Books of the Dead (11 page)

A middle-aged woman was sitting behind the secretary desk. She had glasses on and was writing something down in a hurry. Nora didn’t say anything and waited for Mr. Kippler to say something, but he didn’t and she knew that he was waiting for the secretary to finish her work. The secretary looked up and Mr. Kippler greeted her with a warm smile. “Alexis,” he said, and the secretary returned the greeting with an equally warm and kind smile, but soon Nora found that the gaze was on her.

“Hello, I am Dora.”

“Alexis, this is Dora,” and Mr. Kippler informed the secretary what he knew about Nora and her purpose of coming to the school.

The secretary waited for him to finish and asked Nora some more details regarding her purpose of visiting the town and the school. Nora was cross-examined in a way, but she answered each question with a lie, but deep inside, she knew that those lies are only to aid her purpose.

They were asked to wait some more by the principal of the school, who was known by the name of Mrs. Shindel. Nora waited patiently. Sitting on one of the benches in the corridor reminded her of her own school. She saw Mr. Kippler was chatting away with the secretary and thought that they must be familiar with each other. Nora looked around and there were cute drawings hung around by children and she figured that this school was a primary school. There were faint noises coming from children reciting tables or poems, the monotonous tone rekindled her memories, and for a moment, she forgot the purpose of her visit. Nora smiled at the thought that once she was also a part of this.

Nora tilted her head and saw two children walk past the corridor. The children giggled and gave a sideways glance at Nora before going on their way. She could hear the teachers reading out from passages of lessons, and the naughty and mischievous one getting scolded. Everything Nora saw filled her with a sense of nostalgia, memories sparked inside her when she saw two boys of about the same height, but one with blue clear eyes and the other with a mop of dark brown hair, stepped out of the classroom. Ah, punishment, she thought, and at that moment, the idea of punishment didn’t repulse her all that much.

The boys seemed to be enjoying getting punished as they pushed each other and laughed. Nora remembered herself being in a similar situation once. The boys were so careless and carefree without a worry in the world. Nora sighed and at that moment her name was called. She looked at the giggling boys one last time and walked towards the secretary’s desk. She was made to sign in a diary and was given the permission to go in the principal’s office.

“Mr. Kippler, you will be coming in too, right?” she asked.

“Ah, of course, I will.” Mr. Kippler excused himself and said something to the secretary before walking in towards the principal’s office with Nora.

Nora pushed the wooden door and walked in. There was a nameplate sitting on the large wooden desk that read, “Mrs. Shindel.”

Nora noticed that Mrs. Shindel was a tall woman with auburn hair falling from the side of her face. She was unusually pale, but had a pinkish glow in her cheeks. Her attire was formal and sophisticated; the striped skirt and the beige shirt suited her frame. She didn’t look more than thirty-five years of age and Nora wondered if she would be able to help her with what she needed to know.

Mrs. Shindel saw Nora looking at her blankly, and therefore, formally introduced herself as the new principal of the primary school. “I was appointed as the principal about eight months ago.” She noticed Mr. Kippler standing behind Nora and apologized for not noticing him.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Shindel, you don’t need to be formal with me.” He gave Mrs. Shindel a toothy smile and Nora was amused at the familiarity of Mr. Kippler with almost everyone in the town.

Mr. Kippler seemed to have sensed the thought in Nora’s mind and said “I saw Mrs. Shindel grow up. She was a kid when she moved in this part of the town; she was just Dorothy then. I am so proud to see her as the principal of this school now,” he said, but instantly added, “Mrs. Shindel, I hope you didn’t mind me saying that, do you?”

“Of course, I don’t mind, Mr. Kippler; our town can do with a little news. Why don’t you sit down?” She motioned towards a chair in front of her table. Nora adjusted herself comfortably in the chair and Mr. Kippler settled himself down beside her as well. A few minutes passed as Nora was busy gazing at the old pictures, trophies and mementos that decorated the room. The sun rays coming through the open window fell on the golden, silver and bronze medals and trophies that were placed in a glass cupboard on one side; it made them glow in their brightest shade.

