Raleigh's Prep

Pounds of Flesh-3

Topher, a wicked gleam in his eye, said, “What’s in your backpack, Marvin?”

The table hushed. The contents of Marvin Grimm’s backpack were the subject of wild, and often ludicrous, speculation. Marvin shrugged and shoved a small stack of pancakes into his face. Topher pressed on.

“I like to imagine it is your storage container for hacked up limbs, all wrapped in cheesecloth.”

Marvin shoveled a mound of beans into his face.

“How would you like to find out?”

“Yes, Topher,” Zorn said. “How would you like to find out?”

An apple struck Marvin directly in the forehead and he didn’t bat an eyelash. It fell into his lap, defeated and embarrassed. When he was done with the pancakes, he started in on entire second breakfast that he’d hidden underneath: bacon, eggs, steak. He devoured this in much the same manner he had the pancakes. Another apple sailed by and he swatted it. It exploded.

Zorn caught another apple as it zipped past and took a bite.

“Who’s throwing all of this fruit?”

I, Dennis adjusted his eye plate, studying the images.

“Two boys next to the window in the back.”

“Oh?”

Zorn stood up, the apple in his paw, and scanned the cafeteria for the offenders. He spotted them, two older boys in the corner, ducking and giggling. He threw the apple as hard as he could, hitting one of them in the back of the head and sending him face first into his bowl of oatmeal. There was a brief break in the cafeteria din, and then the room burst into applause and laughter from all directions. The boy stood up, angry and ready to fight, but when he saw who threw it he paused. The boys around him booed and called him names, and he glanced at them, sheepish, before he sat down and wiped the oatmeal off his face with a napkin.

Zorn sat down.

“It seems Mr. Stoneman isn’t the only one who knows about our past.”

“We need to get down to serious business,” Topher said.

Gertrude swallowed.

“Oh, yes. I’ve been meaning to ask you about those weird slapping noises you make in the bathroom.”

“No, not that! We must discuss the heer-haw that we found in the wee-oow.”

“The what?”

“You know.” Topher jerked his head in the direction of the athletic fields. “The thing.”

“I’m not following you.”

“The windows?” Zorn ventured.

“The body! On the field!”

Gertrude’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“Topher, don’t be an i***t. Mr. Floyd told us not to mention that to anyone.”

“Yes, yes. But I interpreted that as more of a dare than an order, and the Bill family has never backed down from a dare.”

“Which is more important,” Zorn said, rolling his eyes.

Gertrude worried his fingers, doe eyed.

“Topher, please.”

“What? Did you really think I would let something as colossal as a dead body go uninvestigated?”

Gertrude hunched over the table.

“You yourself said it was dangerous.” He put on his best conspiratorial whisper. “Mr. Floyd is omniscient. He knows when I’ve pooped!”

“I know. But what can he do, after all. Turn us in for pooping?”

Zorn tried reason.

“Topher, it does seem risky. And considering that just by being here we are in enough trouble as it is.”

“Dead body?” Grimm grumbled.

“Sssssst!” Gertrude said, his face sinking to the table, his eyes gone wild.

“Gertrude, shut up,” Topher said. “And get up. You draw more attention to yourself like that than were you sitting there naked with a flaming torch sticking out of your ass. And yes, Marvin. A dead body. On the athletic fields. This morning.”

Gertrude jabbed his finger at Zorn.

“He found it.”

“I did not!” Zorn jabbed back. “He . . . he!”

“Me!”

“It doesn’t matter who found it!” Topher said. “What matters is that we saw it. It exists. And now we must discover the murderer.”

“Why?” Gertrude said. “Why can’t we just let it alone?”

“Because that boy wasn’t just killed. He was mauled. Turned into organ meat salad. Any one of us could be next.” Gertrude wanted to respond but couldn’t. Topher was right. “If we want to be prepared, we need to know what did this to him.”

“What exactly did it look like?” I, Dennis asked. “The body?”

“Ah, I, Dennis,” Topher said. “Now you’re thinking like a sleuth. The condition of the body is directly related to the method of murder. A gunshot wound to the head yields a hunt for the specific gun that fired it. Same for a knife wound or a bludgeoned skull. Alas, our task is much more difficult.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” someone else said. A boy sitting right behind Topher. “Like you said, the body you found was all mangled up.”

Topher turned around. He was nice enough looking, with a mop of curly black hair that fell into his eyes. But nobody was entirely innocent, especially someone who ended up at Raleigh’s Prep.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“It’s not really eavesdropping if I can hear you without trying. I wouldn’t be talking about this to anybody if I were you.”

Gertrude nodded eagerly. He liked this person.

Topher was not as impressed.

“Oh really? And you’re an expert on organ meat salad?”

The boy smiled.

“Over the summer they found a body out there, too.”

“Organ meat salad?”

“Organ meat salad.”

He had their full attention now. Even Marvin Grimm stopped feeding, leaning as far forward as his knees would allow. The boy offered his hand to Topher, saying, “My name is Crews.”

Topher ignored it.

“Who found a body?”

“Some new kid.” Crews put his hand in his lap. “And my roommate and me.”

“Did the administration do anything to you?”

“The administration? You mean Stoneman?” He shook his head ruefully. “No. Nobody did anything. Not at first.”

“And Mr. Floyd didn’t catch you?”

