Surreal continuing story: walking through doors and passageways

[NDP]

“Actually, you’re half right: both are demanding. As for fair, well, that’s a matter for debate.”

“Hades and Pilar are both frustrated types,” Artie says. “Hades’ goal has always been to coach at the college level. That has never been a very well-kept secret. A few big college programs gave a him a sniff a few years ago but nothing came from it.”

“Pilar also has–or had–ambitions of moving beyond coaching high school cheerleaders,” Susan adds. “She was a college dance major who tried to become a choreographer on Broadway and in Hollywood. However, jobs were scarce, so she started teaching and coaching cheerleaders until her big break came. It never did though.”

“So you think that their dissatisfaction with where they are in their lives is what makes them overly demanding and uptight?” Alice suggests.

“Well, to use dime-store psychology, yes,” answers Artie.

“How about Moscowitz and Safer?” I ask.

“They’re a lot more mellow,” George replies. “You’ll like them both.”

After he answers, Jack and Eloise come into the room.

“Good to see that you’re here,” Jack declares. “I was just going to tell you some interesting and unusual things about _____ High School.”

“Let’s hear it,” I say.

“Well,” Jack begins, "I think you all should know…

[dougie_monty]

“For one thing, the school has as colorful a history as the Morpheus—and there are some links.”
“Go on,” I say.

“Jared Smedley was at the top of his class scholastically, for one. And quite a few people connected with the Morpheus attended the school. That vet Fafoofnik—who, incidentally, is Mabel’s great-uncle—was a school cutup.
“You’ve probably heard about that drug dealer who was murdered on campus. The school did in fact have an unfortunate history of drug use, going back to secret opium dens in the Twenties.”

Eloise adds, “When the Loma Prieta earthquake hit in 1989, the building with most of the English classrooms was almost totally destroyed. Three such dens, long unused, were discovered in the wreckage and one room was totally caved in. The school district’s budget problems being what they were then, they couldn’t afford to excavate it.
“A few years later, by dint of a bond issue that succeeded, the excavation was done and a new building planned. When the caved-in room was reached, the workers found a few dead bodies—one was a woman named Claudette Natalie Nicholas, who had been missing for nine years.”

“A relative of Red Nicholas, no doubt,” says Alice.
“There’s also an unsubstantiated rumor that some of the gems Red Nicholas used in his wiccan rites, were buried under the boys’ gym instead of beneath the Morpheus. This was in the same area where the League believes Smedley’s lockbox is buried, beneath Hades’ office. There was once a group of rockhounds who prowled the surrounding area, hunting valuable rocks, and one claimed to have found an opal—until the school administration cordoned off the area and tried to suppress news about it.”

“I’ll have to ask Myron Skagg about that,” I say.
“You may also want to ask one of the rockhounds,” Jack says. “His name is Seosmh Carnahan.”

“Sho-sif?” asks Alice. “How do you spell that?”
“S-E-O-S-M-H,” says Jack. “It’s Irish for ‘Joseph.’ He’s now a professional lapidary—he can even cut diamonds.”

“When did this happen?” I ask. “And how old is Carnahan?”
“It happened in 1996,” says Eloise. “He’s about 30 now. He was an apprentice to Sol Feldman for a while but he wound up opening his own lapidary shop. And more importantly, he’s a DXM person. His shop is across the street from Loora’s building.”

“That’ll help,” I say.
Now Jeanette speaks up.

“What kind of classes does Coach Pilar have the rest of the day? Parker said I’ll have her as PE coach myself.”
Eloise smiles. “She has dance classes the rest of the day—sort of a combination of ballet, aerobics, and drill team. The girls all wear black leotards, or they used to, and they learn synchronized routines.”

“That’s for me,” says Jeanette. “I worked real hard learning modern dance and ballet before we started our band. I wonder if Pilar has anything to do with that dance school upstairs from Kerrie’s Coifs.”
“She sure does,” Eloise says. “She teaches an advanced ballet class there on Friday night.”

“That’s fine,” says Jeanette.
Jack now tells us, glancing at Artie, “If you two take an even strain with Hades and Pilar, even for the short time you’ll be under their authority, you’ll do just fine. If Hades knows you’re running, weightlifting or smacking against the tackling dummies, or if Pilar knows you’re practicing jumps, turns, and yells, they won’t get on your case.”

“Well, we all have our own definition of ‘fair,’ Mr. Sharp,” says Artie.
“And so do Alice and ______, Arthur,” says Jack sternly.

We all return to the stage area. In fact Jeanette and a few others don appropriate outfits, including leg warmers, to do ballet routines on stage. Johnny Goss plays the Anvil Chorus from Il Trovatore on the piano; Jeanette gives him an impudent smirk.
Now, before Mr. Stanhouse can comment on the dance routine, Lorraine Adler storms in at full boil.

Alice and I see the reporter; she looks mad enough to bite tires.
“She must have gone out to Pauley Drive, for her ‘Associated Press’ meeting, and seen the place Gwen used to live in, at the address Jan gave her,” says Alice, smirking. Jan Oranjeboom sees Lorraine and quickly hides backstage. Fred sees her; he knows what’s going on and he too turns away so she won’t see his expression of merriment. So does Loora. Lorraine looks as if she’ll blow up any minute now!

[NDP]

“I suppose you think that childish scam you pulled was really funny, don’t you?” she fumes with a voice that would cut glass.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fred innocently says while still keeping his distance.

“Nor I,” agrees Loora. “Did that meeting with the AP go okay?”

Lorraine, one stage from erupting, remains silent but gives us a “I’m not going to dignify that question with an answer” gaze.

I turn to Alice and ask, “What exactly was at Gwen’s old house and why is she so pissed off?”

Alice smiles mischieviously and replies, “Why don’t you ask Lorraine? I, myself, would love to hear her version.”

“In this guise?” I say. “She’d really know something weird was happening if I … oh … wait … I get it.”

“Right,” Alice states.

“But wouldn’t that blow our covers?” I ask.

“Not if we don’t tell her our real names,” she answers. “Of course, if you want to run our little joke past Fred first, go ahead. But I’d do it now.”

