Tales From Lovecraft Middle School #2: The Slither Sisters Read online

  The children grew up in Tillinghast Mansion. For years, they were the best of friends. “It was a wonderful house back in the old days,” she explained. “Warm, cheerful, full of light. My brother and I spent our days reading books and playing hide-and-seek. But everything changed after Crawford left for college and discovered his ‘research.’ ”

  As a young man studying physics, he pioneered a unique theory of alternate dimensions. Crawford believed there were worlds within our world—“invisible lands,” he called them, occupied by ancient and powerful beasts. His classmates called him crazy. Even his professors mocked his wild ideas. Eventually Crawford became so disgusted, he dropped out of college.

  Claudine was the only person who never lost faith in him. When Crawford returned to the family home, he used all his money to build a laboratory in its basement. “And I became his lab assistant,” Ms. Lavinia explained, “because I was the only person who believed in him.”

  For years, they worked together in the laboratory, searching for invisible lands without success. The days were long. They rose at dawn and worked for twelve hours or more. Crawford constructed dozens of outrageous machines and Claudine worked alongside him, testing the devices and taking detailed notes. There were no vacations, no holidays, no time for anything resembling fun. Crawford only had time for research. He was obsessed.

  “And then one morning something incredible happened,” Ms. Lavinia continued. “Crawford sent me to the beach to collect some tidal pool specimens. Sea stars, anemones, barnacles—we were always running experiments on something. But that morning, there was another man on the beach. The handsomest man I’d ever met. You’ll have to forgive the cliché, but it was love at first sight.”

  Soon Claudine was spending all her time with Warren Lavinia, a marine biologist who worked at the Dunwich Marine Museum and Lighthouse. They spent many wonderful hours together in a tall tower overlooking the rocky coast—such a sunny and cheerful place compared to Tillinghast’s damp, dank basement laboratory.

  When Crawford learned that his sister was marrying Warren—and leaving the lab—he was furious. He refused to attend her wedding, and he replaced Claudine with a team of scientists and their families.

  “He called my marriage a betrayal. He said his work was far more important than any silly romance. I tried to make amends, but he never forgave me.”

  Then came the infamous fire, in which Crawford Tillinghast and seventeen other people lost their lives—or so she thought. “For thirty years I was happily married while Crawford was trapped in the alternaverse. But now that the gates are open, my brother is having his revenge. He keeps me enslaved. I clean his rooms, I prepare his meals, I serve his disgusting beasts like they’re royalty. At night I sleep on a cold stone floor.” She paused to check her wristwatch. “And if I leave Tillinghast or the school for more than an hour, he will send his monsters after my husband and kill him.”

  “That’s not fair,” Robert said.

  “Can we stop him?” Glenn asked.

  “I honestly don’t think it’s possible,” said Ms. Lavinia. “With the gates open, he can access our world at will. He can capture students one by one and replace them with monsters. He’s amassing an army like nothing the human world has ever seen. Even with all our weapons and computers, I don’t think we’re any match for it. Our best hope is to slow him down. To buy more time. I’m here tonight to ask for your help.”

  “Of course we’ll help,” Robert said.

  “Totally,” Glenn said. “We don’t want to be stuck in jars for the rest of our lives. We’ll do anything.”

  “Excellent,” Ms. Lavinia said. “We need Robert to run for president of student council. And he needs to win. The election is Friday, so you’ll have to work quickly.”

  At precisely that moment, Pip and Squeak came racing out of the kitchen, tracking salad dressing all over the linoleum floor. Robert grabbed a roll of paper towels and ran after them, wiping up their tracks. Once he had finished, the rats hopped onto the sofa and nuzzled their heads into Ms. Lavinia’s belly. Robert expected her to be horrified, but instead she just scratched his pets behind their necks, like she was greeting baby kittens.

  “You’re such a cutie-pie,” she whispered.

  “Can we go back to what you said earlier?” Robert asked. “About student council?”

  Ms. Lavinia nodded. “If Sarah wins this election, she will control the student body. And if she controls the student body, then it’s only a matter of time before she literally controls the students’ bodies. Do you understand?”

