Chapter 21
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Matthew Johnson pulled up to Abigail Knightly’s residence as it was listed on the school computers. Since he was still technically a teacher over the summer break he had managed to receive by email a list of all the teachers, their phone numbers, and their addresses, an oversight that was helping him a great deal at the moment. It was a brown one-story townhouse with a neatly trimmed yard. It was rather boring, in fact. There was an aging silver sedan parked in front of the house with its trunk open. Matthew could see bags of groceries packed tightly in the trunk. He parked the truck along the side of the road, got out, and was followed by a parade of people up to the house. Before they could take a few steps, the front door opened and Ms. Knightly walked out and looked surprised.

“Mr. Johnson, Ms. Underwood, boys. How unexpected.” She said, after regaining her composure. “Please go on in, I’ll be in soon. Mr. Johnson, would you mind too terribly helping me with the bags?”

Matthew turned to Christine and nodded. Christine looked back at the teenagers and started for the door, and the rest followed. Matthew went over to the silver sedan and took out several bags in each hand and started for the front door as well. They only had to make one more trip before they were finished and after a short bout of hello’s the group headed to the living room and sat in various chairs around the coffee table.

“Thank you for helping, Mr. Johnson. I hate to be rude, but why are there so many people over at my house on the weekend?”

Matthew nodded. “Please, Matthew is fine. I’m not a teacher anymore. And we’re here to ask you a couple of questions.”

Abigail nodded. “Okay, Matthew. What would you like to ask about?”

“About Tyler.” Orlando cut in. “She’s missing, do you know where she is?”

Matthew was glad they had a talk on the way here on exactly what kind of questions everyone should ask and how. He carefully watched Abigail’s face for any trace of emotion. If she was hiding something, she didn’t let it show on her face.

“Tyler’s missing? Oh, Christine! I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Christine, for her part, looked completely miserable. “I just wanted to know when you last saw my daughter, and if you might know where she might have gone.” She stated, keeping up the cover story of Tyler being a runaway that Matthew had come up with on the ride over.

Abigail looked genuinely distraught. “The last I saw of Tyler was in class last Friday. She seemed to be writing instead of paying attention, but otherwise seemed normal. I’m so sorry, I don’t know where she could have gone.”

Christine was crestfallen, which hurt Matthew to look at, but helped keep the pressure on Abigail if she did know anything. “Ms. Knightly, did you happen to see anything odd at school this week? Anything unusual at all?”

Abigail was quiet for a moment before speaking. “I’m sorry, no. Everything seemed fine.”

Matthew couldn’t figure out how to bring Sid up naturally, so he decided to just press on. “Were you aware that McCoy was back in school on Friday? Do you know anything about that?”

“I know he’s a particularly bad bully, with a penchant for bullying Tyler, specifically. I wasn’t aware he was at the school, though. Isn’t he still serving a suspension?”

“He was. And he was on the school grounds on Friday as well. I heard there was a fight between him and Tyler.”

“Oh! Is Tyler okay? She didn’t get hurt at all, did she?”

“No. Tyler was fine, but a little rattled.” Orlando offered.

“A little doesn’t cover it!” Kyle blurted out. “She was crying the entire way home.”

“The point is, we’re wondering if Sid had anything to do with her disappearance.” Matthew interrupted.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

“Okay, thank you for your time, Ms. Knightly.”

“Of course. If there’s anything else I can do, please call. I’ll have my phone on and near me all weekend.”

“Thank you, Abigail.” Christine said as the group made their way out of the house.

Back in the truck, Matthew waited for everyone to buckle their seatbelts before turning out of the cul-de-sac and onto the street.

“So I guess Ms. Knightly really didn’t have anything to do with Tyler, huh?” Durian asked.

“Yeah, she seemed really upset when she learned Tyler was missing.” Kyle continued.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Matthew said, then continued when he saw the hopeful look on Christine’s face from the corner of his eyes. “She never asked when Tyler disappeared when she learned Tyler made it home on Friday. Most people would wonder what the last thing that happened to a missing person was. And did you see how much groceries she had? I know she’s not married, or has any children.”