I walk over to Fred and ask him what he thinks about our plan to pull another whammy on Lorraine. He tells me…

[dougie_monty]

“Well, let’s discuss this away from the stage.”
With that, Fred motions for Alice and me to follow him. Let’s go to the kitchen, he thinks to us. As we leave, I notice, out of the corner of my eye, Lorraine, still seething, standing with Eloise and Loora. Now Buster follows us.

We get to the kitchen and sit down. We share a large bunch of grapes and ice water. I prepare dishes of liver and cream for Buster.
“Well, I think you succeeded already in giving Ms. Adler her comeuppance,” Fred says with a snicker.

“Well, Loora causing Lorraine’s panties to fall didn’t work,” Alice snorts, “and I think pairing the ruins of Gwen’s old house at ‘633 Pauley Drive’ with Lorraine’s pushy, inquisitive attitude was an excellent idea.”
“I think I told you Myron Skagg was in on it,” says Fred. “Whatever attitude prompted her to defy you and fill her article with references to wings, sure evaporated when she saw the ruins out there. Now, as for your plans to give her another whammy—I’d wait on that, and you’ll see why shortly. I have some ideas of my own. We DXM people have to look out for each other—and not let the existence of your wings become common knowledge.”

“I guess this was easier than Mr. Skagg asking Lorraine to explain herself,” says Buster, between bites of liver.
“You guessed!” says Fred. “Actually, to be honest, I think he may have done that already: she should know that her editor would scrutinize her copy. And Skagg, believe it or not, is a DXM operative himself, as well as a member of my poker group.”

“So if she got nasty about Jan’s little prank you could make a counter-complaint about her effort to expose the wings,” says Buster.
“Absolutely,” says Fred. “Better she should go on a wild-goose chase after an imaginary AP contact than have to explain herself to Fields or Parker about who she thinks has wings.”

“Who all has wings now, anyway?” Buster asks.
“Alice, ______, Hermione, Winifred, Gwen, Thalia, April Blonda…and one other, I don’t know offhand,” says Fred. “Let’s go back in there and bring it up to Eloise, out of Ms. Adler’s earshot.” We clean up in the kitchen and head back to the stage area. Buster finishes his liver and cream.

When we approach the entrance to the seating area, Jan Oranjeboom meets us, where nobody in the seats can see him.
“How’s Ms. Adler now, Jan?” Alice asks.

“She quit shrieking, and now she’s sitting with Mr. Stanhouse and Sylvia Goldstein again,” he says. “She still looks like she’d swallow me whole if she finds out what we did.”
“Well, she won’t yell at Alice or me unless she wants us to counter with a demand that she explain the references to wings,” I reply.

“Oh—one other thing, Alice,” I say. “Shadowskeedeeboomboom.”
“What?” asks Alice with a puzzled laugh.

“That was the name of a character in an early MAD comic—”
“Oh, I understand. I read that MAD article myself. So you want me to cloud Ms. Adler’s mind?”

“Yes,” I say, “just enough so she doesn’t wonder why I look so much younger now. Of course, you always look young.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” Alice says with a happy hug and kiss for me.

Now we return to the seats. I say “Shadowskeedeeboomboom,” again, softly, to Alice, just before Lorraine turns to look at Fred, Alice, Buster and me, returning to the first row. As if to mollify Ms. Adler, Buster jumps up on her lap and gives her a friendly look, and starts purring. She politely declines and gently sets him back on the floor; he shrugs telepathically to Alice and me.

Fred, I would sure like to know who else has wings, I say telepathically.
Never mind that now. We’ll wait until Lorraine leaves—but she’s going to get a whammy of sorts any minute now, Fred replies. I nod.

Lorraine glances at Alice and me, and scowls. She looks at the galley proofs she has with her; I use ESP and find that she’s wondering why she didn’t become a secretary.
*We’re going to have to get ready to go to the school tomorrow with Mum and Dad and the Galloways, * Alice tells me telepathically. I acknowledge.

Suddenly Lorraine stands up and walks over to where we are sitting; we’re just off the aisle.
“I want to talk to both of you—and you, Mr. Moreland—about that ‘Associated Press’ person,” she says in a tone of voice expressing irritation, embarrassment, and apprehension at the same time.

“Fine, Ms. Adler,” says Fred. He, Alice, and I stand up and walk with Lorraine, about halfway up the aisle. As if on cue, her editor, Myron Skagg III, approaches from the other direction. He looks much like Jason Alexander in The Producers, and wears his workaday sack suit. He seems in a cordial mood.
“Lorraine,” he says as he greets us, “I’d like to discuss a few things in your article about the Morpheus…”

[NDP]

What exactly is with all the references to wings and people flying? It seems to me there’s some sort of weird undercurrent with your story."

I notice Skagg says “weird” like Johnny Carson (or Dana Carvey imitating Johnny Carson) did when he hosted The Tonight Show.

“I fail to see what’s so ‘weird’ about it,” Lorraine states. “It’s just some metaphors used to describe the performances.”

“I think there’s more than some metaphors at work here,” Skagg says. “Also, what’s this business about meeting somebody from the AP?”

“Oh … uh … I really didn’t meet with someone from the AP,” Lorraine stammers uncomfortably.

“Well, there’s a fairly substantial rumor going around that you did,” says Skagg. “What exactly happened?”

Lorraine gulps and prepares to tell us the whole story. This should be good.

“I went to this place on Pauley Drive,” she begins. "When I got there…

[dougie_monty]

“I expected I might reach a well-known, or at least well-paid, journalist, and, given the neighborhood, I figured it might be at his home. But when I got out there all I saw at 633 Pauley Drive was an empty house that looked as if it had been abandoned for several years. I saw nothing else on that side of the street, so I went across the street to the house at 630, and I knocked on the door, but there was no answer.”

That’s because Mum and Dad and the others are here, Alice thinks to me.
Mr. Skagg sighs and shakes his head slightly.

“Lorraine… you should know better than that. You know you should verify an outlying address, and ask for a name and a phone number! Remember the kids who kept calling you on April 1, about the leprechauns or something out on north Amoruso Street?”
“Yes, Mr. Skagg… I guess I went overboard.”

