The Academy (Moving In Series Book 6)
Read The Academy (Moving In Series Book 6) Online
Authors: Ron Ripley
The Academy
Written by Ron Ripley
Edited by Emma Salam and Lance Piao
Copyright © 2016 by ScareStreet.com
All rights reserved.
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Keeping it spooky,
Ron Ripley
Table of Contents
Chapter 5: Bringing Back the Portable
Chapter 6: The Day is Nearly Done
Chapter 7: Introducing Herman Emerson Hawthorne
Chapter 16: In the Admin Building
Chapter 18: On the Way to the Library
Chapter 19: Alone with His Thoughts
Chapter 21: The Academy’s Graduates
Chapter 22: Eddie Fina Loses Some Time
Chapter 24: Patrolling the Grounds
Chapter 29: Eddie Goes Back to School
Chapter 30: The Northfield Memorial Park
Chapter 31: Charlie Roy and
The Maltese Falcon
, 1989
Chapter 32: A Strange Situation
Chapter 33: A Curious Darkness
Chapter 34: The Case Gets Stranger
Chapter 37: Caught and Released, August, 1980
Chapter 38: Searching for the Fob
Chapter 39: On the Academy’s Grounds
Chapter 40: In the Emergency Room
Chapter 41: Researching History
Chapter 43: Meeting at Mitchell’s
Chapter 48: Back at the Library
Chapter 49: Going into the Office
Chapter 53: Back at the Academy
Bonus Scene Chapter 1: His Father’s Book, September, 1922
Bonus Scene Chapter 2: Instructions from Father
Bonus Scene Chapter 3: Gathering the First
Bonus Scene Chapter 4: How to Hold the Dead
Bonus Scene Chapter 5: In the Club
Bonus Scene Chapter 6: In Vincent’s Room
Chapter 1: At the Academy
Students enjoyed jokes. When it came to the senior prank, the more effort it took, the better it stayed in the oral history of the school.
At Northfield Free Academy, there was a long and proud tradition of seniors who attempted to do the seemingly impossible. In 1972, the senior class had managed to secretly rewire the school's public address system. The result had been one hundred and sixty continuous hours of Perry Como before a janitor had found the setup. The class of 1980 had bleached a fair caricature of President Jimmy Carter into the school’s front lawn. This hadn’t made itself known until the following Spring when the grass sprouted anew.
The class of 2016 had outdone them all, in terms of both logistical mastery and sheer destruction; the Academy, which was spread out over seven buildings on a large, forty-acre campus, had a total of one hundred and three toilets. Somehow, the senior class managed to get into every bathroom after hours, and simultaneously drop a cherry-bomb into each porcelain receptacle.
The damage was catastrophic.
Principal Mitchell Roy wasn’t impressed with what the seniors had accomplished. What amazed him the most was that not a single one of them had posted to social media about it. No Tweets and no Facebook or Instagram posts either. Not a single mention in the electronic world.
Nothing.
They had even hacked the closed circuit security system, although this hadn’t been too shocking. Some of the kids were exceptionally bright.
Destructive, but bright.
“Mitchell?”
Mitchell turned and looked at Larry Case, head of maintenance.
“I’m sorry, Larry,” Mitchell said, shaking his head. The two men stood in Mitchell’s office. Their shoes were soaked, as were the cuffs of their pants. They had toured some of the bathrooms in Slater Hall to see how bad the damage was. “I’m at a loss for words.”
“Well,” Larry said, sighing, “there’s more.”
Mitchell looked at him and waited.
“Over in Deer Stag House, there’s some significant water damage,” Larry said. “And it looks like we’re going to have to excavate under the bathroom to repair some of the pipes.”
Mitchell closed his eyes and shook his head. He took a deep breath before he looked at Larry again. Deer Stag was the oldest house on campus, and it was also on the historic register. Even the smallest of repairs required Mitchell to fill out reams of paperwork; an excavation would be a bureaucratic hell.
“Alright,” Mitchell said after a moment, “I’ll get started on the requests. How long are we going to be shut down?”
“We’ll have to outsource this one, Mitchell,” Larry said. “I’ve got the water shut down through the campus, but we’re going to need to bring in either a big plumbing outfit or a whole lot of contractors. If we can get them in, and get a clean-up crew to assist my guys, we can probably be up and running by Wednesday morning.”
Mitchell nodded. Monday was already a loss. He had canceled classes when Larry had called him at five in the morning. Tuesday was the kicker, though. Working parents would be upset about the kids being out of school. Mitchell could only imagine the emails and phone calls he would get, parents complaining about how they couldn’t stay at home and miss work.
The many joys of leadership
, he thought, chuckling.
“What’s funny?” Larry asked, looking at him.
“Just thinking of the parents,” Mitchell replied.
Larry rolled his eyes. “Better you than me, Mitchell. Anyway, I’ve got Bruce over at Deer Stag checking out the damage in the cellar. Soon as he gives me a report, I’ll pass it on to you.”
“Thanks, Larry,” Mitchell said. He looked down at his wet pants and shoes and shook his head.
“Anything I can get you, Mitchell?” Larry asked.
“If you go out,” Mitchell said, “a cup of coffee would be good. I’ve got to answer calls.”
Larry nodded and left the office.
Mitchell went to his desk, sat down and took a legal pad out of a drawer. He picked up a pen, looked at the blank paper and thought,
At least it can’t get any worse.
Chapter 2: In Deer Stag House
Bruce Marx sat on the edge of an old desk, lit a cigarette and smoked it in the cellar of Deer Stag House. He didn’t worry about the smoke detector going off. The water from the burst toilets had soaked everything, which meant the first order of business had been to shut down the power to the house. And he had ripped the backup battery out of the detector when he inspected the damage.
Bruce couldn’t care less about being caught. With the amount of damage caused, a little bit of secondhand Marlboro smoke was the last thing anyone would worry about.
He had a battery-powered light on a stand, shining at the pools of water on the floor. The old pipes had burst from the concussion of the cherry bombs and had soaked the old stone foundation directly beneath the bathroom.
Bruce wasn’t looking forward to the clean-up, and the stone wall hadn’t stood up well against the water. The original mortar had broken apart, and there were two and three-inch gaps between some of the stones.
Larry better get a mason to take care of the wall,
Bruce thought.
Then again, they’ll probably have to bring in one of those artsy-types from Mystic since this is a ‘historic’ building.
Bruce shook his head and exhaled a long stream of smoke. He watched it curl through the bright, fluorescent light and slip between the stones.
Bruce blinked. He stood up, took a couple of steps closer, took a long drag off the cigarette, and blew the smoke directly at the wall.