Pillage

  “Beck.”

  “Like Becky?”

  I instinctively made a fist. “Yeah, exactly like Becky,” I said sarcastically, having heard that one a million times before.

  “Oh,” was Milo’s only reply.

  Wind moved moisture through the air like weak sprinklers. I looked at the huge manor and started to worry about ever finding my way to my room again.

  “I should probably go in,” I said.

  “Why?” Milo asked. “Is someone waiting for you?”

  “No,” I said, realizing that there was nobody waiting for me anywhere. “I wanna explore the house.”

  “That could take you years,” Milo said, his curly black hair bouncing softly as he talked. “How many floors are there? It’s hard to tell from out here.”

  “Seven,” I answered. “But I can’t go higher than the sixth because all the doors are locked. My uncle lives in the top dome with the copper roof.”

  “Sometimes he has a light on and you can see him pacing,” Milo said.

  I looked up at the top of the manor. The dome was unlit.

  “So the manor has seven floors and a basement?” Milo asked reflectively.

  “What basement?” I asked, glancing back in the direction of the mansion. It was dark enough now that I couldn’t see it clearly from so far away. “There’s no basement.”

  “Anymore,” Milo said casually, holding onto a nearby tree like a monkey.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, confused.

  “I don’t know,” Milo said. “I just heard that years ago your uncle had the entire basement filled in with dirt.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Like I said, Beck, he’s a loon.” Milo smiled. “No offense. It’s fun to watch him pace back and forth, talking to himself. Maybe he filled in the basement just for crazy’s sake.”

  Now I wanted to see if there really was a basement as much as I wanted to see what was back behind the house in the forest.

  “Have you been to the backyard?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Milo bragged. “I live at the edge of the forest.”

  “Why doesn’t anyone want me back there?” I asked.

  “Probably because it’s a mess,” Milo said. “Or maybe there’s something secret hidden there. If you want, I’d be happy to take you there tomorrow after school.”

  “That’d be great,” I said honestly. “Are there any other kids around here?”

  “Not really,” Milo said. “The Figgins family lives nearby and they have a girl about our age. There are also a couple of kids not too far down the mountain. But most everyone lives just outside of Kingsplot or right in town.”

  I tried not to look too disappointed.

  “I should go,” Milo said. “My family will wonder if the woods have eaten me. I guess I’ll see you at school. Nice to meet you, Beck.”

  “Same to you,” I replied.

  Milo jumped away as if he were playing a lengthy game of hopscotch. It felt good knowing someone. I wasn’t alone. The thought of going to school wasn’t quite so painful now that I had met Milo. I hoped he wasn’t one of those kids that the rest of the school liked to pick on.

  The wind whistled through the trees and shrubs, sounding as if Mother Nature was taking a long drink through a thin straw.

  I touched the shrubbery again, wondering if I could make it move again. Nothing happened. I thought of what Milo had said about a basement and turned back to the house. The sky was black and only three windows in the entire mansion were lit up.

  When I reached the mansion there was no sign of a basement. The dirt and flowerbeds rested right up against the mansion with no visible basement windows or doors showing. The soil did slant up toward the house a bit, but it looked to me like there was nothing but a foundation.

  “You can’t bury a basement,” I laughed.

  I went inside and worked my way through the maze of halls and rooms until I found the kitchen. Millie was cleaning pots by herself. She noticed me and tried to smile.

  “Can I help?” I asked, accustomed to doing all the dishes when my mother was alive.

  “Certainly not,” she said. “I know my place.”

  “The food was great,” I tried.

  Millie grunted.

  “What was that green stuff?”

  “Brussels sprouts and butter,” she said, still scrubbing.

  “I’ve never seen those before.”

  “You should be in your room, Beck,” Millie pointed out. “Thomas will lock up soon and it’s best for you to be where you belong.”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  Millie sighed and opened a small wooden cupboard near her shoulders. She pulled out a jar of cookies and offered me one.