Now Alice, Fred, and I get a surprise—a telepathic message from the seasoned editor Skagg.
I know what’s going on—that kid Jan Oranjeboom played a trick on Ms. Adler. I think I’ll let her stew over this for a while—she is in fact a good journalist but she tends to forget her subjects’ sensibilities. I’ll return later with a revised article—I’ll persuade her to take the “wings” metaphor out.

Skagg and Adler excuse themselves and leave, for now.
As we see them walking across the street, Alice, Fred, and I high-five.

Now we go into the conference room with Fred, the Galloways, Alice’s parents, Jeanette, and Stan and Louise Brown to prepare for enrolling at the high school tomorrow morning.
“We have our school clothes and supplies,” Alice says. “We should keep things like the goggles Fred gave us in the backpacks, along with the booklet What to Say that we got from Ted Albert.”

“Now you’ll be three blocks from here, so you don’t have to eat in the school cafeteria if you’d rather get off-grounds permits and go to Sam Chu Lin’s or DeCaro’s for lunch,” Paul says.
“Thanks, Dad, but the school cafeteria will be fine,” says Alice. “Mr. Galloway says that ______ and I should ‘blend in’ with the other kids.”

“What about Jeanette?” asks Betty Galloway.” She is apparently not supposed to ‘blend in.’”
Jeanette looks appropriate for this, already. She wears tight black jeans and a contemporary top that manages to cover her ample bust.

“Oh, Jeanette’s clique usually goes to one of several fast-food places just off campus,” Mr. Galloway says. “Her character is rather an off-beat, but she still qualifies for an off-grounds permit herself.” Jeanette nods.
“We’ll take care of the paperwork for the football team and the cheerleading squad after Ms. Jason effects your enrollment,” Galloway continues.

“Oh—what’s my code name for the mission?” asks Jeanette. “I was assigned the name ‘Junie Sondergaard’ [pronounced ZOON-dur-gourd] for the pool-hall mission, but I never identified myself as such, to anyone but _____ and Alice there.”
“Go ahead and use that name,” says Fred. “Stan and Louise, of course, will pose as your parents, Sid and Laurette Sondergaard.”

Alice and I note that Loora has likewise rejuvenated Stan and Louise adequately.
“And Alice’s parents will be Powell and Eulah Torrance.” Eda twists her face at the mention of the name “Eulah.” Alice can’t suppress a smirk.

“Louise will also drive Stan’s big rig near the campus; she has a mission to bring supplies onto campus,” adds Fred.

In the morning we all get up, bright and early; we’re suitably dressed and groomed. That is, all of us except Jeanette, whose part requires that she not be suitably dressed and groomed. Alice, as Andrea Torrance, and her parents; Jeanette with Stan and Louise as her “parents”; and I with George and Betty Galloway as my “parents”, Gus and Belinda Montrose; we all get into Eloise’s big van and drive to the high school. When we get there, we go inside the main building to the office with the sign on the door “Mrs. Maureen Jason, Registrar.”

We wait our turn at the counter. Maureen Jason, an older but robust woman, approaches and asks, “May I help you?”
Paul and Eda, in character now, approach first, to enroll their daughter “Andrea.” They hand the registrar the “Airways High” documents the league prepared for Alice.

[NDP]

“So you’ve just moved here?” the registrar says.

“Yes,” answers Paul. “We were from the Seattle area originally but the economy there has really gone in the dumper so we moved here.”

Paul is doing his best to suppress his English accent.

“I know,” Maureen answers. “My son was working for a dot com company there and they’re just holding on by a thread. Is that your field too?”

Paul pauses for a moment. He seems to have been caught off-guard by Maureen’s seemingly innocuous questions pertaining to his employment.

Fortunately, Eda intervenes: "No, Paul works as…

[dougie_monty]

“…the office manager at the House of Tracy.”
It’s a good thing we talked about this to Gene Dearborn last week, I think to Alice.

And there are DXM operatives at all three of the other high schools to guarantee we’ll have no problems, Alice replies.
Ms. Jason looks at the documents the League prepared for Alice.

“Airways High, King County, Washington…” She enters data onto her computer.
“Andrea Patricia Torrance. Oh, Elwood, prepare a class schedule for this young lady,” she says as she hands Alice’s papers to him.

We see Elwood, a chunky young black man with his hair in a style like Coolio’s. He wears a long-sleeved white shirt, blue slacks and white bucks. He gets into position to wink at us without Ms. Jason seeing it.
I’m your DXM contact at the school here, he tells us telepathically. We nod.

He pokes at his own computer keyboard; after a minute or two his printer spits out a class schedule, which Maureen hands to Alice. I read it with her.
Yes, that’s the schedule we wanted, Alice thinks to me.

Now George and Betty Galloway approach with me. They hand Maureen my school documents, as prepared by Parker’s staff.
“Rio Hondo High in Los Angeles County…do you two know each other?”

Without missing a beat, I say, “Yes, ma’am. Our family has known the Torrances for years.”
“Dennis Lawrence Montrose…football team…oh, Elwood, I forgot to note that Ms. Torrance here was on the cheerleading squad at Airways High…”

“Sure, Ms. Jason,” says Elwood. He pokes at his computer again, and prints out a schedule, which Maureen takes and hands to me. It matches the one Alice has. For both of us, sixth period is “Physical Education—Gym”; mine gives “W. Hades” as teacher; Alice’s gives “T. Pilar.” I thank the registrar politely.
Next Ms. Jason turns to Stan and Louise—but she also glances at Jeanette, who, in character as the “Goth” Junie Sondergaard, is fidgeting impatiently and chewing gum.

“Young lady, you may not chew gum in school buildings.”
“Oh, yeah,” snarls “Junie” as she slumps over to a trash can and spits her quid of gum into it. Stan and Louise step up to the counter.

“Ely, Nevada… June Inez Sondergaard.” Maureen reads Jeanette’s documents and hands them to Elwood, who produces a class schedule for Jeanette, who continues to fidget and otherwise act in an appropriately insouciant manner.
I don’t think any of your classes matches any of mine, Jeanette thinks to Alice and me.

