don't know if you've heard the stories, but lots of people say the Whittaker Building is haunted."
June looked back down.
"The building itself has a bloody history," George said. "Lots of people have died there."
Kate turned to June. "So you want me to leave Lincoln, where all my friends are and where I'm set to star in Peter Pan, to go and be killed in a haunted library? Is that the plan?"
June swallowed hard and answered, "No, Kate, that is not the plan. But as far as that play goes, you're not certain to get the lead part. It could go to someone else. Right, Molly?"
Kate snorted. "Who? No one else will even audition for the lead. Everybody knows I'm perfect for Peter Pan."
Molly mumbled, "LoriBeth Sommers will."
"LoriBeth Sommers! Please, I'm trying to eat. She can't dance. She can't act. All she can do is stand next to the flagpole and sing the national anthem. So what? She hits her one high note; then all the guys yell, 'Play ball!'"
If Kate expected enthusiastic agreement from George and Molly, she did not get it. Instead, George informed the group, "I learned this, too: The Whittaker Magnet School is ranked number one in the United States in standardized testing."
Kate reached over and pinched his cheek. "Great. Have fun there. Alone. I will be at Lincoln Middle School."
Molly asked, "Have you ever seen the place?"
"No," Kate said, but then turned to June. "Have I?"
June seemed offended. "Of course you have. Many times. I used to take you there when you were little."
She was offended further when Kate replied, "Oh? Was that back when you took me places?"
"That's not fair, Kate. I drive you everywhere you want to go."
"Okay. Let's be fair." Kate leaned forward. "Take me there now. I want to see this haunted building."
"It's-it's Sunday night, Kate. I'm sure it's not open."
At that moment, a familiar vibration began in the floors and walls, three times as strong as before, as all six members of the Tri-County Cloggers started practice.
Kate offered a compromise. "Let's just drive over and look at it from the outside. If I ever went there, I must have been two years old. I sure don't remember."
Molly was enthusiastic about the idea. "It's cool looking. Like Frankenstein's castle."
"Do you mean Baron von Frankenstein?" George asked. "Or Frankenstein's monster?"
"Uh, the monster."
"Frankenstein's monster didn't have a castle. He lived in a shack in the woods. With a blind guy."
"He did? What, was he like his guide dog?"
"No. He was his friend. The blind guy didn't know the monster looked like a monster."
"Uncle George!" Kate snapped. "Does it really matter?"
George backed off. "No. I guess not."
"The point is that Molly thinks it looks like a scary castle, okay?"
"Okay."
June stood up. She steadied herself with both hands on the table, then stammered, "How about if we make ice-cream sundaes and sit on the front porch for a change? The clogging won't sound so loud there."
Kate stretched her neck, trying to make eye contact. "We're leaving the house, June. That's what normal people do. They leave their houses and they do things."
June exhaled. "Then I have to go to the bathroom." She hurried out of the kitchen.
"Maybe this is a bad idea," Molly whispered. "If you really want to go, my grandmother could drive us there tomorrow."
"No. June can drive us there now. There is no reason why she can't." Then, in a sudden moment of reflection, she turned to her uncle. "Is there, Uncle George?"
George swallowed a final bite of garlic bread. "There may be. June may suffer from a mild form of agoraphobia. That's from the Greek. Literally, it means 'fear of the marketplace.' It means you are terrified to go out in public."
"If my hair looked that bad," Kate muttered, "I'd be afraid to go out in public, too."
June emerged from the bathroom, pale and sweating.
Kate told her, "Okay. We don't have to go, June, if you're not up to it."
"Nonsense. You kids want to go, so we're going."
George scrutinized her face. "Are you sure, June?"
"I'm positive."
"It's okay if you're afraid to go. Lots of people are afraid of movie monsters, and ghost stories, and haunted buildings."
June opened the door and started out. "I'm not afraid. I just had to go to the bathroom."
George continued. "But, really, there are no such things as monsters, and ghosts, and haunted buildings."