“Couldn’t that all just be coincidence, though?” Kyle asked.

“That’s what I thought, too, but how did Ms. Knightly know Sid regularly sought out only Tyler to bully? She should have only known about the one incident.”

“So, what does that mean?” Christine asked.

“It means I need to borrow someone’s car.”

◊◊◊

Fuck. Marisa cursed in her head, her vocal cords otherwise occupied with the effort to expel her lunch into the toilet. Fuckity, fuck fuck!

She didn’t think Christine, of all people, would visit her. She had misgivings about this assignment from the moment she realized the trophy she was assigned to retrieve was just a hunk of bronze, but this was a whole new level of stress. Even the missions that involved actively scouting out enemy buildings that had armed guards stationed outside weren’t this bad. She had made good on her duties so far, but having to lie to the woman’s face about her daughter took too much out of her. And now she was clutching the bowl of the toilet seat to steady herself as a fresh wave of nausea hit.

It’s too late now anyway. She thought, flushing the toilet to be rid of the evidence. She stood up and started to shower. Even if I stop now, there's no way I can spin everything that happened. Maybe if I had stopped everything before getting Sidney back in school.

Marisa thought back to the first few days of class. Tyler seemed so scared over the smallest things. Her coming to class as a girl was definitely a shock; there's no way anyone could come to school looking so different in such a short time. She had suspected then that whatever happened to the artifact had happened to Tyler too.

When the girl stayed behind with her friend, she took the opportunity to use the artifact surreptitiously as she sat behind her desk. It was a good thing, too because she nearly fell out of her chair when the artifact glowed more brightly than anything she's ever brought back before; she had to hurry to put it away in her desk drawer. Thankfully, most of the class had left and no one saw her move. Whatever had happened to Tyler, the artifact's influence clearly stayed with her. Though she was loath to do it, she knew then she had no choice but to bring in a person. She was practically a walking bomb waiting for a trigger she couldn't divine, and who knows what would happen then. This had to be the right choice.

Sir hadn't believed the initial field reports about a powerful artifact in a small school in a small city, but he had brought her in to retrieve it, just in case it was real. Between that initial decision and now, everything that had happened brought her to the brink of stress.

Thirty minutes later, the nausea had mostly left, and she felt steady on her feet. She absentmindedly got ready and left the house. She tried to clear her head as she drove, and an hour later, arrived at the safe house. Double-checking her appearance in the car window, she turned off the car and headed inside, a few bags of groceries in hand.

◊◊◊

Orlando flopped onto the couch and buried his head into the pillows. His stomach growled and his head hurt and all he wanted to do was cry, but it felt like there weren’t any tears in his eyes to spare.

He tried to remember what Mr. Johnson was like as a teacher. He remembered him being kind and smart, but today shattered all of that. Today he was cynical and sharp, like a seasoned detective from the books he used to read as a kid.

Those books were a bastion of respite in an otherwise turbulent childhood. What he lacked in freedom he gained back ten times reading about the crazy things that happened to the main character. Detective Marlowe’s plights seemed to mirror his everyday now, where fantastical and seemingly random flew out of nowhere to disrupted his simple, everyday life. Unlike the detective, he couldn’t make heads or tails of this past week. Why was Sid suspended and then immediately allowed to come back? Why did he seem especially fond of going after Tyler? Why was Tyler kidnapped? Where did Eris go?

All these feelings collided with the question he had since a few days ago, but never spoken aloud. Why did Tyler turn into a girl? His chest felt tight, and he felt guilty of even having that question. For Tyler, the change seemed to be the best thing to ever happen. He thought back to the demonstration of magic she gave him and Kyle. Kyle seemed thoroughly upset by the whole experience. If that’s how Tyler had always felt, maybe she was a girl this whole time. But what did that make him? He had just come to terms with the idea of being gay and was working up the courage to tell his very religious, very conservative parents, and now the person he had a crush on, the impetus to his whole summer of self discovery, was a girl this whole time. What was he?