Mrs. Shindel gave Nora enough time to look through everything. Nora acted very curious and Mrs. Shindel seemed to be enjoying the attention that the office was getting. “I redecorated the office,” she said with pride.

“It is very impressive and everything is placed in perfect order,” Nora praised, and then directly went to the subject that she was there for, but before that, Mrs. Shindel asked her a question.

“Why are you so curious about our town?”

Nora was taken aback by the word “curious,” so she repeated the question herself, “Why am I curious? I am only doing my job.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. What I meant was what brings you here? There is hardly any news in this town and everybody is busy living their lives. We are just surprised,” Mrs. Shindel said.

“We?’’ Nora asked.

“Yes, I meant ‘we.’ I am, Mr. Kippler is and so was Alexis, she is our secretary,” Mrs. Shindel said.

Nora was a fine story teller; she was popular among her friends due to her story-telling skills. She took basic information and twisted it, molded it and presented it in a new form. Such was her skills that people were often mistaken regarding what was real and what was fake. Nora prided herself for possessing that skill. She said the most amazing stories and her friends, family, and her young brothers and sisters all were engrossed in her tales. So for the umpteenth time, she was lying that day; she blessed her skills that day.

“Every place has a story to tell and it hardly matters if it a posh city or a secluded village or a placid town. I have been reporting on many places for a long time and I have stories that have moved me, stories that are common, unusual, inspired me and stories that surprised me, I think a small town is unique in its own way, and that what got me hooked to write a story.” Nora noticed Mrs. Shindel listening to her very attentively and knew that her story was believed. However, what she said was not completely untrue. From the moment she set foot in this low-key town, she felt that she was in a different time. The old motel sure irked her at first, but the more she saw the place, the more it enchanted her. She was almost half-way across town asking people questions, and found there was something about the people, the shops and the scenery that attracted her. Nora didn’t want to admit it to herself at first, but when those words came out of her mouth, she was not lying.

This town provided her with a sense of calmness, of which she was deprived of in the city. The manufactured streets, the noise, the sky scrapers and the countless number of people in the city filled her with a feeling of confinement from which she had wanted to break free from for a long time, and now standing in an unfamiliar place with a foreign smell alerted her senses and she gave her a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time that she was free again. Free from all the responsibilities, the duties and expectations she had to fulfill.

Mrs. Shindel was moved by what Nora said. There was a glimmer in her eyes that indicated that she was happy with Nora’s answer. “How can I help you?” Mrs. Shindel asked.

After a few questions that Nora asked Mrs. Shindel, she directly asked if she knew about students who have made it big in the city. “I am new here, but we do keep records and old photographs in our library, so if you care to have a look at them, then we might be able to help you, but are you looking for anyone in particular?” Mrs. Shindel asked.

“In fact she is,” Mr. Kippler said before Nora could say anything. “Show Mrs. Shindel those pictures that you have with you.”

Nora didn’t want to show those pictures yet, but had to as Mr. Kippler insisted. So Nora took out those year book images and showed them to Mrs. Shindel, but like she guessed, the principal was unable to recognize them.

“I am sorry, but who are they?” she asked. Nora looked at Mr. Kippler with a hopelessness in her eyes.

“They are students of this school” Mr. Kippler put in, but that part was known to Nora and she wanted to know more.

“But why them in particular?” Mrs. Shindel asked.

“Not just them,” Nora heard herself say. “I wanted to interview the initial residents of this area, and beside Mr. Kippler, they are only ones that I know of. The others I met are mostly new.” In spite of her story-telling skills, Nora doubted if this tale was convincing enough. Mrs. Shindel’s expression gave the impression to Nora that her story was believable. She let out a sigh of relief when Mrs. Shindel got up from her chair and allowed her to visit the school library to see if she finds any detail from the old school yearbooks. Meanwhile, Mrs. Shindel would check to see if she can get her hands on the school photographs of past years.

