[IC] Horror High - Freshman Year

[pathfinderq1]

And On The First Day... (Vignettes, part 2)

>(Shivani Singh, Hannah Park-Davis, ‘Rexxie’ Desmond, etc.): Lunch (Cafeteria)

‘Bloody hell. There had to be a ‘brown girls’ table, didn’t there?’ Shivani thought, as she navigated through the crowded cafeteria in search of a free seat. There weren’t many- the underclass lunch period combined freshman and sophomores, attempting to stuff almost 600 students into the dining area at the same time. And especially on the first day of school, with so many of the elements of the social order not yet set into stone for the year, it was even more chaotic than usual. But some things weren’t going to change much- Belmont High was rampantly ‘white’, and most of the non-white students, especially those who, like Shivani herself, were new to town- well, they tended to cluster at the far edges of the room. Sure enough, there was one large table with only two other girls in residence- a tall slender Asian with her nose in book, and a stocky girl with burnt-toast skin and wild frizzy curls, who seemed to be enraptured by whatever music was pulsing through her headphones; her lunch looked untouched.

Shivani took another look around the crowded room- no other seats presented themselves nearby- at least not without intruding on some budding clique or another. She sighed and stepped over to the mostly-empty table. “May I?” she asked, her tone a bit more frosty than she had intended. The Asian girl looked up from her book for a moment- she eyed Shivani briefly, glanced at the other girl, and then across the otherwise empty table. And then, without a word, she returned to her book- she might, just maybe, have given a tiny shrug. Bollocks. Shivani plopped her tray down and sat down, at the opposite end of the table.

That was enough to draw the attention of the girl in the headphones. She looked over with a broad, almost goofy smile and reached up to push the headphones back off her ears. “Hey, how’s it going? I’m Rexxie,” she gushed, extending one hand and then realizing the distance was too great for a handshake- she turned the gesture into a rather graceful wave of welcome. “Serious Girl over there is Hannah,” she added, waving now at the Asian girl- who without raising her attention from her book, gave a brief salute with one of the carrot sticks from her lunch tray. “You’ve got to be new, right?” Rexxie went on.

Shivani nodded briefly. “I’m Shivani- yes I’m a first year; I mean, a freshman.” She forced a polite smile onto her face- social graces weren’t her strong point, but she didn’t want to come off as a jerk. The dark-skinned girl’s smile widened even further.

“Ooh, you’re British aren’t you? Cool.” She waved one hand in a sweeping gesture, across the crowded cafeteria. “Welcome to Bloody Belmont! Cor Blimey, you’ll be knackered by the end of the day, for sure,” she added in a terrible attempt at a Cockney accent.

The Asian girl shot her a momentary glance, too mild to be a real glare, when she said ‘Bloody Belmont’, then swept a quick glance around the room- before returning to her book. “Don’t talk like that. You know the Powers That Be hate it when we talk about that stuff, especially to the new people,” she stage-whispered. “Why don’t you tell her why we call you ‘Rexxie’?” That got the broad smile to dim a bit, but it didn't stop her from talking...


>Outside (Tommy Wells, ?)

The thin strip of brush, inevitably laced with windblown trash, lined the northern edge of the school property, along the double-layered chainlink fence beside the commuter rail tracks. It was, in school slang, known as “the Badlands”- and it was the traditional refuge of some of the worst miscreants at this kind of sedate suburban high school; namely the smokers. The custodians did some landscaping about once a week, dragging out the worst of the trash and keeping the brush at bay, but it seemed to grow like kudzu and even in the winter it was thick enough to screen a variety of mischief. There were, supposedly, cameras back there to keep an eye out for troublemakers- but they were even less reliable than the cameras in the halls inside. Tommy Wells wasn’t worried about cameras, or about getting in trouble- his older brother Davey had been one of the biggest troublemakers in his class, and he had graduated just fine. This was, after all, Horror High- he figured the administration had bigger things to worry about. A little casual smoking, even if it wasn’t tobacco he was craving, wouldn’t cause too much trouble.