• Actually one does—we all have the same third-period chemistry class in Room 124 with Mr. Basset,* I think in reply.
  That’s cool, Jeanette replies. * I always did well in chemistry class anyway.*

Ms. Jason now says, “Dennis and Andrea have additional paperwork they’ll need a few minutes to fill out in the gym in sixth period. Elwood will meet you there and he’ll take the papers to Coaches Hades and Pilar.”
Alice’s parents and the Galloways nod. We all leave and go into a side room before Alice, Jeanette, and I have to get to class.

“What’s your schedule, Jeanette?” asks Mr. Galloway.
She shows it to us. First to sixth, it’s Word Processing; Journalism; Chemistry (same as Alice and I have); P. E.; French; and government, the other five with the same teachers and classrooms as Alice and I have, but of course at different times.

“That’s fine,” says Betty. “So just before lunchtime you and Jeanette can compare notes.”
The older adults leave; I know Louise will park Stan’s big rig just off campus soon.

Jeanette sees us off and walks over to a group of “Goth” kids similarly caparisoned. They start to talk immediately and Jeanette walks off with them.

Alice and I now go to Room 208 for the American Government class. Mr. Wayne has left the door open, and leaves for a few minutes. Alice and I, with our backpacks, come in and wait for him. He returns; he slightly resembles Ronald Reagan when Ronnie became governor of California, which seems appropriate, given the teacher’s political bent. The desks are arranged in a two-row horseshoe pattern, with the open end near Mr. Wayne’s own desk. He has Alice and me take seats on opposite sides of the room, so we face each other.

It’s now 8:00 a.m. Mr. Wayne opens the period with the usual routine. After he reads the daily bulletin, he says we’ll start discussing the structure of California State government. First, however, he introduces “Andrea” and me to the class.

[NDP]

“We have two new students with us,” Mr. Wayne announces to the class. “Young lady, will you start by introducing yourself and telling us where you’re from.”

“I’m Andrea Torrance,” Alice answers. “I just moved here from Seattle.”

“Ah, Seattle,” Mr. Wayne muses, “rain-soaked purgatory populated by socially maladroit techo-nerds, latte`sipping limousine liberals, and green enviro-fanatics. But don’t worry, I won’t hold that against you. Anyway, who’s your friend?”

“Dennis Montrose,” I say. “I’m from Rio Hondo High in Los Angeles.”

“You’re a football player aren’t you?” the teacher inquires.

“Yes,” I answer.

“You look like one,” he comments. “Okay students, let’s get back to our assignment. Andrea and Dennis, I should tell you that while I do have a textbook for this class, the school let’s me copy articles from books, magazines, and the internet to supplement our educational material. Our last reading assignment was from one such article.”

He then hands me and Alice two crimson red paper binders with several hundred pages of photocopied articles inside.

“It shouldn’t take too much effort for you two to get up to speed with the rest of the class,” says Mr. Wayne. “Now, will everybody turn to page 230 so we can discuss what I assigned to you yesterday.”

I turn to page 230 and am immediately shocked at what I see. The assigned article is about…

[dougie_monty]

…a description of local governments in the vicinity; cities such as Lodi, Livermore, and Hayward.
Along with this is a printed statement on Page 230 which shocks me, and I’m sure also shocks Alice:

“A local fraternal organization has disrupted the general well-being of citizens in the vicinity of _______ city. Despite citizens’ efforts to locate plundered gems and precious metals, this organization keeps a strong hold on a local building and suppresses the efforts of hard-working people.”
Just after this is a line in blue, unusual for photocopied matter and obviously not part of the original printed page: ,Wir sind die Träume, wovon der Stoff gestalten wurde.“

The mangled Shakespeare quote in German, Alice thinks to me.
Mr. Wayne says, “Dennis—read the second paragraph on Page 230, out loud.”

I fumble a little, but I start to read:
“A local fraternal organization—”

The other kids laugh a little.
“Mr. Montrose, that’s not the right page,” says Mr. Wayne.

“That’s what it says on Page 230 in my book,” I say.
“Don’t—” he starts to say. The classroom phone rings. He goes to answer it.

“Wayne, Room 208,” he says.
He listens for a minute. He seems concerned. He says, “Very well, then,” and hangs up.

He picks up his briefcase and heads for the door. He tells us, “I’m going to have to go to the principal’s office for a little while. I’ll leave Mr. Pollard to look after the class for the rest of the period.”
The teaching assistant, Mr. Pollard, a young bookish fellow—he looks much like Joanie Sharp’s brother Tim Werdin—stands at the desk. He tells us, “Just follow the reading assignments Mr. Wayne gave you last week.” He turns to me. “Dennis, what page did you start to read from in that book?”

“Page 230,” I say.
Mr. Pollard walks over to my desk. “Show me,” he says.

I open the book to Page 230 again.
He looks. “That’s not the right volume,” he says. He finds the same thing wrong with the book Mr. Wayne issued Alice. He returns to the desk and takes some smaller binders, like Duo Tang report folders, with only that chapter copied. I turn to Page 230 and see a routine description of California local governments.

So we read until the period ends. Alice and I leave when the bell sounds and we head for our second period class.
“I think somebody is tracking us again,” Alice says.

Hey, if you two got the wrong book, don’t blame Wayne or Pollard. I’ve already called Parker’s office, says Elwood to us, telepathically.
“We’ll have to tell Jeanette and Betty Galloway about this,” I comment.

In Room 401 we walk directly to Mr. Hernández’ desk and show the enrollment papers. The teacher introduces us to the class, in French.
He tells us “Asseyez-vous,” and points to two unused first-row desks, side by side. He hands each of us a French reader titled Vingt et Un Contes (“21 Stories”).

We’re to read a passage—translating it into English.
He assigns first Alice, then me, to read. When we finish, he says, “Très bien, Mademoiselle Torrance/Monsieur Montrose,” We both answer in our turn with “Merci, Monsieur.”