  “But why me?” Robert asked. “Can’t we help Howard Mergler win instead?”

  Ms. Lavinia shook her head. “I have seen student councils come and go for thirty years. Mr. Mergler has good ideas and honest intentions. But he has no chance of beating Sarah Price.”

  “Then how about Glenn?”

  “I’m afraid Mr. Torkells is ineligible. Too many disciplinary infractions.” This was a polite way of saying that Glenn had a history of getting into trouble. At their previous school, he held the record for most detentions in a single year.

  “I wish I could help,” Robert said, “but I have no idea how to run for president.”

  “It’s very simple,” Ms. Lavinia said. “Tomorrow morning, you go see Mr. Loomis. He’s the faculty advisor for student council. You ask him to put your name on the ballot, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “But I can’t win,” Robert insisted. “I’m not a leader.”

  Ms. Lavinia shrugged. “Well, I’m afraid you need to become one.”

  NINE

  The next morning, before classes started, Robert went to see Mr. Loomis.

  A lot of kids made fun of Mr. Loomis. He had a reputation for being a pushover. If you ever needed an extension for a book report because of a “sick grandmother,” Mr. Loomis was the man to ask. And he was universally mocked for wearing pastel-colored sweater vests—pale yellow on Mondays, robin’s-egg blue on Tuesdays, girly pink on Wednesdays, and so on, always in the same order, week after week.

  So Robert never admitted to anyone, not even to Glenn, that Mr. Loomis was his favorite teacher at Lovecraft Middle School. He taught language arts, Robert’s favorite subject, and he was always writing encouraging notes at the bottom of Robert’s assignments: You have good ideas, the most recent one said. You should share more in class!

  When Robert arrived, Mr. Loomis was sitting at his desk, eating a bran muffin and reading the local newspaper, the Dunwich Chronicle. “Hey, Robert, listen to this,” he said. “A woman was walking on the docks last week? Down by the water? And she swears she saw a leprechaun swimming out of the ocean. ‘She described the creature as a tiny man, three inches tall.’ ” Mr. Loomis shook his head. “People are crazy.”

  “I want to run for president,” Robert said.

  “Right, exactly!” Mr. Loomis said. “ ‘I want to be a movie star!’ ‘There are leprechauns on our beaches!’ Where do people get this stuff?”

  “No, I’m serious,” Robert insisted. “I want to lead the student council.”

  Mr. Loomis closed his newspaper. “The election is Friday. Two days from now. Sarah Price has been campaigning for weeks.”

  “I can win,” Robert said.

  Mr. Loomis shook his head. “Not in two days, you can’t. She’s got momentum. It’s too late. Why don’t you try out for Handwriting Club? They always need fresh faces.”

  “I want to be president,” Robert said.

  “Why?”

  Robert realized he lacked a convincing answer to this question. Because Ms. Lavinia told me to? Because the Price sisters are monsters in disguise? Because they’re planning to capture the soul of every student attending Lovecraft Middle School?

  “Look, Robert, I’m going to be frank,” Mr. Loomis said. “I know you were redistricted. I know all your old classmates are at Franklin Middle School and you got stuck here. You don’t know anyone and that stinks. Am I right?”

  “
Yes.”

  “So let me ask you a tough question. And I’m sorry if this sounds mean. But who do you think is going to vote for you?”

  “I don’t know,” Robert admitted. He knew Mr. Loomis was right. Robert’s only friends at Lovecraft were a bully, a ghost, and a two-headed rat—and only one of those friends could actually pull a voting lever. “I guess I just want to try. I don’t care if I lose. Our school deserves better than Sarah Price. Deep down inside, I think she’s a … monster.”

  Mr. Loomis shook his head. “I won’t tolerate name-calling in this election. You can disagree with her policies, but I don’t want to hear any personal attacks. You keep it clean. Do you understand?”

  “Are you saying you’ll do it?” Robert asked. “You’ll put me on the ballot?”

