The Beast That Chose Her

Chapter3 : Part 2

“You left the north gate unlatched again,” she told Gideon.

“Spotlight was inside it.”

“Spotlight considers gates a personal criticism.” She checked the latch through the glass before turning to Mara. “Tamsin Reed. My mule is Plain Jane. She stays in the ag paddock because she weighs seven hundred pounds and the school has retained one sensible rule.”

Beyond the glass, a gray mule stood beside the peacock enclosure with her ears angled toward the corridor. A white blaze ran down her face, and one rear hoof rested on its toe.

“Thank you,” Mara said. “I was starting to expect her in geometry.”

Tamsin smiled. “Beck would resign before lunch.”

“Locker 311B,” Mara said. “Then East Annex 2.”

“East stair,” Tamsin said. “I'll come. Gideon's route includes three people he intends to impress.”

“Two,” Gideon said.

Spotlight screamed through the courtyard glass. “The bird has cast his vote,” Mara said.

They moved with the crowd. Gideon pointed out the library, the science wing, and the door students used when a passing period left too little time for the official route. Tamsin corrected two of his shortcuts and one claim about a locked stairwell.

At the first junction, Gideon said, “The auditorium video made it here Friday. One version says you climbed the rigging after a fight with the girl at the lighting board.”

Tamsin stopped walking. “You could have waited until after she knew where the bathrooms were.”

“She asked who knows.”

“Dr. Holloway answered without giving her the cruelest version.”

Mara shifted the folder under her arm. Students moved past them on both sides, several slowing without admitting it.

“The girl at the board wasn't my girlfriend,” Mara said. “I am bisexual. She was still just the person running lights, and the boy under the rigging was the reason I climbed.”

Gideon stopped smiling. “The video doesn't show anyone under it.”

“Then the video missed the important part.”

Tamsin stepped closer to Mara. “Locker first. Rumor autopsy later, if Mara asks for one.”

Gideon lifted both hands and stepped aside. Mara and Tamsin passed him.

Locker 311B stood in a bank of dented blue doors beside the east stair. Mara entered the combination twice, lifted the handle as instructed, and heard a metallic knock from somewhere inside.

“Push the hinge side before the last number,” said a girl behind her. “Then lift. The frame sags when the hall gets crowded.”

She was about Mara's height and looked sixteen or seventeen. She had olive skin, dark eyes, and black hair tied at the nape with a plain band. A rust overshirt hung open over a fitted black T-shirt and dark jeans, while scuffed work boots and calluses across both palms suggested she spent more time around tools than classrooms. She held a white flexible-learning folder against one hip and watched the locker rather than Mara's hands.

“Raina,” Holloway called from the far end of the corridor. “I need your check-in signature before nine.”

The girl raised two fingers without turning. “I'll be there.”

Mara reset the dial. She pressed where Raina had indicated, felt the door shift against its hinge, and lifted the handle. The locker opened.

“That would have taken me through lunch,” Mara said.

“Only the first time.” Raina reached toward the open door but stopped. “May I?”

Mara stepped aside. Raina caught the top hinge, lifted once, and let the door settle into a straighter line.

“It will bind again,” Raina said. “The work order has been pending since May.”

“You know the school well for someone with a check-in folder.”

“I attend irregularly. The building breaks regularly.”

The joke was dry enough that Mara almost missed it. Raina smiled briefly, then looked back at the locker.

Gideon leaned against the next bank. “Mara Vale, this is Raina Cole. Raina appears whenever the district starts believing she is folklore.”

“The district has low standards for folklore,” Raina said.

Tamsin glanced at Mara's schedule. “East Annex 2 is the portable behind the science wing. Your map predates both the portable and the retaining wall.”

Raina pointed down the corridor. “Use the south doors. The east doors look closer, but the construction fence makes them a dead end.”

A student pressed the drinking fountain behind her. Water arced too high and struck the stainless basin with a slap.

Raina moved out of its reach before the first stray drop cleared the rim. She kept smiling, though one hand closed around the edge of her white folder.

“Regular schedule,” she said.

The warning bell sounded. In the courtyard, Spotlight screamed loudly enough for students beside the glass to flinch.

