The Unfortunate Story of Roddy Mayhem, Julie Steimle [i can read book club TXT] 📗

hospital like you said, then she’s in good hands. And I’ll make sure of it.”

Ms. Amherst turned her steely eyes on him. Rick gazed back. His gray eyes seemed to go cold. I could feel the hairs prickle up on my arms. The wolf in him became a little more evident as he eyes, for a second, went actually wolfish. He then cocked his head to the side and said most casually, “You know, this reminds me of the time our headmaster—my first headmaster—called an SRA hunter on me my second full moon here.”

I hadn’t heard this story. I was intrigued.

“She got someone who was very important to me killed,” he said, his voice shaper than usual. “And the entire school rose up against her. In fact, they got her ousted.”

No kidding, I thought. The students had gotten a headmaster thrown out? My skin shivered as I listened to him. His imps were screaming for him to threaten Ms. Amherst with a similar removal from her teaching position.

But he only said, “Should any danger happen to any of the students here via a teacher or a dangerous student, trust me when I say, I will take care of it.” He then gestured for me to come with him so we could go to Mr. Wilderman’s office.

“And what if they are the threat?” Ms. Amherst asked, pointing to me.

Halting, looking back, Rick smiled at her. “That can be easily assessed, madam. I will bring in experts to sort it all out.”

“It’s Ms.,” she said, her face completely pale while her eyes were like ice on us.

Rolling his eyes, Rick continued on. “Of course it is.”

I followed him.

In Mr. Wilderman’s office, Rick explained my absence and begged the headmaster to excuse it—for my sake. I could hear Mr. Wilderman’s imps screaming for him to give me lifelong detention for the damage in the detention room. But the man only said, “I understand that Roddy is under enormous strain right now. But that does not allow him to sneak off like that.”

Rick moaned. “Mr. Wilderman—”

“Stop.” The headmaster shook his head chidingly at Rick. “No. We have rules. I realized you still don’t take much stock in rules, even as an adult—”

“There are extenuating circumstances, sir,” Rick protested. But I got the distinct sensation Rick was suddenly feeling like a kid back at school, facing a headmaster that had always intimidated him a little. It was fascinating to watch. I never thought anything would intimidate such a wolf.

“—but for the safety of the students, all students who wish to have a day off need to report to the school nurse and apply for it.” The headmaster also seemed to be a little fatter. Chubbier in the cheeks. It was a weird shape for him. A week ago, he was rather lean.

“Fine,” Rick snapped. He looked to me with an eye roll. “Roddy, next time, do the paperwork.” His imps were screaming to tell me to, next time, simply sneak back into the school when no one was looking and pretend to have been sick in bed.

I chuckled.

Mr. Wilderman’s face went wan on us both. But he said to Rick, “Oh… please no. Not again. Don’t you team up with another imp.”

Rick blinked innocently at him. “What? Me?”

Yet the headmaster kept shaking his head. I liked this. I liked the rhythm to it. It was different. It was freer somehow.

“Oh,” Rick then said, “And another thing. I am going to send Matthew Calamori here for your, uh, problem with—”

“Discerning truth from lies?” Mr. Wilderman cut in over him, nodding with a groan. But then he thought it over and glanced at Roddy. “We should make a show of it.”

Rick nodded, grinning. “You see what I am thinking?”

Mr. Wilderman nodded. Clearly they were of the same mind. He then looked to me and said, “Roddy you can go back to your room.”

I thumbed toward the detention room, opening my mouth to ask about the damage Spastic, Piranha, and I had made on the walls and floor—but even Rick waved for me to go and to not mention it.

So, I walked through the closed door to go out.

“It is so good to see him do that,” I heard Rick say from the other side.

“You think so?” Mr. Wilderman countered. “I actually like how normal he is.”

Rick huffed. I lingered near the doorway to listen. “Are you kidding? That kid is scared. He’s been hiding what he is all this time. I’d like to see him more comfortable in his own skin.”

“If more comfortable means drawing all over the walls and floor of the detention room—”

“Yes!” Rick said emphatically. “It will release stress for him—for all of them.”

“What about stress for us?”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Wilderman. He’s a kid. And he’s got barely anything of his own. Give him something to live for.”

I shivered. A feeling my gut swelled, aching. I was getting what he was truly thinking. The dude was the real deal.

“I am getting too old for this,” Mr. Wilderman said wearily. “Why can’t you get one of the Seven to be a headmaster of this school? They’d be perfect for the job.”

Rick chuckled. “Are you kidding? Train up Roddy, and he can be the headmaster.”

“Stop joking.”

Was he joking? Rick had a way of sharing funny sentiment while telling the truth.

“I’m not entirely joking.” And here was proof.

“But what about the Seven—”

“The Seven can’t. They have to be able to travel to deal with things at a moment’s notice. Besides most of them are still in college and none of them went into education. Why not call Selena up and see if she wants to teach here? She’s got a degree in all that stuff. And you know she can use her voice to keep people in line.”

