12

It felt as though a cymbal had been struck in that cavernous dark space, the shattering sound cutting us free from whatever had held us up, held us in place. Morris and I, already sitting, collapsed onto the boards. Del slipped off the piano bench and lay beside it.

I began to go toward him on all fours. Morris followed. Del's face was streaked with what looked like mud; finally I saw that it was the dust melting on his wet face. 'It d-sn't matter,' Del said. 'Get my shirt.'

'D-sn't matter?' Morris said as he stood up and went for the discarded shirt. 'We can get him expelled now. He's done. And he hurt you. Look at your back.'

'I can't look at my back,' Del said. He raised himself up on his knees and put one hand on the piano bench. 'May I please have my shirt?'

Morris came up white-faced and handed it over. Del's face was red, but composed. The wet dust looked like thick warpaint. 'Do you need help standing up?' Morris asked.

'No.'

All three of us heard the door opening again, and Morris hissingly drew in his breath; Del and I probably did the same.

'You in here?' came a familiar voice. 'Hey, I can't find you.' Expecting Skeleton's return, none of us could identify the speaker.

'Hey, I was looking all over for you,' Dave Brick said, walking slowly toward us out of the gloom. 'You get that book? Holy cow.' This last because now he could see the way we were staring at him, Morris and I fearfully, Del with the warpaint on his face.

'Holy cow,' Brick repeated when he was close enough to see Del's back just before Del struggled into his shirt. 'What have you guys been doing?'

'Nothing,' Del said.

'Skeleton hit him with a belt,' Morris said, standing up and dusting off his knees. 'He's out of his mind.' '… a belt…?' Brick made as if to help Del put on his jacket, but Del waved him away.

'Really out of his mind. Are you okay, Del?'

Del nodded and turned away from us.

'D-s it hurt?'

'No.'

'We can actually get rid of Skeleton now,' Morris hammered on.

Brick went '… geez… ' and sat down on the piano bench. 'Right here?' he asked stupidly. 'In school?'

Morris was looking thoughtfully at the piano and the bench. 'You know what I think,' he said.

'Uh?' Brick said. Del, who was still facing the curtains, and I said nothing.

'I'm thinking that's the second time Skeleton went nuts when he saw me playing that piano.'

'No kidding,' Brick said, gazing in wonder at the piano.

'Why would he do that?' Morris inquired. 'Because he put something there he wants to keep hidden. Sound good?'

Brick and I looked at each other, finally understanding. 'My God,' I said. 'Get off that bench, Brick.' He jumped away from the piano bench, and he and I lifted the lid as Morris folded his arms and peered in.

Brick screamed. Something small and crystalline flew up out of the bench, a silvery mothlike thing that rattled like a beetle. Dave Brick's scream had jolted Del out of his trance, and he turned around and watched with the rest of us as the small silvery thing flew in a wide arc across the apron of the stage and fell with a soft thud into the pile of old curtains.

'What was that?' Morris asked.

Brick ran heavily, echoingly, across the stage to the pile of curtains. He bent to touch what lay there, but pulled back his hand. 'That owl. From Ventnor.'

'But it flew,' Morris said.

'It flew,' I repeated.

'Yes,' Del said. I glanced at him, and was startled by the shadowy smile I saw lurking in his face.

'You shook the bench,' Morris said. Brick leaned down and picked up the owl. 'That's what happened. You shook it.'

'No,' said Del, but no one paid any attention.

'Yeah,' Brick said. 'We both did, I guess.'

'Sure you did,' Morris said. 'Glass owls can't fly.' He leaned over again. 'Well, what else do we have here?' And pulled out copied exam after copied exam. 'Well, now I know why he used to sneak back up here all the time. He wanted to make sure it was all still where he put it. When we tell people about this, he won't last another five minutes at this school.'

'We've got him by the short hairs,' Brick said, suddenly stunned by joy.

Del looked at all of us and said, 'No.' He extended his right hand toward Dave Brick, and Brick came toward us and put the owl in his hand. 'Wait a second there,' Morris said, but Del was already raising his arm. He hurled the owl at the stage. It made a noise like a bomb and flew apart into a million shining pieces. Dave gawped at him in sheer dumb amazement for a moment, and - you have already guessed it - wept.

Del walked out after that, just before the bell rang for a new period. 'What do we do?' Brick asked, wiping his face on his sleeve. 'We go to our next class,' Morris said firmly. 'And after?' I asked. 'We find someone to tell all this to,' Morris said. 'I get a funny feeling about all this,' I said. 'Like maybe Del won't help us.' Morris shrugged, then looked uncomfortable. 'The owl,' Brick blubbed. The three of us looked at the fragments on the stage - nothing faintly owllike remained. 'We didn't shake the bench,' Brick said. 'You had to,' Morris said. 'No,' I said, and heard myself echoing Del - no was about the extent of what he had said ever since Skeleton had run out. I could still hear the rattling noise it had made as it flew. 'Darn,' Morris said. 'We have to go. Look.' He faced me, still believing that something reasonable could be extricated from a scene in which one student insanely beat another with a belt and glass owls flew thirty feet across stages. 'Fitz-Hallan likes you. He eats you up. Why don't you talk to him about this?' I nodded.

On the way to my next class, I passed the Senior Room. A student was laughing in there, and all of my insides tingled. I knew with a cave dweller's atavistic knowledge that it was Skeleton Ridpath, all alone. During a free period, I did go to see Fitz-Hallan, but he was no help; Carson closed ranks, denied the mystery.