He leaned back against one of the trees that lined the fence, and fished the lighter and crude ‘cigarette’ out of an inner pocket- at least this school was too suburban to have drug-sniffing dogs, he thought with a lopsided smile. Inhale, hold, exhale… Ah, that made the day better already, he thought as he gazed up at the bright sun shining through the screen of brush. Off to his left there was a soft rustling in the scrub, and he turned languidly to glance that way. While he could see a bit of movement somewhere back there, he couldn’t see what, exactly, was moving- didn’t look like a person though- which was fine, since he wanted to neither explain nor share his habit. The rustling stopped, and Tommy’s attention wandered- he quickly found himself entranced by the sunlight rippling through the leaves.

Then there was more rustling, closer from the sound of it, and a slight shift in the wind brought a fetid stink. Tommy wrinkled his nose in disgust and shuffled to his feet- he still couldn’t see what was moving back there, but it definitely wasn’t just the wind. “Hey, who’s there?” he called, his voice a little more shrill than he liked. There was no answer, only a heavier sound that might have been a footstep in the heavy scruff that lined the railway fence. Tommy crushed the joint out against the tree trunk and took a step backwards. Suddenly a wave of irrational fear swept through the fuzz in his brain. “Screw this,” he muttered, his eyes wide. He took another step back- and felt something catch at his arm. With a startled exclamation he whirled away, a bit unsteadily- it was only the brush that lined the fence that he had run into, rasping against his sleeve, but that was enough. Sputtering, he scrambled through the screen of brush and headed back towards the school buildings.

Behind him, deeper in the brush, something took another heavy, shuffling step…

 

[pathfinderq1]

Day 1: After School (Part 1)

[sblock= Taylor and the Coach]
“Hey Taylor, could you step into my office for a minute? And close the door…”

Right up until that moment, Taylor had been feeling pretty good about his afternoon. He had last class period free two days a week, which meant he could get into the weight room and lift before the rest of his now-former teammates started streaming in to get ready for football practice. He had taken things pretty easy today- it was still August and boiling hot in the weight room, but they really did have a much better setup than he had at home, plenty of machines where he didn’t need a spotter. He missed the camaraderie that came with being on the team too, but somehow he didn’t WANT to hang around with the guys, not when he had to spend the season sidelined due to new state athletic guidelines on concussions. He felt embarrassed, somehow- like he didn’t deserve their company, if he couldn’t pull his weight on the field.

So he had done his workout, grabbed his bag, and headed for the door. Sure he was still dressed in cargo shorts and a much-abused tee shirt, and absolutely drenched in sweat- but he could be out to his car before Drew and the others showed up, and he could shower at home… He had almost made it to the door when Coach Sullivan flagged him down. “Sure thing Coach,” he replied reflexively, as he stepped into the office and dropped his heavy backpack on the floor. He swept the door shut and stood next to it, though he kept his gaze on the floor.

“I’d ask you to have a seat, but I don’t think these chairs could take it,” Coach Sullivan said amiably. “Looks like you aren’t letting that concussion hysteria s.. stuff get in the way of your workouts. Good for you. Shame you can’t play for us this year, that attitude would be a good example for some of the younger guys.”

Taylor shook his head and sputtered, started to speak- but the coach cut him off with a wave. “Now I know there’s nothing you can do about the rules. I just wanted to let you know- we still feel, and we want you to feel, that you’re still a part of this team. You were one of our captains last year. If you want to come and work out with the team, you can- no on-field stuff, I know, but you can run or lift with us if you want. And I’ll still talk with the coaches, wherever you end up applying for college. I was thinking about offering you the team manager job- but we both know that is more of a thinking-type job; you’re more physical, more hands on. I talked it over with Drew and the co-captains- you’re cleared to wear your jersey for pep rallies and stuff, and we would really like to see you in the stands when we play. AND, we’ve got Drew’s dad back as our Strength and Conditioning coach this year- he offered to help you maximize your workouts, and he said he has a new formula for protein drinks this year, really good stuff; he ‘s going to make some up for you as well. So what do you say, son- still part of this team?” His smile was so wide Taylor thought the coach’s head might split in half.

He gave a smile of his own, then looked back down at the floor. “Yeah. I DO want to be part of the team- just feels weird, like I’m not doing my part.” What he didn’t say was just how much he hated those protein drinks last year- he had ended up giving them to his sister, mostly, since she seemed to like them. “I’ll stop by tomorrow before practice and talk to Mr. Turner, I mean Coach Turner, about my workouts, talk to some of the guys.” Then he picked up his backpack and turned to the door. “But for now I’ve got to get going. Thanks, Coach. I mean it.”

