“That was terrible,” Benjamin replied, laughing. He pulled a collared shirt from his trunk. “Look. The footprint still won’t wash out!”
Raven Wood students were kept to a very tight schedule, and there were steep consequences for being late. Archer was often late, but he never got into trouble.
Benjamin tossed the shirt back into his trunk. “You’re lucky Mr. Churnick likes you.”
♦ FORTUNATE CONSEQUENCES ♦
Mr. Churnick was Raven’s Wood’s head of school, a somewhat crusty and thickset man whose overgrown teeth were often speckled with bits of cheesecake. Mr. Churnick was terribly fond of cheesecake. He was also quite fond of Archer, which was surprising considering his welcome when Archer had first arrived.
“I’m not in the habit of allowing troubled children into my school, Archer Helmsley. But as it is, Raven Wood has fallen on hard times. So against my better judgment, there you sit.”
Archer’s mother hadn’t spared the slightest detail in listing every offense he’d ever committed. It had all been there in Mr. Churnick’s file, from talking to taxidermied animals to the tiger incident.
“Set tigers lose in a museum, did you?” he’d grumbled. “Nearly got hundreds killed! But your antics only claimed one victim. That’s fortunate. Yes, it says here that you seriously damaged one Mrs. Murk—Mrs. Murkley? You took down Mrs. Murkley? But you’re so… and she’s so—you flattened her with A POLAR BEAR!”
Mrs. Murkley was a former Raven Wood instructor who’d ended up becoming Archer’s instructor at the Willow Academy. Archer, Oliver, and Adélaïde hadn’t been sure what had prompted Mrs. Murkley’s departure from Raven Wood, but knowing her to be a brutish terror, they’d all agreed it must have been something bad—maybe as bad as crushing a teacher beneath a polar bear.
“De-tusked the ol’ boar, did you, Archer?” Mr. Churnick had erupted into laughter and nearly fallen off his chair. “Justice has finally been served! By you! But how did I not hear about this sooner? Good news always travels slower than bad news, I suppose.”
Archer hadn’t understood Mr. Churnick’s mirth at the time. And Benjamin had been no help in figuring it out. Benjamin was a temporary boarder. He only came to Raven Wood when his father, a travel guide, went away for long periods. (Benjamin never mentioned anything about his mother. Archer wasn’t sure if he had one.) But eventually Archer pieced together the Murkley tale.
Though the exact details varied from source to source, all accounts followed the same basic premise: a boy named Phillip had fallen four stories from the Raven Wood rooftops and would have died had he not landed in a topiary shaped like a raven. It was quite a scandal. And Mrs. Murkley was at the center of it. Nothing could be proven, but most parents withdrew their children from the institution, leaving Raven Wood on the brink of bankruptcy. And Raven Wood looked it. The halls were filthy. Lights were always going out. The gardens were overgrown. And that’s to say nothing of the food.
♦ BENJAMIN’S LETTER ♦
Archer and Benjamin scurried into the dining hall and took their usual spot in the corner. A miserable server plopped bowls before them with a surprising thud. Archer pried his spoon out and studied the white, clumpy slop.
“The oatmeal’s getting worse,” Benjamin groaned, staring despairingly at his bowl.
“I didn’t think that was possible,” Archer said, licking his spoon and quickly wishing he hadn’t. “Now it tastes like cardboard and glue.”
“And maybe a pound of lard?” Benjamin suggested.
Two large hands gripped Archer’s shoulder.
“Morning, boys.” Mr. Churnick was making his morning rounds. “Goodness, Archer! You’re an ice cube! Sorry about the heating cuts. I’m doing the best I can. Must find ways to save money.” Mr. Churnick leaned over Archer’s shoulder to inspect their bowls. “At least the food has improved a bit.”
“Would you mind if we skipped breakfast?” Archer asked, dropping his spoon into the bowl. “I want to go to the mailroom.”
Mr. Churnick glanced around at the other students and nodded. “Quickly now. Don’t make a show of it.”
“I actually had a question for you, Archer,” Mr. Churnick continued as they made for the mailroom. “It’s about that Willow Academy. What’s your opinion of it?”
Despite the fact that the school had expelled him, Archer had nothing against it. “It was fine before Mrs. Murkley showed up.”
“That’s what I’m curious about, Archer. I was discussing some important business with Mrs. Thimbleton, the head of school, but she wouldn’t explain why she hired that festering oyster after I fired her. The decision was questionable at best, and I was hoping to get an opinion on the school from someone else.”
“You could talk to Miss Whitewood,” Archer suggested. “She’s the librarian. She’s very nice.”
“Thanks for the tip, Archer. Now, try not to be late to class again. I think the teachers are catching on that your detention slips keep vanishing from my office.”
Mr. Churnick slapped him on the back with a force that nearly sent him through a wall, and left the boys at the mailroom. Raven Wood’s mailroom was a crevice of a space, dingy like everything else, and encircled with wooden slots. Benjamin rushed in before Archer and bumped into a small table. The stack of newspapers on top of it tumbled into an empty mail cart. Archer hurried to his slot, spotting a letter and two packages.
“Is that from your grandparents?” Benjamin asked, sounding almost nervous as he pulled a letter from his own slot.
“No, it’s from Oliver and Adélaïde.” Archer scratched a hot chocolate stain on the envelope. “But Mrs. Glub sent more pastries.”
Benjamin pretended to swoon.
Oliver’s mother was arguably the greatest pastry chef in Rosewood. And Archer was certain he’d have starved by now had it not been for her frequent care packages. Benjamin was equally grateful.
“Are both boxes for us?”
“One’s a cheesecake for Mr. Churnick.” Archer inspected the dampened box. “I hope it didn’t get too smushed.”
He slid it back into his slot and grabbed his letter and his other package, and they made for the school’s front entrance. Archer pulled a coat from a hook and handed a second to Benjamin. They were adult coats that went well past their knees, but they didn’t care. Benjamin followed him through a heavy oak door and down a stone walkway toward the sea.
“I don’t understand why I haven’t heard from my grandparents,” Archer said, nearly slipping on an icy stone. “Or my parents. No one’s saying anything.”
“At least you’re going home tomorrow.” Benjamin sighed. “I’ll be eating that slop on Christmas morning.”
Archer grimaced. Benjamin’s father was still traveling and he’d have to spend the entire winter holiday at Raven Wood. Archer didn’t know much about Mr. Birthwhistle, but he couldn’t