  I took one, wondering how old they were.

  “I’m not used to having children about,” she apologized. “But it’s probably wise for you to return to your room.”

  I hopped down off my stool, chewing the dry cookie. Millie picked up her clean pot and shuffled to put it away. I couldn’t help myself.

  “Is there a basement?” I asked.

  Millie dropped her pot, and the clang rang loudly throughout the entire first floor. She turned to stare me down. “What?”

  “I was just wondering if there was a basement,” I repeated lamely.

  “Do you see a basement?” she asked accusingly.

  “No, but—”

  “Who has been talking about a basement?” she asked, stepping closer to me and pushing her old face closer to mine.

  “A kid I met in the yard—Milo.”

  “That child is nothing but trouble,” she said.

  “I didn’t think we had a basement.”

  “Of course not.” Millie smiled. “Why don’t you take the rest of those cookies to your room?”

  I grabbed the cookies.

  “Sleep well.”

  “I wish I could sleep on the same floor as everyone else,” I said.

  “There’s an order to things,” she insisted, zero sympathy in her voice or inflection. “Goodnight, Mr. Phillips.”

  “Beck,” I corrected her.

  “Beck.” She smiled.

  I shuffled off slowly to my deserted floor and wondered if the home I now lived in really had a basement. And if it did, why would anyone want to hide it?

  I turned on both lights in my room and sat on the edge of the bed, facing the door. I didn’t enjoy being alone in such a huge house. I felt like I needed to be ready for anything that might pounce through the door. I stared at my doorknob. It looked like all those on the other doors in the manor—large and brass with what appeared to be a sunflower on the knob. Below the knob was some kind of creature—a dragon, maybe. The keyhole was actually the creature’s mouth.

  I listened to the wind rattle through the drafty old house and missed the cramped but contained apartment my mother and I had last lived in. I thought about Milo, and Wane, and Kate.

  I liked the last thought the best. I began to envision scenarios where I might run into her and she would wrap her arms around me and go on and on about how happy she was to see me again. As I thought of Kate, it hit me fully that this was my new home. I wasn’t here to visit, or for an extended vacation—I was here to live. I felt more invisible than I ever had; a single fish swimming in an ocean-sized home. I couldn’t imagine anyone even realizing I was here. Or caring.

  “Thanks a lot, Mom,” I sighed.

  The wind howled, and without me even realizing it, sleep pounced on me and put me out.

  Chapter 6

  The Headmaster Routine

  I couldn’t remember falling asleep, but I was painfully aware of waking up. The stupid bell on my wall rang and rang until I got up and yanked on the rope next to it.

  “I’m up!” I screamed to nobody.

  My eyelids felt like sticky pieces of clay that I had to struggle to pull open. A wet gray light dripped through the windows and spotted the floor of my room. For the first time in my li
fe, I wished I had a vase full of flowers or a colorful painting to break up the blah.

  I walked to the front window and looked down to see Thomas talking to a short stocky man with a thick black beard and wiry hair. The stocky man held a rake in his gloved hands. They were talking calmly, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  I left the window and grabbed some clothes to wear. All I really had were T-shirts and jeans, so I grabbed a green T-shirt and blue jeans and darted across the hallway to the bathroom. A pile of thick, soft towels were stacked near the sink. There was also a new bar of soap and bottle of shampoo sitting on the shower rack. Near the sink was a small bottle of tooth powder.

  “Tooth powder?” I said, confused.

  I got out my toothbrush and dumped a big shake of tooth powder on the bristles. It was one of the single worst teeth brushings I had ever endured. My mouth foamed up like a rabid dog’s.

  I showered, got dressed, and then made my way downstairs. Millie was in the kitchen talking to Wane.

  “Good morning,” Wane said, her short hair damp from being outdoors.

  “Morning,” I replied.

  “I hope you like eggs,” Millie said. “We’ve chickens and they won’t stop producing.”

