The Secrets of Hawthorne House

Chapter 9 Colin's Revenge

"What's up, Colin?" Clayton asked, as he and Dylan followed Colin through the cafeteria after the three had picked up their lunches. "Why aren't we sitting at our usual table?"

"Yeah, Colin," Dylan added. "Why do we have to eat all the way over here?"

Ignoring their questions, Colin continued until he'd reached his goal, an empty table in the corner farthest from the cafeteria monitor. "This'll do," he said to himself, placing his tray on the table. He took a seat with his back to the wall that was covered by a huge mural of a bald eagle, the school's mascot. While the others sat down opposite him, Colin carefully scanned the large room that was packed with students on their lunch break. "We have unfinished business," he finally answered, pointing briefly across the room to where two figures dressed identically in black sat by themselves at a table near the door that led out to the rain-drenched football fields.

"What do you mean?" Clayton asked, turning around to look where Colin had pointed.

"Yeah, I don't see anything," Dylan said.

"Look again," Colin commanded his cronies. "Surely, you can see Witch-Boy sitting there with his sorcerer's apprentice."

"Oh, I see 'em," Clayton said. "But what can we do if Hawthorne's going to hex us as soon as we try anything? Jeez, Colin, I'd like to get even with him as much as you." He looked down at his right hand, where his index finger was still in a splint. "But I don't need any more magic."

"Nor do I," Colin replied grimly, remembering the smell of the seagull poop and the rotten eggs on Halloween. Suddenly, he wasn't so hungry and angrily shoved his tray to the side. He leaned over the table and whispered, "So here's what we're going to do...."

English class was nearly over. Having finished and handed in their assignments, Gerallt and Matt were sitting quietly, discussing their plans for the evening while waiting for the bell to ring.

"So, what do you think?" Matt whispered when he saw that the teacher was busy at his desk answering another student's question. "Do you think it's too soon for me to come over again? If it is, you can always come over to my place."

Gerallt was about to answer when someone walked up from behind, shoved himself between them, and suddenly fell with a loud thud on the floor. Dylan was sprawled at their feet, holding his leg and rocking back and forth as if his shinbone were sticking out of his pants.

"Ow! My knee," Dylan screamed at the top of his lungs. "Gerallt, I told you I don't have any more money!"

"What the...." Gerallt said, jumping up out of his chair to stare down at Dylan.

"Don't hurt me! I'll give you the money tomorrow! I promise!" Dylan wailed, crawling backward toward the teacher's desk, while still holding his leg as if it were about to fall off. "Keep him away from me!"

"What's the meaning of this?" Mrs. McKinney, the English teacher, demanded as she rushed up to place herself protectively between Dylan and Gerallt.

"I saw the whole thing," Colin offered from his desk in the back of the room. "Dylan was just walking up to hand in his assignment when Gerallt tripped him and shoved Dylan as he was falling."

"I nevah," Gerallt protested, turning around to face his new accuser.

"Yes, you did!" Clayton said from his desk next to Colin. "Mrs. McKinney, Gerallt's been forcing kids he doesn't like to give him their lunch money and threatening to hex us if we don't pay him."

"I did not!" Gerallt shouted, looking back and forth between Colin and Clayton.

"Did too! Why else would I be paying you every week since you did this to me?" Clayton said, raising his hand so that everyone could see the splint on his finger. Murmuring in agreement, several students seemed ready to accept any accusation against a Hawthorne.

Meanwhile, Dylan lay whining and whimpering on the ground, and Mrs. McKinney could feel the situation rapidly spinning out of her control. "Mr. Hawthorne, you will take yourself immediately to Principal Tanner while I take Mr. Jones to the school nurse."

"But..." Gerallt objected.

"No but's," Mrs. McKinney interrupted. "Go now. I will deal with you later." Turning around, she bent down to lightly touch Dylan's leg. Dylan winced in pain.

Giving a defeated look at Matt, Gerallt slowly picked up his things and headed for the door.

"Excuse me, Mrs. McKinney," Matt said, as Gerallt left the room, hoping to explain that they were talking and that Gerallt couldn't have done what the others said.

"Not now, Mr. Mitchell. I have to escort Mr. Jones to the nurse's office."

"But, Mrs. McKenney, Gerallt didn't..."

"Mr. Mitchell," the English teacher interrupted. "think carefully before you say another word. I may not see you and Mr. Hawthorne whispering when my back is turned, but there's nothing wrong with my hearing. If you try to help your friend by lying, you'll give me no choice but to send you to the principal, too."

Matt nodded. The end-of-class bell rang, and Matt picked up his belongings and headed off to gym class. I'll stop by the office after school, he thought, and explain to the principal what really happened.