The rest of the French class is uneventful. No vingt-trois; no other surprises in the textbooks. In fact we hardly speak at all after the translation of passages is finished. As we expect, we have attracted some other students’ attention—the few guys in the French class have noted Alice; some girls can’t help turning to face me.
When we go to Chemistry class in third period, in Room 124, we note that among the other kids, besides Jeanette as “Junie,” along with two other “Goth” kids, there are Artie Brown, Jan Oranjeboom, and Jean Sharp; they all recognize us, of course.

We show Mr. Basset our enrollment papers. He resembles Wally Cox. He points seats out to us and hands us our textbooks.
While he collects homework assignments from the rest of the class, Alice, Jeanette, and I, converse telepathically.

I’ll bet you had at least one surprise this morning, Jeanette tells us.

[NDP]

Yes, I did. I telepathically answer. I wasn’t expecting to see an article about a conspiracy being hatched by secret gem-hoarding society.

And that picture on the second page would give anyone nightmares, Jeanette adds.

What picture? I ask. My supplemental textbook was replaced by a “proper” edition not long after I saw the first page.

You didn’t see the picture? Jeanette continues. I wish you had. It was of…

[dougie_monty]

“…some gross, monstrous, grasping creature with a face much like Lon Chaney’s, in Phantom of the Opera. The background looked much like the Hellmouth—I went down there about two weeks ago with Dr. Clouse, Claudia, and Susan Bradley.
What kind of illustration was that? asks Alice.

It was rather like an editorial cartoon, replies Jeanette.* Although I haven’t seen many such cartoons in full, morbid color. Oh—and there was a small lockbox in the foreground. I think it’s the very same lockbox you’re supposed to locate beneath Coach Hades’ office.
I guess the gross, monstrous creature is supposed to be Coach Hades,* I comment.

This causes Alice, Jeanette, and me to titter foolishly for a moment.
Mr. Basset, unflappable as ever, interrupts this.

“Mr. Montrose, can you tell the class which of these substances is explosive—carbon disulphide, sulphur, or oil of wintergreen,” he says.
“Carbon disulphide, sir,” I say, not missing a beat.

“Ms. Sondergaard,” he says, now facing Jeanette and pointing at the period table on the wall behind him, “Which group of elements regularly differs in electron-shell structure only in the third-from-outermost shell?”
“The Lanthanide and Actinide rare-earth series, Mr. Basset,” answers Jeanette, still in “Goth” character.

“Ms. Torrance,” the teacher continues, facing Alice, “Which gem is commonly formed organically, of calcium carbonate; and which gem is green beryl, Be3Al2Si6O18?”
“Pearl and emerald,” answers Alice.

The three of us are relieved, that we’ve been attentive enough so that Mr. Basset doesn’t single us out. Artie, Jan, and Jean give us approving looks.
For the rest of the period, Mr. Basset demonstrates some experiments to the class; things I assume he can’t trust us to do on our own. He mixes some chemicals and produces a little rubber ball that bounces slightly; it rather resembles a slightly gnawed artgum eraser.

The teacher ends the period by giving us Chapter 23 to read, and says there will be a test on Friday.
“Is it ‘open book,’ Mr. Basset?” asks Jeanette.

“No, Ms. Sondergaard, it’s ‘open mind,’” he answers. The other “Goth” kids laugh.
The class period ends. As we leave the room, Artie, Jan, and Jean walk with us. “We’ll show you where the cafeteria is,” Jean says. She is the eldest of Eloise’s kids still in school; she has her mother’s sexy walk, and sexy everything else.

We go to the cafeteria and get our trays and food. The food is rather good today—tamales and chili; steamed rice; lettuce-and-tomato salad; corn bread; milk; and sliced peaches and pears.
Artie directs us to the very end of a long table; we all sit down together. Betty Galloway, as my “mother” Belinda Montrose, in white dress, apron, and mobcap, comes out to speak to us. I suddenly stand up and face the rest of the crowd eating lunch.

“Shadowskeedeeboomboom,” I say.
Alice, on cue, stands up too. She is obviously clouding the other kids’ minds so they won’t know what she and I, and our group, are saying.

Now Elwood, too, comes in, as much like Coolio as he was in Mrs. Jason’s office. He sits with us.
“You got the same portfolio in first period government as Jeanette got in second period,” he says.

“Is that the one with the complaint about gem-hoarders on Page 230 and the grasping monster in full color on Page 232?” asks Betty. “With Smedley’s lockbox in the foreground.”
“That’s the one,” says Jeanette.

“We also got an oblique reference to pearls and emeralds in the chemistry class,” says Alice. “And Mr. Basset assigned us to read Chapter 23 in the textbook, though I know teachers don’t always follow the text’s own format.”
“Incidentally, that has something to do with Mr. Wayne’s phone call and departure for the administration building during first period,” Elwood says.

“He came back early on in second period,” says Jeanette. “If he was perturbed about anything, he didn’t let on.”
Betty asks, “Jeanette, did you have any clues like that in your first-period French class? I understand ______ and Alice didn’t get anything like that in Hernández’ second-period class—all they did was read and translate.”

Jeanette answers, “well…”

[NDP]

when I came into class, it was still early and the students and the teacher had not yet arrived. As I looked around the empty room, I noticed somebody had left a copy of book open to the illustration of the monster. Of course a picture like that got my attention, so I skimmed through part of the book were it was and found out about the apparent connection to the lockbox. Unfortunately, the other students started filing in and I quickly closed the book and left it on the desk where I found it."

“The teacher’s desk?” I inquire.

“No, it was one of the students,” Jeanette answers. “Some girl named Karin Silencio. Real quiet–she didn’t say a word during class.”

“Did you ever get a chance to talk to her?” Betty asks.

“No, she came in just as class started and was the first one out the door when class ended,” Jeanette explains. “I tried to track her down in the hallway but I couldn’t find her in the crowd. However, I did see her briefly just before lunch.”

“What was she doing?” Elwood asks.

Jeanette says, "She was…

[dougie_monty]

“Hanging around the administration building—like she was waiting for a teacher. Of course she saw my employee badge when I approached. [As a school employee he wears a badge with his picture and his name, Elwood Sphere Olyphant.] I told her she is not allowed to loiter in the buildings and she’d better get to the cafeteria or at least the lunch area in general. She said she was waiting for Mr. Wayne and I told her fourth period, right after lunch, is his free period. So she said she would come back to talk to him after sixth period. Her own fourth- , fifth- and sixth-period classes are clear across campus from that building, so she wouldn’t likely return until after sixth period is over.”