There were too many questions and despite laying face down on the couch, he felt the room spin as he tried to gather all the things he learned over the past week. He marveled at how well Mr. Johnson took charge of the situation and even did a small interrogation. He still couldn’t figure out how he had learned so much from so little. It was like watching a real life version of Detective Marlowe, figuring out it was Dolores the whole time.

“Oar! What are you doing?” Came a small voice to the left of the couch.

Orlando didn’t move his head from the pillow, “Having a nervous breakdown.”

“Does Oar feel bad?” The voice responded with a lot of concern. It was quiet for just a second and when Orlando didn't respond the sound of small feet running away echoed through the much too big house. Orlando briefly considered moving from his spot, but decided against it.

Just a moment later, the feet came pitter-pattering back, ending right next to Orlando’s left ear as he waited for whatever his little sister was going to do. A slight pressure made itself known on his head, and he became too curious to continue lying down and ignore it. Adjusting his body to a seated position, the circular object fell into his lap. It was a small crown of daisies.

“It’s a feel better tiara!” Esther grinned, as if the magic had already taken effect and Orlando was back to one-hundred percent better.

Orlando did feel a lot better. He smiled and placed the crown of daisies back onto his head. “Thank you, E. I love it so much.”

Hehehe.” came a delighted giggle and Esther ran off to whatever she was doing before.

Orlando took the small crown off his head and admired it. For something made by a five-year-old, it was well-made and seemed like it’d hold up for a while. Orlando stood up, walked around the couch and to his room which was down the hall from Esther, much too far away, and right across from his parents, which was much too close. He placed the crown on the nightstand and his eyes wandered the bedroom and settled on a picture on his bookshelf. He didn’t really look at pictures all that much, but this one caught his eye. It was of him and Tyler at his twelfth birthday party, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders as Tyler held up an enormous amount of prize tokens they won at one of those reflex arcade games. He could still hear the voice of his best friend and him laughing and celebrating that they had won at a game that they both suspected was rigged against them, but decided to try anyway. Orlando thumbed the part of the frame that Tyler was in and noticed that there was a blush on his cheeks in the picture. He realized his crush for his friend went a lot deeper than he originally thought and sighed as he put down the frame and decided to use the bed as a substitute couch. This time he laid facing the ceiling and played at the crown his sister made as new questions rose and fell about his relationship to Tyler.

He wanted to call her and talk to her more about it, and was even about to look for his phone to do so when he remembered that she was missing. Now filled with nervous energy, he had to stand up and pace his room. Tyler was his best friend, why wasn’t he out right now looking for her? Mr. Johnson had all but thrown him out of his truck when he arrived at his house, saying something about keeping him safe. That wasn’t good enough. He had to be there. He had to help look.

Orlando dashed from the room and grabbed his phone off the charger in the kitchen next to the aging coffee maker, threw on a thick jacket and shoes and ran out of the house, stopping only to lock the door, and then ran to the bus stop. He was going to help, no matter what.

◊◊◊

Durian Lambert stared at the ceiling in his bedroom. He figured Mr. Johnson would toss him out like he did Orlando when he realized he was going in the direction of his house. He tried to protest, but relented when he realized how badly Christine looked. If anything, he wanted to avoid causing her more pain by arguing in front of her.

He felt like he just aged five years in the last week, so many things had happened to him. Tyler got into a fight that he was pretty sure broke some bones, but she came out of it just fine, but was suspended for no reason. New anger flared in his chest as he remembered the blatant display of malice he saw from the principal when he handed down those sentences from on high. When next he saw Tyler, she was a girl who ordered a sandwich and told him she was Tyler’s cousin, only to confess to being Tyler the very next time he saw her. He tried to compare the two images, one of Tyler and him sitting in the office, waiting for their punishments, and the Tyler that nervously admitted she lied to him in the hallway. He realized she was actually shorter on Friday than she was on Monday. He was pretty sure she was using some remarkable makeup skills to thoroughly change her face and look, along with some cleverly put together outfits, but he was positive there was nothing you could do to change bones.