“That’s the spirit, kid. I mean, Go Marauders, right?” Coach Sullivan leaned across his desk, looking out towards the hallway as Taylor opened the door. “Hey if you see Bobby Campbell out there, tell him to come on in. I’ve got to talk to him too. See you tomorrow, right?”

Taylor ducked his head and stepped out into the hall, shouldering his heavy backpack. “Sure thing, Coach. Tomorrow.” He didn’t manage to force much enthusiasm into his words, but the coach didn’t seem to notice. All the positive energy he had felt after his workout was gone now, and Taylor felt the sweat he had worked up dried to a cold, sticky crust despite the heat that suffused the whole gym. This was the sort of thing he had wanted, right? To still be part of the team… So why did it feel so wrong? So, what was the word they had discussed in English class this morning- so foreboding, that was it, like some kind of disaster was just waiting to happen. He shook his head again, and headed for the door to the parking lot.
[/sblock]

[sblock= Cleaning up a mess]
>
Eddie Torres was the Head Custodian this year, promoted in the first wave of shake-ups after Ms. Jameson took over as Principal. He wasn’t the senior Custodian- that was Bob Stone; everybody joked that he had been here since the school was built, or even that he had helped build it. But Bob wasn’t much of a leader- heck, he barely said a word, though no one could fault his work ethic. Still, Eddie knew he was a better choice as chief- but right now he would rather be just another Indian. For that matter, he would rather be visiting his relatives down in Jersey- and he hated Jersey, almost as much as he hated his relatives. He stepped back to the corner by the freight elevator and picked up the wall phone- no way he was going to get a cell signal down here… He dialed Jameson’s office, and she picked up on the first ring, like she had been waiting- that wasn’t good either. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. I’m down in Lower East, Access hallway 2, by the kitchen storage. We got something down here you probably need to see. Nothing dangerous, nobody hurt, but well, come on down. I’m taking steps already.”

He heard a muttered curse on the other end of the phone. “I’m on my way,” Principal Jameson growled, then she hung up. In his mind, Eddie could see a storm cloud forming over her head, complete with stabbing bolts of lightning. With a few choice words of his own, he walked back down towards the scene and pulled out his phone- he couldn’t get a signal, but he could take a few pictures, you know, for posterity (or really, just to make sure that he was covered- just in case). Behind him, he could he a clatter coming down the hall. Sure enough, there was Bob Stone, shuffling along like he always did- and pushing the bright red mop bucket they used for special problem messes… Eddie crouched down, and took a few good shots of the whole scene- then, moving carefully to avoid stepping in the oozing red stuff that spattered across the floors (and some of the walls), he took a few shots of some of the more recognizable spots. For the most part, it looked like random splashes- and still very fresh, still bright and wet- but here and there in the mess were a few less-random markings. They looked almost like letters or something, but not in any alphabet he recognized- maybe more like some sort of symbols, like a hellish version of that Mah-Jongg game his grandmother played. Luckily there was no body, no sign of somebody actually hurt- but there was a LOT of blood. Satisfied with the shots, Eddie leaned up against the wall and watched Bob work.

Principal Jameson took about five minutes getting to the scene- Eddie could hear her heels snapping on the linoleum tile of the service hallway- she must have used the West stairs instead of one of the elevators. He stepped back to the corner and watched her make her way down the hall- there was no storm cloud over her head, but she sure did look angry. As soon as she was close, Eddie started talking- he didn’t want her to take his head off before he could explain his thoughts here.
”Bob’s just cleaning it up right now- nobody saw it, I think. Not a lot of kids down here anyway- pool’s still closed, theater programs haven’t started yet, and kitchen space is off-limits. Especially this time of day… And I think it is still fresh, still oozing.”

Principal Jameson glared up at him- she wasn’t very tall, but she had some serious Force of Personality, Eddie had to admit. “Even so, you were told to report this sort of thing, right away,” she snapped, each word carefully and coldly enunciated. She pushed past him and stepped up to the intersection, surveying the scene.