“What period does she have for government?” Alice asks.
“Third period,” says Elwood. “And she has Ms. DiCarlo—not Mr. Wayne.”

“Is that binder that Messrs. Wayne and Pollard issued us, regular material in the government classes?” I ask.
“Yes, it is,” says Elwood. “Teachers have done it that way routinely for years. Mr. Wayne came up with the idea shortly after he started here and the other government teachers followed suit. But the pages with the squib about the gem-hoarding organization, and the grasping monster, well, that’s a new wrinkle.”

“How did Alice and I get the wrong binders?” I ask.
“Karin’s older brother Basil did that. He sneaks on campus and plants stuff like that in rooms like Room 208. He just put two binders with the added pages on Mr. Wayne’s desk this morning, and guessed rightly that the teacher would hand them to you when you came in. Karin had her own binder, which Ms. DiCarlo had given her, and added those pages herself.”

“Where’s Basil now?” asks Alice.
Just then we get a telepathic message from Don Clay.

Basil Silencio was arrested in San Jose twenty minutes ago, for drunk driving and possession of cocaine. His attorney met him in the local court—and the judge denied bail. Basil will be in the jail there for at least two weeks. So he won’t be back before your mission at the school ends—if he even comes back at all.
“Where does Basil live?” I ask.

“He lives in Virginia City,” says Elwood. The DXM League has a long dossier on him. In fact Mr. Silencio was booted out of his room in this city around 5:30 this morning. His roommates got sick and tired of his drug use and gave him the choice of going to the police station with them or moving out. He moved out.”
“As you said, Alice,” I comment, “They sure know how to pick ’em!”

Well, lunch period is ending. Elwood returns to his office; Betty goes back into the steam-table area. Alice unclouds the other kids’ minds, and we head for our fourth period class.
“We forgot to ask Elwood why Karin had the government-class binder in the French class,” I say.

“Who knows?” asks Alice. “Maybe she didn’t want to go clear across campus to get to her locker—”
“That’s it,” says Jeanette. “She has art class in second period and carries her French, art, and government texts until lunchtime. Her locker is across campus near the gym building.”

“Well, we’ll see you later,” I say.
“I’ll be in the stands after school,” Jeanette says. She sees a group of “Goth” kids and follows them, on her way to her 4th period class.

Alice and I walk over to the shop building. We go into Room 62 and meet the journalism teacher, Ms. Bonnie Harbaugh. Sure enough, she is dressed in full “hippie” getup, and is old enough to have worn it during the Sixties—bell-bottom slacks, tie-dyed blouse, fringed leather vest, glasses with large round lenses, a headband, and a peace-sign brooch.

She says “Pax vobiscum,” as we enter. Alice and I know that means “Peace be with you” in Latin. Alice and I hand her our schedules. The teacher hands us journalism texts and then just assigns us to sit down at one of the tables.

The other kids in the class are friendly. As a routine matter, Alice and I check them out with ESP—the kids are practically guileless. And Alice now suggests some ideas for articles to include in the next issue of the school paper, the Red Tide.

[NDP]

“Has anybody ever written an article about the history of this school and the site it’s on?” Alice asks Ms. Harbaugh.

“Not recently,” she answers. “That sounds like a groovy idea.”

The students barely suppress their giggles when Ms. Harbaugh says “groovy”. As for me, I cover my hand over my mouth so she can’t see me smirk. Alice’s expression, on the other hand, remains deadpan.

“Can I write the article?” Alice requests.

“By all means,” the teacher approves. “Would two weeks be enough to complete it?”

“That should be more than enough,” Alice answers.

“Good,” Ms. Harbaugh says. “Does anyone else have any other story ideas?”

I raise my hand to suggest something.

“Ms. Harbaugh,” I say, "I think it would be a good idea if…

[dougie_monty]

“…we wrote about the benefit coming up in that theater on Bradford Street.”
“The Morpheus?” asks Ms. Harbaugh. “I heard they’d been restoring that lovely old theater…”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I say.
Alice adds, “The college is sponsoring an AIDS benefit, a variety entertainment program.”

Ms. Harbaugh says, “Far out!” The kids react slightly.
Alice and I sit side by side. She sits to my left and we clasp hands under the tabletop.

“Do you know who’s going to be in the benefit, Dennis?” asks a lean, swarthy girl at a nearby table.
“Well, there’s a rock combo called Prester John’s Aunt, four young women. They have a pianist who is a virtuoso and a real nice lady…”

Alice’s pupils expand; she also clasps my hand snugly.
“And there’s a group of kids called Doris Sharp’s Punk Band,” Alice adds.

This gets all the kids’ attention.
I add, “They have a song about Avril Lavigne,” I say. The others’ attention is riveted on us.

“Did you say ‘Doris Sharp’?” Ms. Harbaugh asks. “Her brother George was in my class a few years ago—rather snide but a good writer.”
“Yes, Ms. Harbaugh,” says Alice. “That’s part of their mystique. Doris Sharp is sort of their manager. Doris Bradley—an eleven-year-old girl—is one of their musicians.”

“Is Doris Bradley related to Susan Bradley?” asks a boy in a back row.
“Yes,” I say. “She is Susan’s younger sister.”

“Eleven?” the boy asks. “Does she have big tits like Susan?” He cups his hands over his chest.
The other kids glower at him. So do Alice and I, and Ms. Harbaugh.

“Keep the sexist remarks out of here!” growls the teacher. “Mister Koepke, you should know better than that.”
The boy reels. He must sense that every angry eye in the room is on them—and all of the other eyes in the room are angry.

“Andrea,” says Ms. Harbaugh, changing the subject slightly, “Can you and Dennis work on a story about the Morpheus’ benefit?”
“Sure, Ms. Harbaugh,” says Alice.

“Now, Mr. Montrose,” the teacher continues, facing me, “Do you have any other story ideas? For example, what extracurricular activities are you participating in now that you’ve enrolled here?”
“Well, I made the football team,” I say. Some kids react. “I’m a halfback.”