The wall behind the staff washroom struck once from inside. A second blow shook the door, followed by the tearing hiss of water under pressure.

Hot water spread beneath the door. Steam rose along the baseboard.

Raina turned before anyone else. “The shutoff is in the service chase.”

Principal Beck came out of the counseling corridor. “Clear the hall. Do not enter the water.”

Tamsin moved toward the south doors and raised her voice. “Left side keeps moving. Do not stop beside the lockers.”

Students obeyed in uneven groups. Two marching-band students began clapping a count after the first cluster stalled, and the crowd followed the rhythm toward the exit.

Mara stepped into a classroom recess and pulled a freshman out of the water's path by the backpack strap. Gideon dragged a rolling announcement board away from the washroom door.

Raina handed her white folder to Holloway. “Maintenance will come through this crowd.”

“Wait for them,” Holloway said.

Another impact sounded behind the wall. Water reached the opposite row of lockers.

Raina tried the washroom handle. “The service-chase door opens inward. I can reach it from the dry side.”

“Raina.”

“I know where the valve is.”

She slipped inside before Holloway could answer and pulled the door behind her. Steam concealed the room at once.

The spray continued for several seconds. A valve squealed, and the water stopped hard enough to shake the pipes.

Facilities staff arrived through the south doors with a wet vacuum, barrier tape, and an adjustable wrench. Beck kept students moving while Holloway directed two aides around the spreading water.

The first-period bell rang. Several students laughed, mostly because nobody had fallen.

Mara looked at the staff washroom door. Raina had not come out.

Movement at the far end of the east wing drew her attention. A boy emerged from the rear service hall wearing a black T-shirt, dark jeans, and wet work boots. He was lean and slightly taller than Raina, with tan skin, short dark hair, a straight nose, and a fading bruise along his jaw. A rust-colored overshirt hung bunched from one hand.

He touched the wall when his first step landed too far to the left. His free hand shook once before he closed it.

“Calder,” Beck called. “If you were involved, you are on cleanup. If you were not involved, get to class.”

The boy lifted the rust-colored shirt. “Cleanup.”

His voice was rough and low. He went through the nearest classroom door before Mara could determine whether he had come from the washroom or only the service corridor behind it.

“Where did Raina go?” Mara asked.

Tamsin wiped water from one boot with a paper towel. “The service hall connects to the faculty locker room and the exterior maintenance door. She probably left by one of those.”

“And that was Rafe Calder?”

“Yes. He works at the fairgrounds and repairs anything that fails to escape him.”

Mara looked from the closed washroom to the service hall. Raina had known the valve. Rafe had emerged wet and unsteady with an overshirt the same color as hers. The timing did not prove more than coordination, but it suggested they knew each other better than Gideon had mentioned.

The public-address speaker clicked. Beck spoke from the main office two minutes after leaving the corridor.

“The plumbing failure near student services has been contained. Students should report to first period by the south route. Staff will receive instructions regarding the affected hallway.”

Holloway approached Mara without touching her. “I need an incident account from anyone who was in the center corridor. You may write it here or return at lunch.”

“Will anybody read what I write?”

“I will.”

“Will it matter that I was expelled?”

“It will matter that your admission plan requires documentation after an emergency. It will not change what happened in this hallway.”

Mara followed her into the counseling lobby. Her first class had begun, and the map still did not show the portable, but those problems could wait ten minutes.

Holloway put a district incident form on the counter. Mara recorded the first sound from the wall, the water beneath the door, Raina entering the washroom, the shutoff, and Rafe leaving the rear service hall. She recorded that students cleared the center aisle and that nobody had been injured.

The secretary copied the signed page on an ordinary gray copier. She gave one copy to Mara and filed the other in the green transfer folder.

Carbon returned from the courtyard while Mara put her copy away. He stepped onto his rubber mat, found no paper within reach, and looked offended by the improvement.

Mara zipped her backpack. Briarhaven High had admitted an expelled student, scheduled a therapy sheep, kept a peacock and a mule in the agricultural yard, and trusted a girl with a flexible-learning folder to know a plumbing valve. For now, the simplest explanation was that the school was badly managed, unusually permissive, and much too interested in private paperwork.