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“Sampson, hurry, a teacher is going to see us,” Wilfred whispered, as the four boys, Teddy, Wilfred, Engelbart and Wilfred were jogging around the back of the church, constantly checking to see if anyone was watching. A first-year had been assigned to take care of Jeremy McCain, as he bombarded him with biology questions and dragged him in the opposite direction of the boys, while Dorian led the rest of the coven towards their meeting spot in the forest.
“I’m sorry, I never asked to be born with shorter legs than the rest of you,” Sampson said defiantly, panting from catching up with them. The forest was full of shadows cast from the trees, and they were constantly rained on with leaves as they crunched their way through the now barely visible path.
“It definitely feels like Halloween now,” Teddy commented, gazing around at their chilling surroundings.
“Maybe that’s why this wasn’t such a good idea,” Eng said quietly, hunched over and jumping at every small sound. “What if this is all just a trap?”
“Come on, we’ll be fine,” Sampson brushed it off, before nearly stumbling on a tree root. “But speaking of Halloween, guys, theoretically, if we weren’t in the worst school on Earth, what would we be dressing up as?” he asked the group, still trying to follow Dorian in the dark.
“I already told you,” Teddy reminded him, somewhat annoyed. “I would dress as an astronaut from 2001: A space odyssey. I would use an old sweater, paint some cardboard yellow, and boom! The best astronaut costume ever!”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you liked that dorky stuff,” Sampson said passively, making Teddy push him playfully.
“Well then, what would you be?” he asked Sampson, who immediately puffed out his chest and grinned widely, waiting for this moment.
“Only the best character from my favourite movie. None other than ex-policeman and skilled marksman Jansen from The Red Circle.” He then mimed shooting a rifle with both hands, accidentally hitting Eng in the shoulder in the process.
“Never heard of it,” Wilfred said flatly. “And anyways, when did people in America stop dressing up as folktale characters and scary things instead of film people?”
“Well, I guess I know what you’d be then, Rapunzel,” Sampson replied cheekily. The four boys laughed, causing Dorian to peer back at them in disapproval. They all quickened their pace a little, so as not to lose him.
“And what about you, Eng?” Teddy asked him, who simply shrugged, probably not considering the idea.
“A ghost?” Sampson suggested, obviously referring to Eng’s pale skin, which was now flushing red. Before anyone could say anything else, however, they spotted an eerie light up ahead. A fire was slowly crackling in a clearing several metres away. As they grew closer, more and more figures grew clearer, huddled around it, wearing their school uniform jackets over their heads like hoods. There were about thirty of them, a large number for a small school like Arison.
“Hey, these are the lightning rocks. They stole our spot,” Teddy huffed under his breath, as Wilfred pulled everyone’s jackets over their heads to fit in the rest of the coven. No one greeted them. They all stood for several silent moments, watching the fire roar and listening to the occasional owl call into the woods beyond. It seemed like everyone was holding their breath, anticipating the start, whatever that could be.
But after what felt like ages, the leader of it all came into view. Pushing his way to the front of the crowd, a lone figure lifted off his hood to reveal Michael Deangelo himself, his greased curly hair dangerously close to the flames, and a hellish glow cast upon his visage.
“Welcome, coven of Caliban,” he called out, throwing his arms wide to the small crowd. All of the hooded figures began to burst into applause at his appearance, whooping and hollering like they had just seen a miracle.
“Show-off,” Sampson muttered, but Wilfred shushed him.
“I guess the first thing I wanna say is that, if you happened to get one of those letters today, you have our lovely mail boy Johnathan Rount to thank for that, it was his very first act of rule-breaking, truly a special moment,” Michael said, nudging one of the shrimpy figures next to him. The crowd once again cheered him on, the boys next to him all patting him on the back or shoulders.
“And if you didn’t get one, I guess I would say to leave while you still can,” he chuckled. Teddy and Sampson gave each other a knowing look, while Eng recoiled at the sight of a towering figure behind him that must’ve been Luther Pollock.
“Coven, we all know why we’re here,” Michael spoke again, in a manner that was like presenting a speech. “One fateful day this year, someone has answered our calls for help. Someone had the courage to do something that no one had even thought of doing in four years. They acted out. Big time. They said f**k you to the authorities, and the best part is? They got away with it… TWICE.” He nearly yelled the last word, thrusting his hand with two fingers up in the air for all to see. More cheering, this time even wilder than the last. This was their true leader, this was the centre of it all…and they had no clue who it was.