One tall boy says, “We have a great halfback named Brandon Sharples. He always scores well in games like the one we’re playing this week against Templeton. You’ll probably stay on the bench.” I shrug.
“Well, here’s the copy for last week’s game against Garamond High,” says Ms. Harbaugh, handing some pages to me. “The student who wrote it is out with the flu. Clean it up and add details on the upcoming Templeton game.”

I read the handwritten story. It’s shot full of spelling and grammatical errors. I wonder how someone who writes so poorly could advance to high school. :rolleyes:
So I make some notations in the margin, throughout the story.

The period ends, uneventfully. Alice and I go next door, to Room 61, and hand our schedules to the word-processing teacher, an older, bluff man named Robert Thomas.
As we’d been told he would, Mr. Thomas hands us each a manual and points us to two unused computers, side by side. “I see by your schedules you’re in Journalism in 4th Period. Did Ms. Harbaugh assign you some writing?”

“Yes, Mr. Thomas,” says Alice. We sit down and switch the computers on and start keying in our stories. We continue until the end of fifth period.

Then we go on out to the gym building. I see Thurlow Skagg, and Alice sees Ulrica Werdin; of course, no one else does. We go to our separate gym classes; Elwood had told us the cheerleaders rehearse near the field where I’ll be taking laps, doing calisthenics, and blocking and scrimmaging with the team. I meet Elwood again at the entrance, with a younger man in jeans and a light gray sweatshirt. His nametag reads, “Jeff Moscowitz.”

“Coach Hades won’t be here today—he got a phone call about an hour ago,” says Elwood. I go in with Elwood and Mr. Moscowitz to Hades’ office, and we fill out papers. I see nothing suspicious inside the room—yet. There isn’t even a clipboard with a page bearing a black pelican emblem. Coach Moscowitz assigns me a locker and hands me a practice uniform to wear today.

He says, “Dennis, you may be in the Templeton game. Brandon Sharples twisted his ankle yesterday. I have to leave right now, but I’ll be back in a few minutes. So suit up and take two laps, but first go on in and meet the team.”

I do so. In the locker room I suit up and meet the other varsity players, who are already in uniform. They include, of course, Artie Brown and Mike Bradley, who are linebackers. They introduce me to the rest of the team, including Dexter Glenwood, a lean, shorter fellow who seems amused at everything that he sees. He’s the first-string quarterback.

[NDP]

“You’re Dennis Montrose,” Dexter says to me.

“Right,” I answer. “How’d you know?”

“Some of the other members on the team mentioned you earlier today,” he explains. “I figured out you must be the one they were talking about. You’re from L.A., right?”

“Yes,” I reply, “Rio Hondo High.”

“I know some guys who go there,” Dexter states. “Did you know anybody named Joe Noone?”

For half of a second, I pause and quickly evaluate how a “no” or “yes” answer might affect my cover. I then tell Dexter…

[dougie_monty]

“…I think I remember someone named Dave Noone…”
I pause for a microsecond. I contact Alice telepathically.

*Alice, honey, can you cloud these guys’ minds for a moment while I ask Thurlow to do some research into Rio Hondo?

Why yes—I’ve already clouded their minds about the wings, so I’ll just make it slightly more intense. I have to ask Ulrica to research Airways High about a girl named Carol Foutz, a cheerleader there. Consider the teammates’ minds clouded. Oh—and remember your ESP. I’ll see you later, Luv.*

Now Thurlow does some quick research for me; in two seconds he gives me the information.
So I say, “Dave Noone is a freshman there. Joe just became the first-string quarterback. Joe’s older brother Lewis just got back from Iraq…”

“I didn’t know about that,” says Dexter. “Oh—is Chris Guión still on the team?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “He’s another halfback. I bet he made first team after I moved away.”

“I don’t know about that,” says Dexter. “Chris was usually a substitute.”
Chris Guión made first team last week, Thurlow tells me.

“Well,” says Dexter, “Now I’ll introduce you to the other guys here…”
He does so. I already know Artie Brown and Mike Bradley, whose parents filled them in on the mission.

“It’s time to run,” Artie says. I’ve known him to “take charge” unofficially in things; Dexter appears to tolerate this.
So we all take two laps around the football field. I’m amazed at how well Loora’s sorcery works—I make pretty good time. In my normal state I’d be lucky to make it halfway around the track once before dropping to the ground, exhausted.

Coach Moscowitz now has us gather in the end zone, for tackling practice. I take my turn with the others. I run into the tackling dummy the first time and grab it.
“Take it easy, Montrose,” says the coach, with a light laugh. “You’re not in love with the dummy.”

“No, Coach,” I say, “but I might scare a guy on the other team!” The guys laugh.
After this, we spend the next hour and a half scrimmaging, passing, and running. I know Dexter, who seems to get a laugh from everything he sees, watches me go through the paces. I don’t disappoint him.

All this time I see the cheerleaders, some boys as well as girls, practicing their routines nearby. The woman putting them through the routines is a graceful, lithe German lady. I use ESP and find this is Coach Geraldine Safer. I also see an older woman, also in coach garb, watching from a chair. She has a bandaged ankle and holds a crutch. I suppose her to be girls’ coach Thelma Pilar.
Finally, Jeff Moscowitz hollers for us to hit the showers. I glance and see Alice and the others doing likewise.

After I shower, dry off, and leave for the day, bidding the teammates goodbye, I meet Alice and Elwood in the atrium of the gym building. Nobody else is around, except for the ghostly forms of Thurlow and Ulrica. Elwood hands Alice a big ring of keys.
“Here’s the key to Coach Hades’ office,” says Elwood, pointing it out. He also shows a very small key and says, “This is the key to the drawers in Hades’ desk. You should find a paperboard portfolio with a black pelican emblem on it, in a lower drawer. When you find that, put it in a backpack and carry it back to Mr. Moreland.”

“Is anyone else likely to come at this hour?” I ask. Alice stands with an arm around me.
Elwood glances at a clock. It’s 4:45.