  “I like eggs,” I said, wishing my stomach wasn’t as nervous as it was.

  Wane smiled. “Was everything all right with your room?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I answered. “Although I’m not sure I like tooth

  powder.”

  “Thomas bought you tooth powder?” Wane asked with surprise. “Millie?”

  “Don’t look at me,” she said. “Thomas thought that’s what kids liked.”

  “In the 1920s,” Wane said, shaking her head. “I’ll get you some real toothpaste,” she said to me.

  “Thanks. So what time does school start?” I asked.

  “The bus comes in twenty minutes,” Millie said.

  “Bus? I thought Thomas was taking me.”

  “Turns out a bus comes this far,” Millie shrugged.

  “But it’s my first day,” I said, knowing that I had handled more than my fair share of first days alone before.

  “Your taking the bus will save Thomas a number of hours,” Wane said.

  “Oh, good,” I replied sarcastically, wondering what Thomas would do with all that extra time. Maybe he would clean his ears, or work on his stiff posture.

  The breakfast Millie made was delicious. I had two biscuits the size of soccer balls smothered in thick white gravy with large bits of sausage. Millie had also made me two scrambled eggs that were fluffier and tastier than any eggs I had ever eaten before. I dipped bits of egg in the gravy and then put spoonfuls of hash browns and gravy-eggs onto slices of soft, toasted bread.

  “You’re a great cook,” I said with a full mouth.

  Millie liked that, scooping more gravy onto my plate.

  “I used to cook for many people every meal,” she bragged.

  “Where?” I asked.

  Millie looked at Wane and then back at me. “Here,” she said.

  “So a lot of people lived here?”

  “Most lived and worked here,” Millie said. “But it’s expensive to keep a full staff employed. Now finish up.”

  After breakfast Thomas drove me to the end of our driveway to wait for the bus. I could have walked it, but Thomas felt the exertion would make me too tired to study properly. I hated to inform him that I most likely wouldn’t study properly anyway, but I wanted the ride so I kept quiet.

  Outside the mansion’s gate, Thomas stopped and pointed to the spot where I should wait.

  “The bus will be here in a couple of minutes.”

  “Is there anyone at the school I should talk to first?” I asked.

  “They know you’re coming.”

  I got out of the car and Thomas rolled down his window. “A few people may talk,” he said. “But you are a Phillips and should be above it all. Don’t pay their words much mind.”

  “Okay,” I said, confused. “What—”

  Thomas rolled up his window, turned the car around, and drove back to the mansion.

  “Have a nice day,” I said sarcastically.

  The air was still gray and wet, but there were bits of blue sky in the far distance. From my vantage point, I could see the entire Hagen Valley. The town looked like small black-and-white bits stitched into a fuzzy blanket of green. There were a couple of church spires and I could see the train track running off between the mountains. Thin rays of sunlight pushed down in tight, bright streams. I wished I was standing beneath one of the rays. I loved the beautiful woods and mountains, but I missed the familiarity of the West and the large buckets of sunshine.

  I heard the bus engine coughing like a plane struggling to take off. I couldn’t actually see it until it turned the last bend and pulled into view. The bus stopped directly in front of me, its exhaust pipe belching out smoke. The door opened and a fat woman who was squeezed in behind the steering wheel smiled at me.

  “Come on,” she waved. “We’ve got a schedule. Welcome.”

  “Thanks,” I said, stepping up.

  The driver took out a clipboard and looked at the spreadsheet on it.

  “Beck Phillips?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Take any seat you wish.”

  There were only two other kids on the bus. One was Milo, and across the aisle from him was Kate. She wore her long red hair tied back with a black ribbon. Her blue eyes were big and sparkled under the dull light of day. It wasn’t exactly how I had imagined running into her, but I decided to go with it.

  “Hey, Kate,” I said nicely as I walked toward them both in the back. I kept my arms hanging by my side in case she decided to stand up and hug me.

  “Well, if it isn’t Nancy Drew,” she smiled.