Eddie trailed along behind her, looking over her shoulder. “I will, I mean I called you as quick as I could- I even took a couple of quick snaps with my phone so I could report it accurately- but I wanted to get it cleaned up first. No sense wasting time reporting it, and leaving it there where somebody could see it in the meantime, right? I figured if we could get Bob to clean it up fast, well… Nobody saw it, and you know what that means: No witnesses, no report, no paperwork, no evidence. That means it never happened, right? I thought that was how you wanted things. I mean, it isn’t like Bob is going to spread rumors to the kids.” He made a swift dusting motion with his hands, and offered a confident smile.
“Let me see those pictures, the ones you took,” she growled, holding out her hand impatiently. “You can send them to me later, for my files, but I want to see them- to see if this is like anything in Wright’s files, or some of the older stuff, before the uh, renovations.” When he handed his phone over, she peered at the screen, examining each image carefully before flicking to the next.

“You mean, before this place burned down, right?” he said with a chuckle, which died as she turned the screen back so he could see it.

“Is that a footprint, there at the far side of the splatter?” she asked coldly, pointing at the oddly-shaped splotch. Eddie looked, turning his head instead of asking her to turn the phone.

“Could be. If so, it is gone now- Bob started at that end, and he’s almost done.” He shook his head. “Maybe it wasn’t though- could’ve been just a smear.” Jameson shook her head, and handed the phone back.

“While I appreciate the thought, my concern here is not to have things happen, and then sweep them under the rug. Jefferson Wright tried that approach, and it worked for, what, almost six years. But not everyone made it through those years- and now he is up at McLean, in a coma, basically a vegetable. So that approach doesn’t work.” She moved closer, and stared up into Eddie’s eyes- he dropped his own gaze almost immediately as she kept talking. “What I want, and what I want my staff to help me with is to put a stop to this foolishness. Full Stop, once and for all. For the good of this school, for this town, and for these kids.” She took another step closer, and slid one well-manicured fingernail up under his chin, in a way that was not quite threatening. “I want these kids to graduate, and go to good schools- to survive to graduate. I want them to pick out a nice tux or a fancy dress to go to the prom, not to the funeral of yet another classmate. Do you understand me, Eddie?” She stepped back, but kept him locked in place with the force of her stare- almost unconsciously she reached up and rubbed one hand under her own chin and across her throat, like she was playing with the high-necked collar of her shirt.

“Of course, of course,” he finally managed to stammer. She reached out and patted him on the shoulder, a motion almost startling in its gentleness. Then she turned and started back down the hallway towards the stairs.

“Just remember to send me those pictures, when you can,” she called back over her shoulder as she strode away. “I still have quite a bit of work to do, first day of school and all. I’ll see you tomorrow Eddie. And you too, Bob.”

Eddie sagged back against the wall and took a deep calming breath. “Looks like we dodged a bullet, eh Bob? Good job there, my man.” Bob plopped the mop back into the red bucket and looked over the now-clean section of hallway. And with a faint smile and a wave, he started rolling the bucket away again.
[/sblock]

[sblock= Tasha goes home for the day]
>Tasha stumbled out the front door of the school and down the steps, more than half-blinded by the spikes of pain radiating from the back of her head. It had started as a subtle tingle in World History class- that familiar prickling feeling that she got when Something Was Wrong. Normally it would have faded away after a minute or two, leaving her nervous and jumpy for a while. Instead it had slowly but steadily gotten worse. By lunchtime she could hardly eat, and the afternoon had been nonstop torture. She had tried some of the breathing exercises and meditation that Dr. Caldwell had taught her- which had helped just enough for her to get through the day. But when the dismissal bell finally rang, Tasha had been barely able to shuffle to her locker to pack up her backpack for the trip home.