By the time Matt dropped off his books at his locker and made it to the gym, the next bell had already rung. The first boys were heading out onto the gym floor just as he entered the boys' locker room. Matt opened his locker, took out his PE clothes, and turned to find Colin and Clayton standing behind him. Glaring menacingly, the pair silently blocked his escape until the last boy had left the room.

"So, where's your witch friend now?" Colin asked with a sneer. "I don't see any seagulls. Do you, Clayton?"

"Nope, no seagulls here," Clayton answered, looking stupidly around the locker room. "What about you, Matt? Do you see any seagulls?"

"What do you want, guys?" Matt asked, stalling for time while he tried to figure out how to get past them and out of the locker room.

"We have some unfinished business, you and me," Colin said, taking a step forward.

"Me, too," Clayton added, glaring down at Matt, whose back was now up against his locker.

"Come on, guys," Matt said, hoping to hear someone's, anyone's, footsteps entering the room. "I don't want any trouble."

"Now that's funny, ain't it?" Colin replied with a definite edge to his voice. "Cause you're definitely going to get some. Right, Clayton?"

"Right," Clayton answered, smiling like a lion standing over a defenseless antelope. "It's payback time."

Suddenly, Matt heard the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching.

The three boys turned to see Dylan running into the locker room.

"Great performance, Dylan," Colin said, as Dylan hurried over to join the others. "Definitely Oscar material."

"Yeah," Clayton said. "I thought you might have actually hurt yourself."

"It went just like you said it would, Colin. And look." Dylan proudly held up a piece of paper as if it were a trophy. "I even got a note from the nurse saying I don't have to do any exercises today."

Colin nodded to Dylan, and the two silently moved to approach Matt from opposite sides. Soon he was totally trapped, cornered between the bench and the row of lockers, with Dylan on his left, Colin on his right, and Clayton directly in front of him.

Filled first with fear, followed by resignation, and finally anger, Matt clenched his fists and prepared for the inevitable attack. Well, if I'm going to be beat up, he thought, I may as well go down fighting. I can't take them all, but at least I can give that little s**t Dylan something real to cry about this time.

"Now!" Colin exclaimed. As Clayton and Dylan lunged at him, Matt immediately spun to his left and hit Dylan's nose with all his strength. Colin's toady yelped and fell backward between the bench and the lockers with blood pouring from his nose. Unfortunately, Matt had turned his back on Colin, who quickly grabbed him from behind. Matt struggled to free his arms from Colin's vice-like grip, but it was no use. Suddenly, Clayton's good hand, balled into a fist, connected solidly with Matt's stomach. Gasping for breath with the wind knocked out of him, Matt could only stand there as Clayton struck him four more times in rapid succession.

"That's what happens to people who side with a Hawthorne," Colin hissed in Matt's ear. "And this is for hitting Dylan. "Stop!" Colin shouted at the top of his lungs. "Matt! Get off him! You're killing him."

Matt struggled to break free as Colin dragged him out from behind the bench and away from Clayton and Dylan. It was hopeless. He could barely breathe from being hit, and Colin's grip was too tight to break.

Matt heard the sounds of shouting and running feet coming from the gym. The class, led by Mr. Armstrong, the gym teacher, poured into the locker room to see Dylan lying on his back, moaning for real as blood streamed down his face and onto the concrete floor. Colin still held Matt who clenched his fists in rage and frustration.

"Who started this?" Mr. Armstrong demanded, walking over to help Dylan to his feet.

Before Matt could find the air to answer, Clayton answered, "Matt jumped Dylan just as he walked in. He said something about teaching Dylan a lesson for ratting on Gerallt last period in English class. Matt was on top of Dylan, beating the crap out of him when Colin ran up and grabbed Matt from behind and started yelling at him to stop. Matt kept trying to get at Dylan, so Colin had to hold him until you got here. I'd have tried to help Dylan myself, but my broken finger...." Clayton held up the splint on his right hand and made a gesture as if he were helpless to do anything.

"Is that what happened?" Mr. Armstrong asked, looking at Colin.

"Yes, sir," Colin answered. "Is Dylan okay?"

"But..." Matt managed to say.

"I've heard enough, Mr. Mitchell!" Mr. Armstrong interrupted. "Go straight to the Principal's office and wait for me. I'll see you there just as soon as I see Mr. Jones to the nurse's office."

Matt looked around the room, didn't see a single sympathetic face, and realized that arguing would be pointless. Colin, Clayton, and Dylan had set him up just like they'd set up Gerallt. Seething with rage at the injustice of the situation, Matt stormed out of the locker room and headed for the office.

Gerallt was still waiting outside the principal's office when Matt arrived.