  Mr. Loomis’s reply was lost under the sudden wail of a blaring siren. Lovecraft Middle School was equipped with a state-of-the-art fire safety system. Whenever an alarm was triggered, the siren could be heard in every corner of the school, and all doors automatically unlocked, so that no student would be trapped in the blaze. Robert and Mr. Loomis were hurrying to the door when the alarm stopped short and Principal Slater’s voice came over the PA system. “Please excuse that test of our emergency alert system,” she said. “I repeat, the alarm has been canceled.”

  Mr. Loomis pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he was fending off a sudden headache. “Every time that stupid alarm goes off, I feel like I’m losing my mind,” he complained. “What were we talking about?”

  “The ballot,” Robert said. “Will you put me on?”

  “If you insist on being part of the election, yes,” Mr. Loomis said. “But you’d better start preparing for the presidential debate on Friday morning. I’m asking tough questions and the whole school will be watching. You don’t want to embarrass yourself.”

  Mr. Loomis explained that Robert would need to sign a written application and then went to the main office to retrieve it. Robert sat at a desk and waited for him to return. His ears were still ringing from the alarm, so he didn’t hear soft footsteps sneaking into the classroom; he didn’t see Sarah and Sylvia until they were nearly on top of him.

  “This is so disappointing,” Sarah said. “Master is very upset.”

  “And now you’re making things worse,” Sylvia said. “You think you can defeat my sister?”

  Sarah laughed. “He’s just a child. Look at that baby face! No one will vote for him.”

  Robert rose from the desk but he was unable to back away. There was something hypnotic about their gaze; his feet felt anchored to the floor. He tried to look brave.

  “We know you’re scared,” Sarah said, and her long purple tongue flicked out of her lips, dripping gooey saliva. Her pupils narrowed to thin vertical slits. “We can smell your fear.”

  Sylvia reached for Robert’s wrist. Her fingers were cool and dry, like the texture of a leather shoe. “And we know about your nightmares. Master is keeping his eyes on you. You’re wise to be afraid.”

  They took turns whispering to him:

  “Tell Loomis you made a mistake.”

  “Tell him you changed your mind.”

  “You’re just a child.”

  “You’re too weak to fight us.”

  And Robert knew they were right—he was too weak. He was too scared even to make eye contact. How was he going to debate them in front of the entire school?

  “Allrighty, I’m back!” Mr. Loomis announced, entering the classroom with paperwork in hand. “Oh, hello, girls! Did Robert share his big news?”

  In an instant, Sarah retracted her tongue and her pupils popped back to normal. “It’s wonderful!”

  “We’re so excited!” Sylvia gushed. “Democracy flourishes with competition!”

  Mr. Loomis placed the application in front of Robert, handed him a pen, and showed him where to sign. “Last chance to back out,” he warned. “Are you sure you really want to do this?”

  “No,” Robert said, but he went ahead and put his signature on the document anyway. He felt like he was signing his life away.

  TEN

  At lunchtime, Ms. Lavinia invited Robert, Glenn, and Karina to her office in the back of the library, where they met with the shades drawn and the doors locked. “If my brother learns I’m helping you, he’ll rip my head off,” she said. “And that’s not what your language arts teachers call hyperbole.”

  They had gathered to make campaign posters. Ms. Lavinia had prepared a large worktable and supplies—different colors of paper, magic markers, glue sticks, scissors. “We’re going to start by identifying your message. The thing that makes you different from the other candidates. Sarah Price is pretty and popular. Howard Mergler is smart with big ideas. Robert Arthur needs to give students a third choice.” She leaned over a poster with a marker, scrawled a single word, and then held it up for them to read: STRENGTH.

  “I don’t get it,” Robert said.

  “This is your message,” Ms. Lavinia explained. “You’re strong.”

  Glenn laughed. “Have you seen his biceps? They’re like chicken wings! My grandmother has more meat on her bones!”

  Robert cringed at the jokes but knew they were true. Yesterday’s incident in the swimming pool was only the most recent demonstration of his weakness. In gym class, whenever Coach Glandis led the students through their daily dozen push-ups, Robert could never keep pace. He was always far behind the other boys.