“And it could be someone in this very circle. Do they dare to make their presence known?” There was a smirk painted on Michael’s face. Smoke billowing from the fire swirled around him, framing him under the invisible light of the new moon. Sampson could feel eyes on him, watching him under their shadowy hoods, but he didn’t budge, even at the promise of the spotlight.
Michael sighed and gave a half-hearted shrug like he expected this outcome.
“Of course, the ender wouldn’t reveal themself here, maybe even ever. I’m sure, evading the capture of all of the staff, a private investigator and, we can’t forget the ferocious Jeremy McCain, couldn’t be done by exposing their identity willy-nilly.” laughter ensued at the mention of Jeremy. Sampson even managed a snicker, but none of his friends were laughing. Even if they did loathe Jeremy, to laugh along with a borderline cult would seem to secure their approval of it all.
“But, Calibans, that doesn’t mean I don’t have something to share about who the ender is, because I am, honoured, I guess, to say that he hasn’t been working alone.”
The circle suddenly broke out into murmurings and whispers. It was evident that no one else knew this information, except for the small group next to Michael, likely his inner circle. The four boys in the Caesar Six looked at each other with wide eyes and mouths slightly open.
“Opuntia was right,” Teddy whispered, before Dorian Dolloway quieted them all, his nasally voice giving him away even with his face covered.
“Silence! Unless you want to get your asses kicked, then be our guest,” he sneered, clearly loving this power. It was growing apparent the real reason they were gathered there, perched like an audience in front of a boy who was dangling something above their heads, grinning like a madman. A rebellion was turning into something almost just as bad as what they were rebelling against.
“Yes, it’s true,” Michael proclaimed, absorbing every bit of attention. “About two weeks before the Ender attacked the second time, I was just going about my business putting together the final sets of the Arison Gazette in the print room when I noticed something, it was a note, no…prophecy, from him himself.” At these words, Deangelo reached into his pocket and pulled out a note from its depths, holding it high above the growing flame. Nearly everyone gasped, and no matter how pretentious it seemed, the boys had to admit it was very helpful to their case if Michael was telling the truth. He began to read the note aloud, after making sure all eyes were still on him.
“At this hour, lie at the mercy all mine enemies.
In two weeks' time, if the world sees it fit,
the blood of the Earth will stop the storm.
The books you were predestined to read
will never fall into your hands.
So stay close to the window,
The third is your perfect view
And newsprint will not keep you dry
But it lets the others get wet.”
Deangelo finished reading, leaving only the ambience of crackling kindling in the air. Everyone had to take in what they had just heard, and how that had anything to do with what had happened.
“It took some time, of course, but Dorian and I, along with help from our, uh, friend,” he trailed off momentarily, clearly remembering Roger, who he had left in the dust. “We were able to figure out what I had to do. And like my old man always told me, ‘Batti il Ferro Finché È Caldo’, or, make hay while the sun shines, as you folk would put it,”
Things were starting to make sense, and this was actually serving as hope to the Caesar Six, who were starting to think that they had gotten into this mess for nothing. But things took a turn for the worse when the topic strayed away from Michael himself.
“What can we do to show our appreciation for this man, who is freeing us from this place that punishes you for untied shoelaces?” he cried dramatically to the sky, obviously hoping for a follower to answer.
“Shut up and let us leave,” Sampson mumbled under his breath, figuring they had collected all of the important information they were going to get. However, his wish was not answered. Instead, a small number of people in the crowd began chanting, banging their fists on their chests or hitting each other to start a rhythm.
“Sacrifice, sacrifice,” they said, as others joined in.
“What the hell?” Said Teddy, almost disturbed by their behaviour. It was shocking the effect one action could have on the species of the teenage boy. How someone so starved of freedom could become a monster at the scent of it, even if this new salvation was just another form of chains.
“Who would we sacrifice?” Michael Deangelo called out, as if on a game show, waiting for someone to buzz in,”
“Redwood?” A voice suggested.
“McCain!” Said another.
“I’ve got it,” said the big-nosed and bug-eyed Gerard Writhers, his jacket now falling off his head from his erratic movements.
“The only way to really end Arison is to go for an ‘Arison’, right? Why don’t we show that girl why she never belonged here…”
Teddy, Sampson, Wilfred and Engelbart all froze at once, their hearts beating out of their chests. As the crowd sickeningly whistled and whooped at the notion, the four of them stood there, blood pumping like river rapids.