"Matt!" Gerallt whispered, smiling with gratitude as his friend sat down. "I'm glad you decided tah come and tell Mr. Tanner what really happened. I can't believe how well they set me up. I was really startin' tah worry."

Matt didn't return the smile. "Sorry, Gerallt. Mrs. McKinney got on my case when I tried to tell her. The bell rang, and I didn't know what to do, so I went to gym class. I made a big mistake of putting off coming here until after school."

"So, what are you doin' heah?" Gerallt asked quietly, glancing up at the clock. Only 20 minutes had passed since Dylan had fallen.

"Colin and Clayton trapped me in the locker room until Dylan arrived," Matt whispered. "It was obvious they were going to beat me up, so I was ready when they made their move. I managed to hit Dylan before Colin grabbed me from behind, and Clayton began punching me in the guts with his left hand. Then, the three put on this big act for Mr. Armstrong, claiming that I was the one who started it by jumping Dylan. He bought it hook, line, and sinker."

"What a pissah!" Gerallt muttered. "We've been had, but good."

"Yeah," Matt agreed, hanging his head. "They managed to separate us so that it ended up three to one. Now, no one's going to believe anything I say."

"It must have been Colin," Gerallt surmised. "He's the only one of the three smart enough tah have come up with somethin' like this. Dylan wouldn't dare try tah tell the others what tah do, and Clayton's numb as dirt."

"Yep," Matt agreed, correctly assuming that 'numb' was the Maine colloquialism for dumb. "They blindsided us good. I certainly didn't see it coming."

"Well, there's goin' tah be somethin' comin' their way," Gerallt answered angrily, his voice edging louder. "I'm definitely goin' tah get Colin for this! And Clayton and Dylan, too!"

"Step into my office, gentlemen," Principal Tanner ordered, walking past them to open his door. Both boys had been so involved in their conversation that neither had heard nor seen him coming. "I've just come from talking with Mrs. McKinney and Mr. Armstrong. I've also seen Dylan Jones who, thanks to you two, is once more in the nurse's office, this time with a b****y nose to go with his injured knee. And if that weren't enough, I understand that you, Mr. Hawthorne, have been extorting money from your classmates under threat of witchcraft. And just now, I overhear you making more threats against Dylan, as well as Colin O'Connell and Clayton Cartwright, who apparently have done nothing more than tell their teachers what you did." He stopped to glare across his desk at the two boys, neither of whom dared to look back at him.

"Well," Mr. Tanner demanded, "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Matt and Gerallt looked at the principal, at each other, and then back again. The situation looked so bad, neither boy knew where to begin.

"Okay, Mr. Hawthorne. You first," Mr. Tanner said. "What happened in English Class?"

"Well... Matt and I were talkin' when Dylan suddenly pushed in between us, fell, and started yellin' at me."

"So, you and Mr. Mitchell were talking in class," Mr. Tanner observed.

"Er... ayah" Gerallt conceded. "Then Colin and Clayton lied about what happened. All three did. I didn't trip Dylan, and I nevah took money from anyone."

"So, you would have me believe that Dylan injured himself, all three of them lied about you, and you're totally innocent of everything except talking in class," Mr. Tanner observed.

Gerallt nodded.

"That's right, Mr. Tanner," Matt said. "I saw the whole thing. They set Gerallt up. Dylan wasn't really hurt; he was just faking it to get Gerallt in trouble."

"So you say," Mr. Tanner replied. "Well now, let's discuss what happened in the locker room, shall we? I suppose you're going to tell me Dylan was also faking his b****y nose."

"No," Matt answered, angry again at the memory of Dylan bragging about what he'd done to Gerallt. "I hit him. But it wasn't my fault!"

"Oh, it was an accident then?" Mr. Tanner asked. "He just accidentally hit your hand with his nose."

"No," Matt replied, worried about where the conversation was heading, but having no idea how to stop it. "I hit him, but Colin, Clayton, and Dylan had me trapped and were getting ready to beat me up. They planned the whole thing in English class so that I'd be alone, and Gerallt couldn't protect me with his..." Matt stopped mid-sentence when he realized that he was about to say the 'm' word.

"Protect you with his what, Mr. Mitchell?" Mr. Tanner asked, smiling. "His magic?" The principal looked across from Matt to Gerallt and back. Both boys squirmed in their chairs, but neither said anything. "I think this has gone on quite long enough, don't you? I'm going to have to call your parents and ask them to come in. You can retake your seats outside in the hall. And close the door behind you."

Once Gerallt and Matt left, Mr. Tanner opened the school directory, looked up Sam's work number, and placed the call. Although the principal's voice was too muffled for the boys to understand, the tone was clear.

"We're doomed," Matt said.

"Doomed," Gerallt agreed.