Nightmare Academy (20 page)

Then Marcy came galloping by, screaming and giggling along with some other girls, including Charlene and Melinda. There was no question they were making a beeline for the trouble, and that instantly changed Elisha's plans. She did a 180 and headed back. “Marcy! Marcy, don't!”

The girls didn't even turn around.

Dorm A had become a battleground just like dorm B, only a few octaves higher. The hallway was a blizzard of clothing, pillows, combs, makeup,
everything
flying everywhere, including the frequent flash and tinkle of pilfered KMs. There were slap-clashes, tugs-of-war, shrieks, cursings, screams, and threats; girls were scratching, biting, kicking, pulling hair. Elisha went into the melee only deep enough to grab a fistful of Marcy's blouse and yank her out the door. “How
dare
you! Are you out of your mind?”

Marcy was indignant over the interruption. “What's your problem?”

“What's my problem? Don't you remember last night, how scary that was, how scared we were? Don't you remember saying 'Ooo, what if they'd come in here?'”

Marcy's eyes seemed totally blank. “So?”

Elisha wanted to slap her. “So kids got
hurt
last night! And they're getting hurt tonight! Stealing things and wrecking things, and fighting, it's wrong!”

“No, it isn't. We're just getting back at them.”

Just then, Melinda came running out the door with a brand-new Walkman in her hand. “Hey, Cher, you're missing out!”

Again, Elisha was incredulous. “Melinda! What are you doing?

You can't take that!”

“Sure I can. I want it.”

Elisha was trying to believe that a brain cell, just one tiny brain cell, might still be working behind those dead-as-a-dolly baby blue eyes. “Melinda, aren't you the one who was all upset because somebody stole your Walkman? Don't you remember how it felt to be ripped off?”

“I feel good now,” Melinda answered.

“We're just having fun,” said Marcy. “It isn't wrong if we're having fun.”

“It isn't wrong,” Melinda said flatly. “Come on, Cher.”

“Cher?” Elisha questioned.

“I got tired of Marcy,” said Elisha's roommate as Melinda pulled her back inside.

“Had enough?”

Elijah wanted to show mercy to the big guy with pimples and the missing tooth, but from a safe distance. Standing several feet away, he stretched out his hand as a token of friendship.

The big guy was still on the floor, half doubled over from having his wind knocked out. He and his buddies were able to throw a few good punches before—

He looked around. Where were his buddies?

“They're gone,” said Elijah. “They're okay—at least, they were walking.”

The big guy's back pain and abdominal discomfort gradually gave way to embarrassment and wonder. He remembered grabbing Elijah with every intention of putting his head through the plaster, but whatever happened between that moment and the moment his own body slammed into the floor was a stomach-turning blur.

“What's your name?” Elijah asked.

“Rory.”

“I'm calling myself Jerry This here is Warren.”

Elijah was still offering his hand. Rory took it, and Elijah helped him to his feet.

“You're good,” Rory said, rubbing his bruised shoulder.

“You're pretty good yourself,” said Elijah.

The big raid was over. Brett and his whole gang had done enough damage and received plenty, and now they were gone. Alex and the men of dorm B were picking themselves up, gathering up their scattered belongings, and counting what items weren't there anymore. Some of them were cheering, apparently winners in the brawl, but overall, the mood was sour.

Elijah spoke as a friend to Rory as he eyed his still-rowdy still-angry dorm mates. “You'd better get out of here.”

Rory hurried out the far door.

As soon as the door closed behind the last invader, Warren let out a whoop. “Wooo! Did we whip their butts or what?”

Elijah wasn't cheering. “Warren, take a look around. We don't want to make this a habit.”

The next day, Elijah skipped lunch, choosing to spend some time sitting alone on the grass behind the library, scribbling away on a class assignment. Not far from him, a lonely fence post cast a short, noonday shadow on a dry, bare patch of ground. Every few minutes, with an eye on his watch, he took a small twig and poked it in the ground, marking the very tip of the post's shadow. After a half-hour, a single file of twigs traced a gradual arc across the ground as the shadow moved sideways and also grew shorter. Elijah started checking the time every minute, then every thirty seconds as he watched the shadow As the shadow passed through its shortest length—high noon—he checked the time repeatedly and wrote it down. “7:42 and 15 seconds . . . 7:42 and 30 seconds . . .” He kept marking the time until the shadow began to lengthen again, then went back to the twig that marked the shortest shadow and from that, he determined the time the shadow had passed that point. “7:43 and 12 seconds, Greenwich Mean Time. All right!”