Nora thanked Mrs. Shindel, and while going out of the room her eyes rested on a photograph on the newly painted blue walls of a man named Mr. Kippler. It was uncanny how he resembled Mr. Kippler sitting on the couch. For a brief moment, Nora’s eyes were transfixed on the photograph, and she tried to find a reason for it.

Mr. Kippler answered the riddle himself, “That is my uncle. He was the principal of this school for more than twenty-five years, before he passed away at the age of fifty-six. He made a fine teacher, I would say, and how I miss him.” Mr. Kippler lamented for a moment, then he directed his gaze to a couple of other photographs on the wall. They were former principals of this school. Nora listened about them with great concentration. The last photograph that was shown to her was that of Mr. Cooper. He was the principal right after Mr. Kippler.

“He never got to take our class, but last I heard he was strict and very particular about discipline. He is old and extremely ailing these days, barely moves and mostly keeps to himself. Mr. Cooper stays with his nurse and pet parrot, Tony. Sad for an active and energetic man like him. I feel bad at times.”

Mr. Kippler ended what he was saying and Nora realized if there was someone who could provide information on the Keaton siblings, it would be him. However, she did not inform them of what she planned to do to anyone.

Nora saw one of the security guards enter the room, and Mrs. Shindel instructed him to direct her towards the school library. “You will find Miss Lily. She is the librarian in the front desk. Ask her anything and she will be able to help you with any book you want, or the year books to be more precise.”

“Yes, thank you” Nora expressed her gratitude and went along with the security towards the library. The library to her surprise was bigger and more organized than what she had expected. Miss Lily was waiting at the front desk and immediately greeted Nora upon entering the library.

“Hello, Miss Dora, Mrs. Shindel just informed me that you will be visiting our library, so what can I help you with?” the young librarian asked.

Miss Lily was a confident woman aged in her late twenties; she was polished and finely dressed. Her desk was neat and there were piles of books, files and other essentials stocked on one side. What attracted Nora’s attention was an engraved plate in a wooden piece on which it was marked, “How does it end?” Nora picked the piece up and tried to decode the meaning behind it, but quite didn’t make any sense.

Nora looked at it, then looked questionably at the librarian. “I have seen people favor quotes, but never saw anyone keep this. What is that you want to see the end of?”

“A lot of things, and some things in particular” Miss Lily didn’t elaborate on it.

Nora didn’t ask anything more about it, but how she wanted to see the end of things herself. She smiled at Miss Lily and asked her to direct her towards the section where the year books and school record books were kept.

“Section three, fourth row,” Miss Lily said.

“What about the school news? Are there any compilation of them?” Nora asked.

“Only once in a while does our school generate great news when our students win at Spelling B, the local art competition or maybe their acts of bravery gets noticed. You will find everything in that section,” she said.

“Are there any news about former students who made it big around their time or are known around here even after they left?” Nora asked.

“How former are you talking about?’ Miss Lily asked.

“I don’t know ... about thirty to thirty-five years back,” Nora said.

“I am not too sure about whom you are talking about, but you will find all the information you are looking for in that section. Ask for any help and I will assist you,” Miss Lily was kind enough to mention.

“Thank you so much, Miss Lily. It is so kind of you.” Nora went ahead to look for the year books and the news about this school.

The year books were right on the third row. They were kept in neat and proper order and according to the year. Nora was impressed by the organization of it all.

Nora started looking from the top row and went down to the last. She took out one or two of the books and flipped through its pages. Nora smiled at the photographs of smiling toothy children. Some smiled while others made faces, and some of their eyes were closed while others looked amused, but there was one thing in common … all of them looked cheerful and content. Nora remembered her school days when the photographs were taken and how she dressed neatly for that that day.

Then she took out the one year book which she guessed would have the pictures of the Keaton siblings or Mr. Summers and his sister, and there they were just like the rusted old photograph she had found inside the book of the two young siblings. The same face and eyes, and every detail in the yearbook photo screamed that it was indeed Mr. Summers and his sister.