The Unfortunate Story of Roddy Mayhem by Julie Steimle (free e reader .TXT) 📖

seat, eager to watch it with me.

Rick smiled at me, his eyes twinkling. “I can get it. I think it might be among our super hero movie files.”

“I don’t want to watch Hellboy,” Piranha snapped, shooting me a dirty look.

But Rick, with an accommodating smile, said, “I can set you two up with a different movie. Each seat has its own video player. What do you want to watch?”

“Thor: Ragnarok!” Tom raised his hand, waving it.

Wispy lifted a finger. “Do you have the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants?”

Rick paused, thinking. “I think my mom had that on her playlist. I’ll go see.”

“How about Lord of the Rings?” James asked.

“The trilogy?” Rick smirked at him.

“Sure.” James grinned. “We’ve got time.”

“Same,” Daniel said.

Rick looked to Spastic.

He grinned wider and adjusted his bow tie. “Do you have Dr. Who episodes?”

Eying his tie, Rick smirked as he said, “Can I guess which doctor you are interested in?”

Spastic grinned wider, gleefully.

Admittedly, Rick was cool.

 

We all settled down with our movies and mostly watched them as our plane flew over the US. I peeked on occasion out the window at the landscape below, fields and fields of patchwork farmland stretching as far as the eye could see. Trees clustered around roads and rivers. Towns bunched together in places. But most of the land below was an open spread of grain and wilderness. I had always imagined the world full of people and cities from end to end. This new green view blew my mind.

We were served lunch in flight—delicious lemon chicken with fresh fruit and the most delicious rolls I have ever tasted. I wondered if the school would have food this great. Peeking back to that guy, Rick, I would not be surprised if he had insisted on it. The guy could not eat garlic or honey, but man he did eat well.

Piranha popped next to me during our video watching, grabbing the back of my neck and pinching it with her fingernails. She hissed in my ear, “Where were you yesterday? Did you lead them to us?”

“Ow!” I ducked down, trying to keep my voice low. “Come on! I didn’t know they were watching me. That demon lady caught me as I was running away, ok? That woman could rip my heart out with her pinky.”

I heard her huff angrily, but she let go. She believed me.

“Eve and Tom took me shopping,” I said. “That’s how I got the new clothes.”

“Eve and Tom?” Piranha stared at me. “Who is Eve?”

“The demon vimp,” I moaned, staring at the cabin ceiling. “They kinda temporarily adopted me—I think on the wolf-guy’s orders.”

“Wolf guy?” Piranha stared more.

I pointed Rick out, who was sleeping now. “Him. He’s a werewolf.”

“No way.” Piranha dropped her grip entirely and stared at him.

I nodded. “Yep. They’re all kinda weird. I mean, you’ve heard their imps.”

She nodded. “The pyromaniac and the soldier man. Yeah.”

Soldier man? I guess she saw James that way.

“How did you find out that guy was a werewolf?” she whispered, now deathly curious.

“He told me,” I said. “Though… he really does seem like a wolf too, you know.”

She peered at me, frowning. She shook her head. “I never would have guessed it.”

I was surprised. It was plainly obvious to me.

She eventually went back to her seat. I finished watching the first Hellboy movie and I started the second one. When that one finished, we were close to the airport. I could tell from Wispy’s imps that she was ready to jump the plane. Spastic was excited for the landing, though, and Piranha was waiting to see how it all played out. Tom Brown hopped over to the gals’ seats and put an arm around the pair of them, urging them to get settled for the landing. I noticed he kept a slightly tighter hold on Wispy—no jumping out when were close to the ground… but I could have sworn he was enjoying having his arm around Piranha.

She got annoyed.

“Try not to leave the group,” Rick said to them as the plane touched down. “This is New York. Not LA.”

And looking out at the rain as the airplane heavily bumped to the earth and rolled with a roller coaster whiplash kind of stop as it slowed down and taxied to the hangar (though not as dramatic), I knew that was true. The air was muggier. I could already feel it. I had left home.

Gulinger High

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seven

 

 

None of us got away at the airport. And an awaiting van took us to the famous Gulinger Private Academy—which on the outside looked like nothing more than an ordinary brownstone apartment complex. There wasn’t even a sign on the door. In fact, there was no sign there was a school inside. The bustle outside on the street indicated no awareness that there was a school there at all.

We were admitted inside by a keypad code which Rick punched in. The door popped open with a tall owlish kind of man peering down on us. He recognized Rick and Tom immediately, smiling at Rick and rolling his eyes at Tom.

“I see you have a full load,” he said, taking the rest of us in. 

Rick nodded, smiling. As he walked in, he looked around as if he were unfamiliar with the place. His eyes going to the owl man, he asked, “Which floor is Mr. Wilderman’s office?”

“Third,” the owl-man replied, gesturing to the stairs.

