Parent Meeting

>”Hello again, Cold.”
>”Hi Maxwell. How’ve you been?”
>”I have read every book in the school library.”
>”What? All of them?”
>”Yes.”
>”Come on, that’s not possible.”
>”Oh. It isn’t?”
>”No. I’ve only been able to read one book since we talked.”
>”Yes, one, that’s how many I’ve read.”
>”You need to come up with something more believable if you’re going to trick me. What did you read?”
>”The Haunter of the Dark.”
>”How was that?”
>”It breaks from several of the author’s usual conventions, to the greater benefit of the story. Although at points the narrative direction becomes unorganized, the end product is good, and recommendable.”
>”I’ll have to check it out. Thanks for the suggestion.”

***

As per usual, Mr. Steward was behind his desk, letting the students act how they wanted through the period. But this time, the Wooden Girl had something on her mind when she came to class.

“How come you never mentioned our school won a theater competition?” She said after hearing the bell ring.

Mr. Steward put down his book and looked at her quizzically. “We’ve never participated in a theater….” As his voice trailed off, his eyes glazed over. “… Yes… I… remember now. The Annual Amateur Musical Competition. Our production of ‘Shoggoths’ won us first place.” He stared blankly at a spot on the wall, as if trying to remember more, but Wooden cut his train of thought.

“Why don’t we enter the contest again this year?”

“Hm? What?” It took a moment for Steward to focus back on the present, but when he did, he laughed. “With this class? I don’t think most of them are capable of singing.”

“What if I got people who could?”

“Excuse me?”

“What if I found other people to participate in the play?”

Steward thought for a moment. “It would be nice to work with a real cast again. You’d need to pick out a play, but I’ve got some scripts in my office that could be used…. I’ll have to speak with Mr. Dooling for the band and choir’s participation….”

“So we’ll do it?”

“Maybe. See if you can find a cast first. Then I’ll think about it.”

That was good enough for Wooden Now she just had to round up some volunteers….

***

Mr. Omega carefully cleared off his desk in a doomed effort to make it look orderly. Where had all these things come from, anyways….

He heard a knock on his office door, and said, “Come in.” And man and a women entered the room. Both had appearances that were nothing short of stunning. The women had long auburn hair and red eyes, and wore a small red dress that left very little to the imagination. The man had similarly colored eyes, and hair which somehow seemed to billow in a nonexistent wind. Several of his shirts buttons were undone, showing a muscular chest.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Red Cap.” Omega said while extending his hand in greeting. “Thank you for coming. I wanted to speak with you about your son, Dying Man.”

“Oh please, call me Miss Red Cap.” She ignored the hand and gave Omega a tight hug. “How’s our darling little boy?”

“Well, unfortunately, some issues have risen which may require your attention. Please, take a seat.” He gestured at two chairs in front of his desk. Mr. Red Cap sat in a chair, then Ms. sat in his lap. Omega got behind his desk, and pulled out a manila folder. “Mr. Lowe has expressed to me concerns about your son’s performance in school. I was hoping we could discuss a solution.”

“Oh, surely a few bad grades won’t be too much trouble!” Mr. Red Cap said. “I remember I always had better things to do with my time than study when I was his age!” He tickled Ms.’s side, and she playfully slapped his hand away.

“This is a bit more than a few grades.” Mr. Omega started to say, but the two were already lost in their own conversation.

“Remember our junior year homecoming game?”

“When we snuck under the bleachers?”

“And I brought the length of string?”

“I think I still have my cheerleader outfit packed away!”

“We can pick up a new pair of handcuffs on the way home!”

“And I’ll make the balloon animals!”

***

Dying slouched through the hall toward the counselor’s office. He wasn’t going to complain about getting out of class, but he’d learned pessimism was the best strategy when dealing with school officials.

When he reached the office, he saw his parents making very unusual hand gestures in front of a man listening in horrified fascination. Oh god, they were telling the bowling ball story….

“Dying Man, there you are!” The man said, seizing on the opportunity to escape. “I’m Mr. Omega, the guidance counselor. I wanted to speak with you and your parents.”

“But we haven’t gotten to the best part of the story!” Mr. Red Cap said.

“That’s… that’s alright. I don’t think it would be appropriate to tell with your child here….”

“Oh, that’s alright, he already knows it. We had him film it for us.”

“Even so, we still have some other matters to discuss!” Omega quickly said. “Now, one of Mr. Lowe’s suggestions was more parental involvement in your son’s school. He thinks that if you show more investment in his education, it will cause your son himself to become more invested.”

Dying tried shouting “No!” as fast as he could, but his dad spoke first. “That sounds like a wonderful idea!”

“I’m glad you think so. Here’s a list of volunteer opportunities we have for parents. I hope you find something interesting to you on it. ThankyouforyourtimeIhopetospeakwithyouagainsoon.” He quickly rushed Dying and the Red Cap out of his office, then closed the door.