Was that even Tyler? He started to question everything, but calmed down when he remembered the look on Christine’s face. No mother could look like that for someone who isn’t their child, so that must be Tyler. Was Tyler wearing elevator shoes this whole time? No, even sitting down she used to be taller than him, now they were practically the same height.

So, what happened? Durian went through the conversations he had today, and magic of all things was how they explained everything to him. Magic didn’t exist. If it did, his mother—. He cut off his thought process right there. He wasn’t going to think of that.

But Tyler definitely had something miraculous happen. Either that, or some new medical technology came out in the last year that allowed you to change the shape and size of bones. He was about to convince himself of that and start looking up information on possible operations on his phone when he remembered that Christine wouldn’t ever have experimental medicine amounts of money, and there’s no way Tyler would be walking between Monday and Friday if that’s what she got.

But it couldn’t be magic. Could it? It’s the only thing that made sense, but magic just didn’t exist. Why was Mr. Johnson, the most level-headed teacher he ever had, so insistent on it being the reason all of this had happened?

Durian shook his head to clear it. None of this mattered. Tyler was missing. He imagined her locked in some dungeon cell somewhere, hungry and scared as mice ate at the horrible food she was forced to survive on; a tickle of water splashing noisily against the rocks.

He paced the room, spinning on his heels as he made turns, full of nervous energy.

It didn’t matter what Mr. Johnson said. It didn’t matter what he wanted, either. It didn’t matter how much danger lay ahead. He was going to help. He couldn’t stand Tyler sitting somewhere, waiting for a rescue that might not come, if only they had an extra pair of hands. His mind made up, he ran out of the house, then ran right back in to grab a coat. How was it this cold? Donning his light blue cardigan and grabbing his copy of the house key, he dashed out of the house once more. He wanted to help. He needed to help. And no amount of protesting by a sixty-some-odd-year old ex-teacher was going to stop him.

◊◊◊

Leaving the only rental shop still open this late on an unreasonably cold weekend evening, Matthew hopped into the cheapest sedan he could find. He only needed it for one night, but he still paid for the far-too-expensive insurance considering what he was going to be using the car for. He started the car and took a picture of the dashboard after it settled, taking note of the number of miles and amount of gas that was in it. He could fill out their dumb paperwork later. He drove around the lot and parked next to the building entrance, where a distraught mother walked out and sat in the front passenger seat.

“What now?” She asked.

“I need a few things from home, then we’ll see.”

The rest of the drive was a nervous silence, and Matthew tried to come up with something to talk about, anything to help Christine get her mind off things. Coming up with nothing, he just turned on the radio to whatever channel had the calmest music and kept it at a low volume, but loud enough they could still hear the quieter notes over the sounds of the car. He breathed a small sigh he tried to conceal as he arrived at his single-story townhouse and parked the rental on the street.

“I’ll be back right away, wait here.”

Not waiting for a response, he kept the car running with the heat on maximum, and ran into the house. He noted that Art still wasn’t back from Cathy’s and figured they were just trying to keep each other company during this whole mess. He ran to his bookshelf and thumbed through a small notebook where he kept a short list of all the tools he owned that had magical properties and what they did. He definitely needed the stopwatch that protected from physical harm. Out of need to see just how effective the tool was, he had tested it out with a knife and ended up with just a few stitches instead of the deep laceration he should have had. He cringed at the memory. He definitely should have tried to go easy on that test, but he wanted to make sure it could hold up in a serious fight. He didn’t think it’d stop a bullet, but it’d be enough to maybe give him a better chance at living if he needed to get to a hospital.