“Not yet,” he says. “The custodian, Mrs. Bonaventura, will be here in half an hour. You should be in and out by then. And Mr. Skagg and Ms. Werdin will be your lookouts. Tomorrow I’m off, so I’ll start poking around under the floor for the lockbox and such. You’ll both be busy with the Templeton game here.”
Elwood leaves for the day.

Alice and I go into Hades’ office. We put on our dark goggles and rubber gloves, and unlock the desk; sure enough, we find the portfolio with the black pelican emblem on it in the bottom drawer. It’s heavily wrapped with strapping tape. We slip it and the gloves into Alice’s backpack.
We quietly close up the desk and lock Hades’ office, and leave the gym. We take the goggles off as we go out the door.

Now we walk, arm in arm, back up Bradford Street to the Morpheus, on the left side of the street, our day’s work done.
Among the oncoming traffic at an intersection, we see a beat-up old car approach with smart-aleck looking teenagers in it. This doesn’t faze Alice and me. Still, a snotty-looking kid in the right front seat hollers out to us:

[NDP]

“Hey, babe!”

“I think he’s addressing you,” I say to Alice.

“Look at me anime-eyes,” he shouts. “Why don’t you ditch head-cheese boy and get with a real playa!”

“Well, if a ‘real playa’ comes along, I’ll consider doing that,” Alice replies to the oversexed teen.

The other teenagers in the car laugh at the smart-aleck and yell “dissed” at him. Mr. Snotty, however, is still unfazed.

“Babe, didn’t I see you on TV in a movie a few nights ago?” he says obviously trying out his best pick-up line. “You’re an actress aren’t you?”

“No, I’m just a humble high school student,” Alice answers with a sardonic tone. “You apparently have me confused with someone else who’s way out of your league.”

“Yeah, you’re funny,” the snotty teen replies, “but once you take a look at what I’ve got down here for you, you’ll see that I’m no joke like head-cheese boy.”

“No, you’re pretty much a joke like no one else,” Alice replies.

“Oh, come on,” he pleads with growing desperation above the loud laughter of his friends in the car. “Just give me a chance.”

“Look,” I say, “the girl’s not interested in you. Hit the road.”

“Don’t you have a head-cheese eating contest to go to?” the snotty kid shoots back.

For a moment, I’m discomforted by the kid’s remark. How would he know about the head-cheese eating incident from years ago and how would he connect me–in my cover as a high school student–to it? Then, I conclude it’s probably some random insult. However, my unease comes back when the kid opens his mouth again.

“Yeah, loser,” he begins. "Aren’t you…

[dougie_monty]

“…related to a sousaphone player at Shoreview High?”
Now that hits home.

I tell Alice, “My older brother Grant played the sousaphone in the band at Shoreview High, Rio Hondo’s traditional rival.”
“And how would this punk know that?” Alice asks.

Ulrica and Thurlow appear, just enough so Alice and I can make them out.
“We’ll find out who those guys are,” says Ulrica, in her Leonore-like voice.

“We got their license plate number and we’ll poke around at the DMV tonight. And we’ll scan the student body tomorrow for them.”
By now Alice and I have crossed the intersection. We’re on the block where the Morpheus stands.

Now a semi behind the kids’ car sounds its horn. The kids have to move on.
“Did you ever have to deal with kids like that in your high-school days?” Alice asks.

“Now and then,” I say. “I got so I paid no attention to punks who hollered at me from cars on the street. When they saw they couldn’t get a rise out of me they stopped doing it. I lost my bike around the start of the senior year so I walked—usually on the left side of the street. How about you?”

Alice says, “I would usually muster a comeback they couldn’t answer. They might shoot back with imprecations, but they would always leave. That’s how I fended them off.”
Now Jeanette joins us. She gets out of a car filled with “Goth” kids, and waves as they pull away.

We get to the Morpheus and go inside. We go directly to the conference room, where Fred, Parker, and Buster are waiting.
Alice removes her backpack and takes the portfolio out. She hands it to Parker, who cuts the folder open with scissors.

He opens the portfolio and inspects the contents. He nods, totally satisfied.
“This is the whole enchilada,” he says. “There’s enough Threshold stuff in here to cause that organization permanent discomfiture when the DXM brass gets hold of it. You’ve done just fine. You have proved to my satisfaction that Coach Willy Hades is a Threshold person.”

“What if he notices the portfolio missing tomorrow?” I ask.
Fred smiles. “Hades won’t be at the school until around lunchtime,” he says. “And Elwood said the school is having the desks in the gym building replaced. Since he doesn’t work at the school tomorrow, he’ll be here this evening to pick it up.
“Meanwhile, I’ll copy the pages and replace the tape I cut away.”

“What about the lockbox and anything else that’s under the floor below Hades’ office?” Alice asks.
“Well, you know Elwood said he’ll prowl around tomorrow,” Fred answers. “If he doesn’t find it above ground, you both go to the gym, around midnight, after the Templeton game, in dark clothes with flashlights and a metal detector. Don Clay, Bob Long, Winifred, and Hermione will run interference for you.”

So that’s that. It’s now about 5:30.
“Let’s all go to Sam Chu Lin’s for dinner,” says Fred. Loora comes in and returns Alice and me, and Jeanette, too, to our normal configuration; she’ll give us back our teen status when we come back to the Morpheus.

We leave Buster, Jock, Lorna, Daniel, Hermione, Arthur, and Winifred in charge at the Morpheus; all the rest of us, including Stanhouse, Adler, and Goldstein, go en masse to Sam Chu Lin’s. Even Ulrica and Thurlow go with us, invisibly of course.

We have counterintelligence in mind as well as physical nourishment. We know that hostess Carol Woo, and waiter Mark Lum, will be there. Carol, of course, went to Rio Hondo with me, and Mark graduated from the local high school last year, with Irwin Sharp. Carol and Mark will likely have information for us; Jeanette may know something about the snotty kids in the car.

Alice and I sit at a table with her parents, the senior Galloways, Stan, Louise, and Jeanette, who now wears a dark brown flannel dress, with underwear.
We talk about the kids on the street. As we expected they would, Carol Woo and Mark Lum overhear us. They, and Jeanette, have some things to say about the kids Alice “dissed” at the intersection.