“Nobody caught us. It was dark out, and . . . and we ran.” Crews paused, seeming to gather his nerve. “Me and Banks, we told the new kid not tell anybody, but he couldn’t resist. Next thing I know, he up and disappeared.”

“Maybe his sentence was over?”

Crews shook his head.

“Nobody’s sentence is ever over here.”

“Ours will be,” Gertrude said. “Five years. Three with good behavior.”

“And Gertrude’s parents are rich,” Topher added. “So it might be even shorter.”

Crews opened his mouth to speak, but right when he did, somebody popped a paper bag. All five boys jumped. The cafeteria erupted in a chorus of ‘Oohs! and Ahhs!‘ Crews joined in, crying, “Bravo!” Then to Topher he said, “Everybody here has rich parents, and nobody ever leaves.”

Topher pondered this, swirled his juice around in the cup. When the noise died down, Crews continued.

“The day after we found the body, Stoneman called an assembly. Told us that ‘Wesley Watts was out early in the morning helping Mr. Floyd cut down a tree in the woods that had been damaged in a storm.’ He told us Wesley fell and broke his neck, ruled it an accident, but I knew he was lying. I saw the body. That kid didn’t fall. It looked like he’d been eaten.”

“Are you saying there are wolves in the woods?”

The boy leaned forward again. “Not just any kind of wolves. Werewolves.”

All of them stared at him, transfixed. Then Topher laughed aloud.

“Balderdash!” he declared.

“Poppycock!” Zorn added.

“Sssssst!” Gertrude hissed.

Topher wiped a tear from his eye.

“Oh dear. You really had us going.”

The boy stared back, clenching his jaw.

“I’m serious.”

“Fine. There are fairy tale monsters in the woods.”

“Is your roommate around?” Gertrude asked. “We could ask him what he thinks.”

The boy opened his mouth to say something, then he shook his head.

“Banks has a big mouth. I’m surprised he was able to keep it to himself this long. He got up early, I think. We were supposed to meet up for breakfast, but—”

There was a commotion at the front of the cafeteria. They all turned and saw Mr. Floyd wheeling in a lectern with a microphone on it. Stoneman followed close behind. Everyone fell into a tense silence as Mr. Floyd plugged a mic cable into the wall. Stoneman took the lectern and spoke, his voice coming out of the speakers bolted into the walls all around the cafeteria.

“Your attention, please. We regret to announce that at six o’clock this morning, the body of John Banks was discovered floating in Lake Perish.” He voice did not quaver. “It appears to be a suicide, though the investigation is ongoing.”

He allowed for the whispers to diminish before speaking again.

“Grief counselors will be available at Merton Hall for those of you who need someone to talk to. There will be an extra room search scheduled at a time of our choosing. Classes will still continue as usual. Please do not try to visit the athletic fields or the lake today, as they are closed for the investigation.”

The lunch bell rang, signaling the ten-minute transition to post-meal room inspection. Chairs scraped against the tile, utensils clattered, and chatter dinned the air. Topher got ready to leave. The boy didn’t move. He sat where he was, processing what he just heard.

“What did you say your roommate’s name was?” Topher asked him.

Crews didn’t answer. He stood up and picked up his tray, keeping his back to them, wiped his face on his sleeve.

“Wait,” Topher said.

Crews walked away from the table, then paused, seeming to think. He turned abruptly and came back, his eyes red and brimming. “John’s the third one to die this year. You don’t have to believe me about the wolves. Full moon tonight. Go out into the woods and see for yourself.” Then he left, saying over his shoulder, “I bet you won’t.”

Topher was incensed by the challenge. All evening long he struggled with the absurdity of what Crews told him and the desire to prove him wrong. Finally, when he could take it no longer, he stood up from behind his desk and said, “Dammit! I’ll not be made a fool of. Grab your gear, boys. We’re going werewolf hunting.”

Zorn, who was reading The Awakening for English class, had not expected such an outburst. Nor did he expect the codpiece Topher threw at him. He welcomed the diversion, though. He thought Edna a weak, pathetic little woman, and the sooner he could get away from her, the better. Even if it took gallivanting around with a metal contraption clasped up his, to his . . . around his waist.

“Why a codpiece?”

Topher lowered his voice and growled, “Incubi.”

Zorn stared at it.

“Should I wear it in front or in back?”

“What do you think?”

Topher tossed an iron collar at Gertrude, who was trying to complete his Historical Math Analysis homework for his Historical Math Analysis class. He had no idea how or why learning nautical navigation would benefit him in the future, as he thought sailors a rather surly and unapproachable lot, known more for their salty language, high seas s****l desperation, and questionable career choices than anything else, and the sooner he could get away from thoughts of buggery the better. Even if it took gallivanting around with a piece of iron clasped to his, around his . . . hopefully Topher intended to clasp it around his neck.

“Why an iron collar?”

“Vampires”

Gertrude put the collar down on his desk and decisively pushed it away.

“Look, Gertrude,” Topher said. “We’re not going werewolf hunting so much per se, in a manner of speaking, as such, in and of itself. If you know what I mean.”

Gertrude shook his head.

“I don’t.”

“What I mean is, we’re going to summon a liderc.”

“What’s a liderc?”

“A liderc is a Romanian werewolf hunter.”

“Oh! So a knight?”

Topher bobbed his head from side to side.