“And kill them.”

Rick moaned.

I also noticed someone was coming down the hall my way, so I went immaterial and translucent. I slipped up into an unnoticeable spot up above the door, still listening.

“She wouldn’t.”

“But I thought she was still mad at Tom.”

“She’s not mad at Tom. They only broke up—her choice.” Rick then huffed. “I can’t call her. She’d think I was flirting, and I don’t want her to get any ideas.”

“Why not Chen then?”

“Chen’s in China, where he should be.”

“What?”

“Long story. Chen is working for me there. Training as a spirit warrior.”

“Ok. Fine. But what am I supposed to do about all this? Matthew is a full time detective. Your friends in the Seven aren’t available. And, regardless of your recommendation, I won’t hire a witch.”

“I didn’t say for her to work here,” Rick groaned. “She’s a hairstylist, for pity’s sake. But she is a good consultant on curses. I’m telling you, she might actually be able to help you lift curses off some of the kids. Her binding ribbons worked, right?”

“They worked alright. But that’s also why the detention room is covered in writing.”

Rick chuckled, reaching for the door. I could see the handle jiggle. “It’s your fault for not making the markers washable. You’re dealing with imps after all.”

“Imps…” Mr. Wilderman muttered. “Impulsives, you mean.”

I got out of the way as Rick stepped through the open door into the hallway. He was just under me. I watched the top of his head as Rick said, “Yeah, so what? They are genuine, decent kids. The nasty ones got locked up.”

“So you trust them?”

Rick chuckled again. “To be decent? Yes. Mr. Wilderman, you need to let those half-imps be themselves. Especially Roddy. I think that is why you have a gobfather-esque situation here right now.”

“This is not the same as with Bobby Cassidy. We’re dealing with a lot of ambiguity here. The trouble didn’t start until they arrived, and it’s been a war like none I have ever seen since. And to be frank, Roddy and Piranha have both actually done some pretty bad things.”

I stiffened.

“So have I,” Rick said. “And I don’t think Roddy knew what he was doing.”

“Are you so sure?”

I saw Rick nod. “Tom and Eve both vouch for him. Besides, I watched him steal from my car back in California. He’s not malicious. He just doesn’t exactly know right from wrong.”

I didn’t? I wondered on that. What wrong things was I doing?

“His horns are not his fault—and those that hold them against him are, well, racist.”

I heard Mr. Wilderman chuckle. I wasn’t sure if he was agreeing or not. But then he said, “I think the term is ‘speciesist’.

“No,” Rick sounded like he was grinning. “Race. Different species cannot interbreed. Basic biology.”

Groaning, Mr. Wilderman seemed to wave him off. Rick shut the door and walked away.

I stared after him. Rick went back to the stairs, clearly to leave the building. I was amazed at him, really. He was the same man with everyone. There was something marvelous about that.

Dropping to the floor, I then looked to Mr. Wilderman’s office again. The headmaster was thinking about leaving the school. I hadn’t known. I had thought people were threatening with getting him fired, not the other way around. And what was that about me not knowing the difference between right and wrong? I knew the difference. Hurting people was wrong. Lies were wrong.

But as I walked back to my room, I wondered about all the rest of it. I had no clue what a gobfather was. Or who Bobby Cassidy was. What I did understand was that Rick Deacon was invested in the healthy operation of this school and the safety of us ghoulies—and people most definitely had died around him. And that worried him. He didn’t want anyone else connected to him to die.

 

Guilt

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fifteen

 

 

I was left alone for the rest of the day. And though I had returned to my room initially, I eventually went to Spastic’s room to find him.

He wasn’t there.

However, I did catch his mafi roommate—Sean Moorley—stuffing bras and dirty magazines into Spastic’s bed. He screamed and nearly wet his pants when he saw me, dropping all things. They scattered like rubbish around him. Sticking his hands up, he yelped, “They made me!”

“They who?” I asked through my teeth, stepping further into the room.

Paling, Sean ducked down and whispered, “You know who. The girl was taught by her mother. She knows all sorts of ways to curse people. The resident W-I-T-C-H.”

He spelled it like it was dangerous to say.

“Witch?” I stared at him as if I had just caught him drinking from his shampoo bottle. But then I recalled the conversation between Rick and Mr. Wilderman. They had also discussed a witch, as if they were real. And perhaps they were. There were kids who were under curses at the school. I had just never asked by whom.

Sean has such a nasty panicked look in his eyes, his imps screeching for him to throw everything at me and claim I attacked him with the stuff. But I realized it was sheer terror at being a mafi with nothing to defend himself from a freaky dude like me.

I sat down on Spastic’s bed and said to the guy, “Look. I don’t know anything about witches—but this stupid stuff has got to stop. Do you want me to protect you from whoever is threatening you?”

Something changed on this guy’s face. The kid—who was usually a real creep to me