There was a thick clot of students on the sidewalk- some milling as they waited for a school bus or their parents to pick them up, others simply catching up with friends that they hadn’t seen during the school day. A few teachers were trying to keep the scrum of students in some kind of order, but Tasha ignored almost everything in her haste to get away from the school. She wasn’t quite running- between the pain in her head and the weight of her backpack, she couldn’t run, not really. As it turned out, that was a good thing. She slipped through one clot of older kids with a bit more force than she would normally have dared, drawing a handful of startled and angry comments that she didn’t even really hear- and then she stumbled off the curb, right in front of a massive silver SUV. There was the shrill blare of a horn, and Tasha, finally shocked out of her daze, found herself staring at the front grill, which seemed almost as tall as she was. She blinked groggily and stumbled back up onto the curb- at least she managed a half-hearted wave at the massive metal behemoth. One of the supervising teachers looked her way, but there were other horns clamoring for attention, and altogether too much chaos for her misstep to draw more of a response.

Just being outside of the school itself seemed to help- the spikes of pain in her head had already faded a bit, at least enough for her to think for a minute. She turned around and looked back at the front doors- it sure didn’t look like the Fifth Circle of Hell; it just looked like many other schools she had seen over the years. With a sigh, she turned away again, and stepped off the curb- carefully this time, making her way across the street with a few other students. The park that surrounded Claypit Pond looked almost inviting- there was a screen of trees along the eastern edge, but the rest of it had only a waist high hedge and an ornamental fence; both barriers were pierced at regular intervals to allow access to the walking trail that looped around the pond. Tasha trailed along with some of the other students, headed along the trail, around to Concord Ave.

Most of the others headed off to the right, the shorter route out to the bus stop on Concord- Tasha and a few stragglers made their way around to the left, towards the trees and the promise of shade against the hot late-summer sun. Those trees sheltered the eastern curve of the pond in a broad double row- that part of the park even had a few benches, set in the shade looking out over the flat glittering surface of the pond. Tasha managed to make it as far as the first bench- she half-slumped, half-flopped down, dropping her heavy backpack at her feet. She took one long, deep breath and tried to get her thoughts together.

She had survived the day, at least- it certainly hadn’t been easy, or pretty, but she had made it. The jury was still out on whether she would have any kind of social future- with some luck and some effort, her missteps today could be overcome. She even had a thick sheaf of flyers from the Activities Fair this afternoon- no sports teams or athletic clubs, obviously, but there were some pretty interesting groups she could think about joining. A few other students ambled by on the path as Tasha tried to regroup- some individuals, and a few small groups; none of them seemed to even notice her sitting on the bench- at least none of them were staring…

She had been thinking about catching the 72 bus, or maybe even walking down Concord- the Fresh Pond shopping plaza wasn’t too far. But after the day she had had so far, she just didn’t feel up to it- especially if she had to tote that backpack. Home it was, she decided, pushing herself back to her feet- she had taken the bus to school this morning, but the way the routes worked it was much easier to walk home; she had no wish to be stuck on one of the rattling yellow wrecks in this heat.

It took about twenty minutes for her to get home- across Concord Ave and then through the tangled mess of suburban streets. She finally got back to the triple-decker that she and her mom had rented a floor of, and trooped up the front steps, really straining under the weight of her pack. There was a thick sheaf of mail in the box- not doubt most of it was spam, but it DID mean that her mom wasn’t home yet, which wasn’t a surprise. Tasha managed to get the door open, and immediately dropped her backpack on the floor. She extended her arms and rolled her shoulders, then finally stripped the soft brace off her left wrist.

”Hey Mom, guess what? I didn’t get kicked out of school today!” she called to the empty apartment. ‘No promises about tomorrow though,’ she added silently. “I even picked up some flyers for a couple of clubs to try out. They have a great theater program, and a stage production club- I could help with costumes and set design, draw stuff for them to use on stage…” Leaving her bag on the floor and the pile of mail on the hall table, she made her way back into the kitchen- she hadn’t been able to eat lunch, but now that her headache had faded, she was ravenous.
[/sblock]

 

[pathfinderq1]

Horror High 1.4 (after school, day 1); Later- from daylight into darkness

[sblock= Bobby and the Coach]
>(5 PM): “Hey Bobby, can I talk to you for a few minutes? Yeah, come on in, and close the door, would you? I wanted to talk before practice, but now is just as good.”