  “Glenn’s right,” he admitted. “I don’t think I should brag about my muscles.”

  “You’re confusing muscles with strength,” Ms. Lavinia said. “They’re two different things. Muscle is animal tissue that contracts to produce force or motion. Strength is a character trait. It’s resolution, determination, making difficult choices …”

  Robert had already stopped listening. Nothing Ms. Lavinia said would change the fact that he weighed ninety pounds and still needed help opening jars of spaghetti sauce. In the world of seventh-graders, this made him a grade-A weakling.

  Together they formed an assembly line. Ms. Lavinia began each poster by writing a slogan in large block letters. Karina offered color suggestions, and Robert and Glenn inked the letters with different shades of magic marker. Each time a poster was finished, Pip and Squeak would emerge from a tray of glitter glue and walk its perimeter, framing it with sparkles. The work was slow and tedious, and after just ten posters, Glenn complained that his fingers were cramping.

  “If you think you’re cramped now, try spending the rest of your life in a one-gallon jar,” Ms. Lavinia said, slapping another piece of paper in front of him. “Keep coloring.”

  They worked through lunch, and after school Robert and Karina returned to make more. Each poster offered a different message about Robert’s extraordinary strength. ROBERT ARTHUR FIGHTS FOR YOU. ROBERT ARTHUR WILL NOT BACK DOWN. ROBERT ARTHUR WILL NOT GIVE UP. Robert felt like the posters were describing someone other than himself—a fictional Super-Robert who was bigger and braver than his real-life counterpart.

  At the end of the afternoon, Robert and Karina walked to the nearest exit.

  Since there were no other students around, he allowed Pip and Squeak to walk freely behind them. The rats loved any opportunity to get out of the backpack.

  “So what do you do at night?” he asked Karina. “After everyone leaves?”

  “I spend a lot of time hiding from janitors,” she said. “Once they leave, I can listen to music in the band room. Or I’ll read in the library. The nurse’s office has a nice cot for lying down.” It sounded awfully lonely to Robert. He didn’t say anything, but Karina spoke as if she’d read his mind. “The nights aren’t bad, but the weekends are terrible. Saturdays and Sundays drag on forever.”

  “Maybe you can come to my house sometime,” he suggested.

  “I wish I could,” she said, “but it doesn’t work that way.”

  She didn’t elaborate and Robert didn’t press for details. He knew she was confined to the grounds of Love
craft Middle School but didn’t understand why. Whenever he asked Karina about her life as a ghost, she always changed the subject, as if she preferred to be seen as a living, breathing, flesh-and-blood girl.

  “Let me ask you something,” Karina said. “What are you wearing tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know,” Robert said. “Clothes?”

  “You can’t wear just anything. You’re running for office now. You need to dress like a leader.”

  “What, like a suit?”

  “Wear your red shirt with the little squares. And tuck it in, okay?”

  Robert saluted her. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  She scowled and swatted his arm. Her fingers passed right through him, raising goose bumps on his flesh, and he fought the urge to shiver. “You can win this thing,” she said. “I know you don’t think so, but I do. I believe in you.”

  An awkward moment passed. Robert had recently decided that ghost kids were different from regular kids. Karina talked more than any human friend he’d ever had. She offered advice on what clothes he should wear and often she surprised him by saying the nicest things, like “I believe in you.” The kids at his old school would never say things like “I believe in you.” Sometimes Robert didn’t know how to answer her.

  “Well, good night,” he finally said. “Watch out for janitors.”

  “You, too.”

  “Me, too?”

  “Good night to you, too,” Karina said, flustered, already retreating into the shadowy hallways of the school. “See you tomorrow.”

  ELEVEN

  Robert was determined to get stronger, so he devoted the entire evening to exercise. He practiced all the calisthenics he’d learned in gym class: sit-ups, jumping jacks, leg lifts, and lunges. And once an hour, he lay down on the floor of his bedroom and forced himself to do push-ups. At eight o’clock, he did fifteen in a row. At nine o’clock, he did half as many. By ten o’clock, he barely squeezed out three and a quarter.