June laughed, a queer, brittle laugh. She said, "I know that. Everybody knows that. Anybody who doesn't know that is crazy."
5. A Fearsome Building
June clung to the steering wheel of her Geo Metro like she was lashed to a boat wheel in a storm. George sat in the front seat, occasionally flashing a worried sideways glance at his sister, while the girls gossiped in whispers in the back.
As they approached downtown, George noticed a billboard and called out, "Hey, Kate! Look. It's the guy from the aquatic park!"
Kate looked out at the billboard. It showed a heavyset man holding up his thumb beneath the message: "Now your family can live in the #1 school district in America! Reserve your homesite in Bud Wright's Ivy League Estates today!"
"He's talking about the Whittaker School District," George said. "Do you know that home values near the Whittaker Magnet School have tripled in the past five years?"
Kate replied, "Like I care."
The little car rounded a bend and struggled up a steep hill to its destination.
Kate and George were both taken aback by their first sight of the Whittaker Building. It was a truly massive stone structure—eight stories high and a full city block wide. It dominated the puny buildings around it like a fearsome giant.
June started to pull over, but Kate urged her along. "Keep going, June. We want to get a close look at this place!"
"Can't we see it from here?"
"No, we can't. Drive right up to it."
June silently obeyed.
Kate pressed her face against the window and stared up. "I think it looks creepy. Like Dracula's castle." She directed a withering glance at her uncle. "Shut up."
"Dracula did have a castle," George assured her. "Of course, his name wasn't really Dracula."
"Shut up."
"It was Count Vlad."
The little car crept closer as George continued. "They may as well make a horror movie about this place, so many people have died here."
"How many?" Kate asked.
"Dozens. Going back almost a hundred years. In
all kinds of ways, too: electrocuted in the basement, run over at the loading dock, dismembered by power saws. More people have died in that building than in the state penitentiary at Milton, where they keep the electric chair."
"Sounds like a real nice place to go to school."
The building had a large drop-off area in front, curving off the main street like a crescent moon. Kate directed June to turn into the drive and pull over.
A large poster dominated the entranceway. It showed a girl and a boy above the caption, "Story Time at the Whittaker Library Changed Our Lives!" The girl was seated. She wore a frilly white dress and had her hair done up in long blond ringlets. The boy was standing. He was short and skinny, dressed in tan slacks, a blue blazer, and a purple-and-yellow striped tie.
Kate leaned out of the car window and stared at the poster with distaste. "They can't be serious. Is this a joke?" She was soon distracted, though, by a bright red flash from high above. A light was emanating from a room at the top of the building. Kate strained forward to see. She cried out, "Look! Somebody's up there! Maybe this is the haunted part."
George and Molly leaned out to see, too.
A windowpane on the eighth floor was glowing an eerie, pulsating red. Intermittently, a shower of hot sparks bounced off the glass.
Kate whispered, "What's going on up there?"
"It looks like the spray from a power saw," George said. "Someone must be sawing metal."
"At this hour?"
They watched the flickering window, puzzling over it silently, until a shadowy figure appeared. Kate saw it first and screamed. George and Molly screamed right after. The figure—thin, black, and tall—seemed to be staring down at them.
"What is that?" Kate cried. "A woman?"
George could not speak, but Molly answered, "Yeah. A crazy woman. Maybe, like, a power-saw killer!"
The figure vanished as rapidly as it had appeared, leaving the three children staring at the darkened window for another half minute.
"Okay," Kate finally announced. "I think we've seen enough of Uncle George's dream school."
June didn't respond, but she did manage to get the car turned around and moving back toward home.
They drove for several minutes in silence until the pull of the Whittaker Building finally faded away. By the time they got back to the house, Kate and Molly were once again laughing and joking. They called Lisette and carried on a merry three-way conversation about hot guys at Lincoln. But Kate's merry thoughts kept getting interrupted by dark ones. Kate ignored the thoughts as best she could, but they kept beeping into her head like messages from a shadowy caller, phoning with a singular purpose from a darkened upstairs room.