Phew. The job description for guidance counselor had said it was about talking to troubled students and helping them out. So why was it Omega felt like his real job was trying to make sure everyone in this school kept their clothes on?

>Hi Maxwell
>Hello Cold. It’s been a few days; how have you been?
>I’ve been good. Sorry about not talking. Mr. Lowe had us read “At the Mountains of Madness,” and during lunch I’ve been asking Mr. Sigma to show me other books by that author.
>Do you enjoy reading?
>It’s okay. I like the books Mr. Lowe gives us at least. And we’ve got a few other good books in the library.
>Interesting. I think I will start reading through the library’s archive of books.
>I could recommend some of my favorites, to you, if you want.
>That would be appreciated, thank you.

***

“That will be all for today.” Mr. Lowe said. “Please read through chapter six by our next class, and be ready to answer your reading questions.”

Students rushed out the door, but Mr. Lowe stopped one before he left. “Dying, I need to speak with you.”

The Dying Man sullenly walked to Mr. Lowe’s desk. “What?”

“I wanted to talk to you about the work you’ve been doing. You haven’t turned in half your assignments, and what you have turned in isn’t near as good as I know you can do. If you don’t improve, you’re going to fail this grading period.”

If Lowe had been hoping the threat of failure would trigger a reaction, he was disappointed. Dying shrugged and kept silent.

“I want to help you Dying, but you need to communicate with me. If we can’t come up with a solution to your grades, I’ll be forced to contact your parents.”

“Go ahead. They don’t care about anything I do.”

Ah, Mr. Lowe thought to himself. “If that’s really what you want me to do, I’ll schedule an appointment with Mr. Omega.”

“Fine.” And without another word, Dying shuffled out of the room.

***

Empty High stood locked in a single moment, all its students and staff frozen in place. Principal Jack walked through the motionless crowds, silently observing the activity of his school. Everything was going predictably. Everything was happening within the safe, reasonable boundaries of the school. Not one thing out of the ordinary was occurring.

How terribly boring.

Principal Jack went outside to observe Coach Ferris’s PE class. The coach had his students climbing the school’s rock wall. Idly, Principal Jack snapped his fingers, and the safety rope on a student near the top vanished.

Hm. Still not exciting enough. Perhaps a spike pit beneath the student?

Snap.

A spike pit on fire.

Snap.

A spike pit on fire and filled with flame resistant sharks.

Snap.

Principal Jack grinned at his creation, imagining the chaos which would ensue the moment he let time resume. Of course, Coach Ferris would manage to dive in and save the student before he fell to his death. Principal Jack wasn’t a monster.

The grin quickly faded away. It still wasn’t enough. He needed more than a passing gag. He needed… narrative. Plot. Conflict. DRAMA.

The principal walked back into the school, dwelling on this problem. He wandered the hallways without thought to his direction, until chance took him by the Wooden Girl.

Ah, yes. He was particularly proud of this piece of work. The makeup was a nice touch, he felt. It was so heavily padded on that, in this frozen state, she almost did look like a puppet. The only detail out of place was the eyes: there was far too much fire in them to ever be mistaken for something not alive.

And like that, an idea came to Principal Jack. Yes, here was a story he could use. He raised his gloved right hand, and snapped his fingers.

***

The Wooden Girl stomped down the hallway in boots that could have crushed skulls. She hated going to theater class. She kept telling herself she should stop showing up. Yeah, that’s what she’d do. There were probably tons of better things she could be doing instead of going there. Tomorrow, tomorrow she’d skip it. The day after tomorrow. Next week. One of these days. One of these days, she would stop going to theater class! This she swore!

She was so lost in her internal rage that she didn’t notice the crowd of Nightlanders until she crashed into them. They didn’t seem to notice her collision with their group, and kept moving forward, carrying her along with them. Wooden shouted at them to let her go, and when that did nothing, started kicking and biting the shadows around her. But even that didn’t make them release her, until they had reached a part of the school Wooden had never seen before. The group dropped her, and quickly rushed away.

“Hey!” She shouted after them. “You come back here and apologize RIGHT NOW!” Several students around her felt the sudden urge to beg for forgiveness, though for what they weren’t sure. But those she had been shouting at ignored her.

Well, great. Now how was she supposed to make it to class? She had no idea where in the school she was. Seething with rage, she picked a direction at random and walked in it.

Trophy cases lined either side of the hall. This was certainly new. Wooden hadn’t realized this school had ever won anything. She looked over the trophies and plaques, without really paying attention, until one word caught her eye. “Theater.”

It was a small trophy, but a trophy nonetheless. Next to it was a newspaper article titled, “Empty City High Theater Team Wins Annual Amateur Musical Competition With Production of ‘Shoggoths on a Roof’.” There was a picture with the article, showing Mr. Steward standing in front of several students, holding the trophy. It was the only time Wooden had ever seen the man smiling.

So… the theater class did do things, once. Interesting.

It was only a small thought, at first. But it would grow into something larger.