“Yeah, maybe that’s the real reason this place has gone downhill,” Deangelo added,
“How can they be so cruel to the actual future of this country, and yet fuss over the bottom of the food chain: bitches, coloured people, what’s next, the—”
But Michael never got the chance to finish his sentence, because Sampson had already ripped off his jacket, Teddy not even a split second behind him.
“No, please don’t…” Wilfred begged them, but he stopped himself, secretly fuming at the words Michael and Gerard had said.
“Now you take that back, Deangelo,” Sampson said, his teeth bared, his silver ones reflecting the fire’s orange light.
“Or what, Laurier? You’ll tell Redwood? He’ll expel you before he expels any of us,” Dalloway laughed.
“We’ll…beat you up!” Teddy cried for the first time in his life, fully knowing he could never stand a chance against them. Michael knew this, and laughed cruelly, causing the rest of the coven to follow suit.
“Look, golden-boy and Goldilocks,” he said, referring to Teddy and Sampson respectively, making them scowl even harder.
“We get that we offended you with your collective little girlfriend, but she was never on our side, not even just because she’s a girl, even though that plays a part. She’s an Arison, dude. It’s in her name, so either you forget about her or forget about us. That easy.”
“Well, we never chose you in the first place, so ha!” Sampson said, flipping Michael and the entire circle off. The effect was instantaneous. About 8 pairs of hands reached for him at once, all trying to grab parts of his clothes or just go directly for his face, and the result was chaos.
With everyone in hoods, it was easy for Sampson and Teddy to slip back into disguises and crouch down, while the hoard of boys collided with each other, all thinking they were the target. Soon, Wilfred got involved, towering over almost everyone, a gentle giant shielding his friends from harm.
“EVERYONE STOP IT!” Dorian cried out again, trying to regain power but to no avail this time, so he had no choice but to join in the brawl, and soon Michael was dragged in. Boys grew closer and closer to the fire in the middle as they pulled, yanked kicked and hit. The circle was now a knot, collapsing in on itself as finally, the worst had happened, and some unfortunate soul had caught fire, their jacket rupturing into ashes and flame.
“PUT IT OUT, PUT IT OUT!” Gerard Writhers howled into the night, now resembling the wretched monster of Caliban, much more fitting to the coven’s name.
As the group still fought endlessly, and Sampson, Teddy and Wilfred seemed stuck in the thick of it with no way of escape, a hero emerged from the darkness in the form of Engelbart, who had grabbed each of their pullover sweaters and yanked as hard as he could to get them outside the brawl. Without a word, the four took off at a sprint, not caring where they were headed, just as long as they were far, far away.
“That…was…the worst…idea…we’ve ever had,” Teddy panted, collapsing to his knees once they reached the edge of the forest, the familiar turrets of the school now in view. They were all caked in dust and dirt from being on the ground, smelled of smoke, and their hair stuck up in all directions, with even Wilfred’s perfect blonde waves ruffled.
“I agree,” he said darkly, making sure everyone was alright and not hurt. “Thanks, Engelbart, you got us out of there.” Eng blushed again as Teddy hugged him in thanks. “It was nothing,” he said. “I should’ve done more. I didn’t say anything after they said all that awful stuff.”
“Whatever,” Sampson said. He still looked furious, hurt in more ways than one. “They’re the ones who didn’t analyze the Tempest properly, so screw them.”
“Well, we at least have one good thing from that experience,” Wilfred said slowly, a small smile beginning to grow on his face.
“Yeah? What’s that, wisdom?” Sampson said, sourly. But Wilfred held up a piece of paper, the same piece of paper Michael had apparently received from the ender himself.
“Wilfred! You?” Teddy gasped, his expression changing to delight.
“I was able to get it from Michael’s jacket in the scuffle,” he stated, before tucking it away neatly into his own.”
“You genius, Wilfred. You’re a genius,” Sampson repeated over and over as they began making their way into the building, making it back five minutes before nighttime checks. They hurriedly wiped their faces and smoothed their hair before ascending the main staircase, in case they caught the eye of a teacher.
“Guys, how will we explain the note to Opuntia?” Engelbart asked them as they reached his and Teddy’s dorm.
“I don’t know,” Teddy replied solemnly. “But one thing’s for sure, she can NEVER find out about this.” There was unanimous agreement across the board.
As the Halloween night drifted to an end, for once, Opuntia didn’t go to bed with fear in her heart but a solid warmth, that she wasn’t sure how long would last, but was thankful for it nonetheless. And for once, it was the rest of her friends that were lying awake, dying to speak those unspoken words trapped in their minds.191Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpWkvRUzL8C