Then, back to the unreal world. At 1:30—or thereabouts—Mr. Easley kept wearing that smile as he addressed a group of scowling, bruised, scratched, and torn students. The dress code was still casual, but today some of the kids weren't wearing a complete uniform because they no longer had one. There were bumps on some of the heads, scratches and bruises on some of the faces, a puffy eye here, a split lip there. Apart from a small number of neutrals who found it best to sit somewhere in the middle, the whole group was clearly divided: the A and B dorms on Easley's left and the C and D dorms on his right—and sitting prominently on each side, eyeing each other like two roosters in the same chicken yard, were Alex and Brett.

Oh, you could feel the tension.

“We're actually getting better and better,” said Easley. “Did you know that? As we keep evolving from generation to generation, our capacity for good, our ability to solve our own problems, just keeps improving, and we need to be a part of that. We need to pitch in for peace.”

No one applauded, but Elijah did raise a hand. “Why? What's wrong with war?”

Alex suddenly came to life. “Yeah. What's wrong with war? I'd like to have a little war right now!” He shot a dirty look at Brett.

“Anytime you're ready,” said Brett, returning fire.

The two sides exploded in shots and countershots. “And I want my stuff back, right now!” “It's mine now!” “Just wait 'til tonight!” “You don't scare me!”

It took Easley several minutes and overworking that smile to get things quiet again. “Listen. War is exactly what we're trying to avoid, and Jerry, I don't appreciate your even bringing up the subject.”

“I didn't bring it up. It's here, right in our faces, and I think you should deal with it.”

“We all have our own beliefs—”

By this time, Elijah was running out of patience and getting visibly, red-facedly angry. “I want you to tell us that fighting and stealing are wrong. Can you do that?”

Easley looked across the group. “What does the group think?”

“Bring it on,” said Alex, hitting his palm with his fist.

“Oh, yeah,” said Brett.

More hollering, more threats, more dirty looks. If there hadn't been at least a few kids wanting peace, and if Easley hadn't taken a position between them, the whole discussion time might have ended in a riot right there. “Easy, now! Take it easy!” he said.

“Looks like the majority thinks fighting and stealing are okay” said Elijah.

“Except for one thing,” said Easley, addressing all of them. “Respect.”

Alex thought that was funny.
"Respect?"

Both sides moaned with disgust and mockery as they eyed each other.

“Respect,” Easley repeated. “Listen, our world is full of different cultures, different views of right and wrong, and we're seeing an example of that right here. But we don't have to believe the same things, we don't have to agree with anyone else's idea of right and wrong as long as we simply respect each other. If respect is there, then we have enough good within ourselves to rise above our differences.”

Elisha piped up, “Mr. Easley, in some cultures, they love their neighbor. In some cultures, they
eat
their neighbor. Which do you respect?”

“I respect them both.”

“Both/and,” Elijah muttered in disgust.

“You can't have it both ways,” Elisha said, actually scolding him. “If you respect my neighbor's right to invade my room and take my things, then you sure don't respect my right to peace and safety!”

“Either/or,” said Elijah.

Easley came back, “Every person has a right—”

“No!” said Elisha. “No one has the right to do something that's wrong!”

Easley leaned toward her. “And I suppose
you're
going to tell us what's right and wrong?”

Some of the group murmured, “Yeah, who do you think you are?” “Yeah, who gave you the right?”

“I don't decide what's right and what's wrong,” Elisha answered. “God decides.”

The moans and hoots from the group were so loud they echoed back from the buildings across the field.

Elisha pressed on, completing her thought for the whole group. “Remember the Ten Commandments? Well, there are two more we didn't get to recite in Booker's class: Don't lie, and don't want something that belongs to someone else. I think those two commandments right there would solve a lot of the problems around here.”

Now Easley leaned back, smiling, obviously glad Elisha had said such a thing. “Ah. God. Religion. Holier-than-thou. Thou shalt not. Is that how it works? Just impose your religion on everyone so they can't think for themselves?”

“It isn't like that. God gave us—”

“Set yourself up as the one who makes all the rules, and tell everybody they have to see things your way because, after all, you have God in your camp. Now you have all the rights: the right to criticize and persecute and condemn, and why not lead a few more Crusades and Inquisitions while you're at it?”

Easley leaned toward her.
“And 1 suppose you're going to tell
us what's right and wrong?”