“Sure thing, Coach Sullivan.” Bobby Campbell was a handsome boy, except the arrogant look that seemed perpetually fixed across his face. Only a sophomore, he was tall for his age, still a bit lanky but beginning to get his real growth spurt- his shoulders, at least, hinted that he was going to be a big guy in a few years, and he had a languid, almost feline grace, unusual for a teenager. He strolled into the coach’s office and sat down without being asked. “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked with a winning smile that soothed over the subtle sarcasm in his tone. He had been feeling weird all day- great, but weird; full of confidence and energy. It was something about being in this school- he knew he should have felt bad, being stuck here at a public school instead of in a higher-class private school like Belmont Hill, but…

“I know you want to be part of our team here at Belmont High, Bobby,” the coach said, leaning forward across the desk just a bit. “And I also know that you are NOT eligible to actually play this year.” Bobby’s smile flashed into a scowl, just for a second- he did NOT like being reminded of the consequences of his expulsion from private school; his father had leveled enough punishment.

Coach Sullivan smiled, a bit more broadly. “But we aren’t going to let all of that foolishness stand in our way. I mean, boys will be boys, right? It isn’t like you did anything really bad…” In fact, the coach had no idea exactly why Bobby had been expelled from the exclusive all-boys private school- but he didn’t really care either. “I mean, I’ve known your dad for years- so I’m willing to, well, bend the rules a little bit. I got the approvals all lined up for you to be our Team Manager this year- you can’t suit up or anything, but you do earn a Varsity letter, and all of the privileges that go with it. You interested?”

Bobby’s smile returned, but it was tense, wary. “I don’t know how I feel about pouring Gatorade and washing uniforms, if that is what you’re offering. I mean, no offense, but…”

The coach shook his head, his smile still expanding. “No, it is nothing like that. We’ve got freshmen for that, kids who want to play but aren’t ready yet. They’d kill for anything that makes them feel like part of the team, and we can only use a few of them on the practice squad. And we’ve got a few employees to handle the real dirty work. Manager, well, that’s for somebody with brains, somebody who is willing to LEAD. We would be asking you to handle some of the scheduling of tasks for the grunts, but you don’t need to get your own hands dirty. If you pick anything up, it is something important, like one of the playbooks. You’d be more like a junior coach or something. And, more importantly, you would learn a lot about how we play the game, down here at Belmont High- so next year, when you are eligible to play, and when we are looking for a new quarterback, since Drew is going to graduate, well you would be in a pretty good spot. And, even if you can’t suit up, or take the field, you can do some of the off-field workouts and stuff- we’ve good a really good Strength and Conditioning coach on board. You want to think about it, at least?”

Bobby’s smile widened just a bit- now it had a dangerous, almost feral edge to it, the sort of smile that rang alarm bells for most normal people. “I think I’ll take it. When do I start?”
[/sblock]

[sblock= The Three]
>(7 PM): Ashley Morgan, Rowena McKenzie, and Holly Merritt had been best friends practically since kindergarten. By the fourth grade, they were all but inseparable- and by junior high almost everyone referred to them as “The Three”. Their friendship had been solidified by a mutual love of the Harry Potter franchise- especially the books. They didn’t talk about it at school (they were Popular after all, not lowly geeks) but when they were alone, they dissected the stories voraciously. And as the years went on, that fascination fostered an interest in many other facets of the occult, and the study of magic. They were not, after all, particularly serious students (none of them wanted to spend the effort needed to learn, like, Latin or Sumerian, not when there was crucial shopping to do)- but they had spent many amusing hours with a Ouija board, or with various old books that they had picked up at tag sales around town, or funky little shops over in Boston.

And in their own secret hideout, their private sanctuary- what they called simply ‘The Place”, they decorated accordingly. The Place had started out as a two-car detached garage with an in-law apartment above it- Ashley’s father had converted it into a massive man-cave. When he left after the divorce, Ashley had claimed the space for herself and her friends. Especially after the divorce Ashley’s mom let her get away with almost anything, in a kind of misguided display of love for her only daughter, so The Place was very much their private space- no one besides the Three had seen the inside of the little building in years… It had gone through a number of changes over time, from a Barbie dream house, to the castle of some Disneyesque princess- and as their interest in magic grew, it had evolved in some kind of wizard’s lair that would have been right at home in Hogwarts. In an old and wealthy town like Belmont, you could find all kinds of things that fit the Potter aesthetic- old books, crystals and knick-knacks of all kinds, even old rugs that were woven with ‘magical’ symbols…