I looked around. The floor we were on appeared to be nothing more than apartments. But Rick led the way up the stairs, two flights where there was a door to our right with another key pad.

“More security in this place,” Tom murmured, looking about. “Do you think they had a lot of trouble when at the last one?”

 “What do you mean, this place?” Piranha asked, her voice retaining her bite. “Didn’t you go to this school?”

Tom chuckled, winking at her. “The school moves.”

“We’ve got several campuses in New York,” Rick explained to her, opening the door for us. It led into a small foyer of what looked like an ordinary apartment. “We relocate whenever trouble finds us—to protect the students.”

“Trouble like what?” Piranha asked. I could tell she was nervous.

“Mafia,” Rick said matter-of-factly. “SRA. Nasty demons. You name it. We’ve relocated about three times when I was here, and I went to Gulinger for only three years.”

They stared at him.

“And why did the school relocate when you were here?” Dan asked, clearly not knowing this detail.

Rick counted on his fingers. “First time was the Mafia. They had tracked one of their targets to our school. The second time was with that stupid headmaster—what’s her face—”

“Ms. Stratford,” Tom said grimly. “She hated werewolves and had called that hunter.”

James and Dan both drew in breaths. Their imps urged them to cuss though they didn’t.

“And the last time was because Megan Dalane showed up and we didn’t want the coven coming to the school,” Rick said.

Tom nodded. “Three in quick succession. And the school relocated the same time you moved back to Massachusetts because those hunters for that full moon convention had found it, and we didn’t want the SRA coming for any of the other ghoulies.”

Rick nodded. He gestured for us all to get in and close the front door.

I felt claustrophobic in that tight space. But then Rick pushed on the opposite door (which clearly would not open until the front door was shut) and we came into light.

All of us stepped out onto linoleum tile and stared at a bona fide school hallway. It was brilliant. A top secret high school.

But then I saw a kid about nine years old jog by, and I realized it was not just a high school, but a school for all ages nearly.

Piranha stared about, breathless and overwhelmed.

And I could not blame her. The imp noise from all those impulsive kids was enormous. Like cymbals and pounding drums at a rock concert.

Tom nodded to me, mentally reminding me what he had told me atop the bus the night before. It was going to be noisy to distraction.

Wispy put her hands on her head, cringing.

“I know,” Tom said, turning around to face us. “It will take some getting used to.”

Spastic was hopping about though, excited. I don’t think he had ever seen so many imps. He was in heaven.

All of us followed the signs, walking in toward the headmaster’s office. We noticed a huge set of stairs which led up and down with kids in uniform tramping on them. Their eyes turned to us, and then most especially Tom. Several of them laughed, waving at him. Others went pale and rushed away. But the eyes on the rest of us were raking and critical. They were sizing us up carefully.

Tom took us to the office and actually, respectfully, knocked on the door.

A chubby man opened it. His watery eyes widened on Tom, but then turned more gently onto Rick. He stepped aside, allowing us into his office.

“Mr. Deacon, I got your message. Are these four…?” the man’s eyes took us in and he drew in a breath. He knew what we were immediately, and he seemed to go white at the prospect at having four halfs in the school. His eyes turned to Tom, adding his future with us up. 

Rick stepped in, apology all over his face. “Sorry to burden you, Mr. Wilderman, but you are our best shot at helping these kids.”

The weirdly plump (yet not actually fat) man’s imps were screaming for him to quit right there.

“You can handle it,” Tom said to the rotund man, patting him on his rounded shoulder. The man reminded me a bit of the moon for some reason. He gave off that vibe.

But Mr. Wilderman shot Tom a hard look. “Ok, fine. But what if West End Prep wants them? I think they also got the word you were heading to New York. You did say the FBI had handled them in LA.”

Rick grimly nodded.

Tom stiffened, shooting us a look which I did not quite understand. He had said something about West End Prep earlier, but I had forgotten what it was. “That will be their choice.”

There was so much behind his thoughts on that remark though I could not figure out what it was. I was no mind reader after all. What was West End Prep again? Was it another, better school? Or just a competitor?

The other two who had come with us, Dan and James, looked around at the school property with deep curiosity. Mr. Wilderman, upon seeing them, regarded them with a critical eye. They were not alumni after all. Just friends of Rick’s who were in the know about the establishment. In fact, Mr. Wilderman whispered to Rick about them, and Rick just waved it off. I overheard him say, “They’re exactly like Mr. Carlton Jones. They are taking over his job.”

“Oh…” Mr. Wilderman gazed at the pyromaniac and James again, subdued.

He then called his secretary in.

Piranha, Wispy, Spastic and I were earch handed a packet of papers and pens and quickly led to a table where we could all sit and fill all that stuff out.

Tom said to the group of us as we scribbled up what we could on the paperwork, “Here’s your fresh start. Take advantage of it. You can