There, on page three of the notebook, was a listing for a ring that helped conceal a presence. It wouldn’t work if someone knew you were there, but if they were unaware of you it’d help to keep it that way, so long as you didn’t draw attention to yourself. Then on page nine, he found a small coin, which was supposed to give the holder a bit of luck. Luck being a slippery thing to test, he wasn’t sure if it was actually luck, or if he just got lucky in every test he tried with the coin. Matthew was still about ninety percent sure the old man at the antique store was lying about it when he told him the story about how he had won enough money “betting on the horses” while holding that coin to never have to work again, but he couldn’t pass it up in case it was real. He needed as much luck as he could get now. He made his way to the bedroom and unlocked a gun safe. He didn’t actually own any guns, but it was enough to hold the few treasures he collected or was given by Mr. Potts and was a better disguise for the things inside than a regular safe. He quickly found the two items he was looking for, the pocket watch still being on his person. Tucking them away in his front pocket, he heard the doorbell. Christine must have gotten fretful waiting alone, and he made sure he was going to apologize profusely for keeping her waiting. Opening the door, he saw two of the three boys he was sure he had dropped off just an hour ago, standing on his stoop and breathing heavily like they ran here.

Matthew facepalmed. “Get in the car.” Their determined faces displaying clearly that he wasn’t going to convince them to go home, and he was pretty sure all his dire warnings about guards with guns and magic didn’t do a lick of good. He resigned himself to needing to make sure these boys made it home safely. He hoped he could make good on that. He’d never let himself live down needing to tell more parents about their children. Christine was bad enough, and he wasn’t even responsible for Tyler at the time.

The boys wordlessly nodded and ran to the rental car and hopped in the back, shedding their jackets when they realized it how warm the car had gotten. Matthew gulped. “What have I gotten myself into?”

◊◊◊

“Does everyone know what they’re supposed to do?”

““Yes.”” came the reply from the back seat. Christine only nodded.

Matthew had cut the headlights a block away from Abigail’s house and drove at the slowest possible speed to keep the noise down. They were currently reverse parked in a neighbor’s driveway around the bend of the cul-de-sac, just behind some bushes but close enough to the road to keep an eye on Abigail’s car.

After Matthew killed the engine, he pulled some warm drinks out of the plastic baggy and passed them around the car. He had stopped by a gas station to fill the car and decided to buy some caffeine when he saw that the station had one of those warming mini-fridges at the checkout with hot drinks. Everyone was silent as the minutes slowly ticked by. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes. It was a slow and agonizing wait, and even with all the years of patience he had built up as a teacher, Matthew was feeling the strain of impatience tickling at his forebrain.

“How much longer?” Came a voice from the back seat.

Matthew didn’t care to place the voice as he kept his eyes on the driveway. “It might not even happen tonight. And even if she does leave, it’s not certain she’s going to go anywhere that might lead to Tyler, since we’re not even sure she’s the one who’s behind her going missing.”

“Yeah, but if she is, she has to be going tonight, right? Like you said, she's got a lot of perishable foodstuff.” Came the same voice, which Matthew finally placed as Orlando’s.

Matthew nodded, and realized they probably couldn’t see him do it in the darkening evening light. The sky was at the point just after sunset where there was still light enough to see a dozen yards or so, as long as you weren't looking at anything darker than concrete. “Yeah, I know. And right now, she’s the only lead we have. All we can do is wait and hope.”

More time passed, and the irritating feeling of impatience quickly made itself known as an itch Matthew could only try his best to ignore. He quickly lost track of time as his mind began to wander as he considered all the possibilities again as his confidence wavered. This was only a hunch, but there were too many coincidences that he had to follow this trail until it ended, even if it led nowhere.

Sometime, around ten o’clock, the sound of a car door opening sounded and everyone in the car looked out the front window with intensity. The nerves of everyone winding themselves so tight that the inside of the car felt like a loaded garage door spring that could burst at any moment, taking the roof of the car with it. Everyone quietly watched as Abigail Knightly’s car came into full view and drove slowly down the cul-de-sac.

“Showtime.” Matthew said, as he started the car and began to tail the teacher.

Thank you, Lia, for helping me proofread this chapter.

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