The floor was brushed and sealed concrete, mostly covered by those old rugs- but there was one clear space in the center of the room, for them to draw their ‘magic circles’; it was covered with a small rug most of the time, simply for comfort, but preparing it didn’t take long. And propped on top of one of the bookshelves was their honorary mascot- a dark-colored fuzzy rabbit; it was one of those BunBun talking toys that had been so popular back in 2014. It had never worked right, spouting only random static- but when the recall went out they had simply taken the batteries out of it and ‘adopted’ it, nicknaming it ‘Oswald the Magic Rabbit’. Oswald kept watch on the Place when they were out, and its ‘supervision’ was an integral part of their “magic rituals”.

This year they were seniors, and they had long since decided that they were going to have things their own way this year. After all their years together, it seemed likely that they would be going off to different colleges next fall- so this was going to be THEIR year, the one they could still talk about when they were old and grey, like even forty or something. They had been preparing the whole summer, scouring the local sales and shops for just the right elements- and now the school year was here, the first day of classes was done. Ashley, Rowena, and Holly had all hurried through dinner in the separate houses, and then hurried out to The Place. By the time her friends arrived, Ashley had lined up the candles and stuff for tonight’s big ritual- but they had discussed this before; they were going to wait until the time was right to get things started. Midnight was, of course, the right time- and that was still hours away.

So Ashley had been setting up some little lamps, some drinks and snacks and stuff. They could spend a few hours doing their homework and chatting together, going over the most minute details of the first day of school- best friends or not, they did have separate classes and schedules, so there was plenty to talk about, to pass the time until midnight…
[/sblock]

[sblock= Some kind of animal]
>(11:15 PM): “Belmont 911- what is your emergency?”

“Yeah, listen, I got some kind of animal out on my back porch. I think it might be a bear.”

“Sir, you said you have a bear on your back porch? What is your address please?”

“I’m at XXX Channing, down across the tracks from the high school. I don’t know if it’s a bear- we used to have lights out back, to keep the kids from cutting across the tracks after school, but… Whatever it is, it sounds really big, and really mad. It keeps growling like a damn chainsaw, and it is clawing at the back door.”

“Sir, we have a unit headed your way now. He is going to crank his lights and siren when he arrives, to see if we can scare this thing off. Can you stay on the line with me until he gets there, in case something changes?”

“You mean, in case it gets in, right? I sure hope not- we had a break-in a few years back and we put in a reinforced door. If it can get through that…”

“Belmont dispatch to BE-23. Be advised, we have a second call on that possible animal at XXX Channing. Came from a neighbor, concerned about the noise. May be a large dog, or several- could even be a bear like the first caller thought; it might have followed the tracks in from Metrowest, Framingham had two bear calls last week. Approach with caution- we have a second unit on the way for back-up.”

“This is BE-23 to Belmont dispatch. I am arriving at XXX Channing now- I just gave a blast of the lights and siren and we’ve got house lights coming on all down the block. You may get some more calls. I’m out of the unit, headed around back. I can hear something back there, definitely a loud growling type of noise. I’m going to pop the trunk for the shotgun- put it in the call log.”

“Belmont dispatch to BE-23. Caller is off the phone, but by the front door. Be advised BE-27, Sergeant Riggs gives an ETA of three minutes- he is going to pop his siren when he arrives, so keep your ears open.”

“BE-23 to Belmont dispatch. I’m around the corner of the garage- I just saw motion at the edge of my light, and the sound has faded. Whatever it is, I think it might be headed back down towards the tracks. Maybe advise MBCR of a large animal in their right-of-way. Can you reroute BE-27 over to the high school, make sure whatever this is, it doesn’t just go straight across to school property? I didn’t get a good look at it, but it definitely sounds like it is moving out. I’m going to look around a bit, maybe take some pictures or samples if it did any damage to the porch or the door…”

“BE-23 to dispatch. I’m looking at the porch right now. I don’t think this was a dog- maybe it was a bear after all, but whatever it was, it clawed the heck out of this door. I’m going to take pictures with the digital for the report. Looks like maybe some fur here too, caught in the splinters on the porch steps and rail. I’m going to collect some of this- we can send it out to be analyzed…”
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