  This was not going as I had foolishly dreamed. I thought about jumping out of the bus window.

  “You know her?” Milo asked me.

  “We met on the train,” Kate answered coolly. “He was investigating the Case of the Missing Passengers.”

  “Missing passengers?” Milo said.

  “Don’t ask,” Kate waved.

  “Well, it’s nice to see you too,” I said, taking the seat next to Milo.

  “I didn’t realize you were one of them,” she said.

  “One of them?” I asked.

  Kate shrugged, bored. “My family isn’t exactly big on your family,” she finally answered.

  “What’s wrong with my family?” I questioned. “I mean, I still haven’t met my uncle.”

  “He squelched on a deal,” Kate said. “He sold my father a big chunk of land and a lodge and then took back more than half the land. I’m surprised he let us keep the lodge.”

  “Sorry,” I tried.

  The bus stopped and two more kids got on. Both of the boys waved at Kate and then sat down a few rows up from us. At the next stop, a girl about Kate’s age with none of Kate’s beauty got on the bus.

  “Nervous?” Milo asked me.

  “A bit,” I said.

  “Don’t be. I’ve only been here a short while myself and it’s not too bad,” Milo said. “Are you a good student?”

  “Depends.”

  Milo liked that, laughing harder than I thought necessary and hitting me on the shoulder. Kate simply stared out the window. It was a pose I had seen her execute many times on the train.

  The bus wound down through the tunnels, filling up with students of all shapes and sizes, and eventually pulling into the town of Kingsplot. I was happy to have a seat near Milo and at least know someone.

  The bus passed through a large brick gateway and circled around a roundabout. We veered to the right, coming to a stop in front of a large, ornate building. The school looked older than time and was made of at least a million square stones. Over the front door were two smiling gargoyles and a couple of words in Latin.

  “What do the words mean?” I asked Milo, pointing.

  “
Who knows,” he answered. “ 7Prepare to be bored’? ‘Education hurts’?”

  “What’s the deal with all the gargoyles around here?”

  “Adds character,” Milo said. “Now follow me. You’ll be in my rotation of classes.”

  I followed Milo, looking at all the other kids. We walked across an enormous brick courtyard and through the side doors. Everyone looked like they had just stumbled out of a Gap ad. Nobody smiled at me.

  I wore a sneer and tried to fit in as best as possible. A number of the male students wore suit jackets and all the girls wore skirts.

  “Is there a dress code?” I asked Milo, realizing that he too had on a blazer.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Great. Thomas gets me tooth powder, but forgets this?”

  “I’m sure they’ll let you slide, seeing how it’s your first day.”

  The inside of the school was stone with large banners stretched across the walls and lights that hung down from the center of the ceiling. All the windows were up above the lockers that had obviously been installed many years after the original building had been built. Outside the high windows I could see gray sky and persistent ivy that clung to the building.

  “Come on,” Milo said, his long arm waving at me to move faster.

  I bumped shoulders with a number of students in the hall. I was happy that everyone looked about my height or shorter. I towered over quite a few of the younger kids.

  “In here,” Milo called.

  I followed Milo into a large classroom with ten rows of stadium-style seats with ten seats across each row. At the front of the room was an old desk with a blackboard standing behind it. The ceiling was high and the thin windows located around the room’s ceiling made it feel like a cave with skylights.

  Students flowed in like reluctant sludge, their body language making it clear that most of them did not want to be here. In a few minutes, the seats were filled and a shrill bell rang.

  I sat down next to Milo, hoping not to stand out.

  A bitter-looking man with thick hair and an uptight walk stepped stiffly to the front of the room. He wore a high-buttoned shirt with a thin tie and a tweed jacket. The creases on his pants were as straight and ridged as I figured his personality must be. He had bushy eyebrows and a small button nose that was slightly off center of his face. One of his eyebrows was higher than the other, giving him a constant look of suspicion. He looked familiar to me somehow.