Feelers pt. 2

Mr. Devius ALWAYS shut and locked the door to his office. As far as I knew, and truthfully, there aren’t many secrets in this school, no one had ever even had a glimpse inside his office since he had become a teacher here, years ago. Even the custodians didn’t go in to clean. One time my friend Katie told me that she had gone back into the lab a little after the last bell rang to pick up her textbook she’d left on the counter. She saw the janitor at the other end of the room jiggling her key in the locked office door, but it wasn’t working. All of a sudden the door between the rooms banged open and Mr. Devius stomped in, yelling at the janitor to get away from his office. Katie just hid behind the supply cabinet and tried to breathe quietly while they argued. The custodian was trying to tell him it was her job, and Mr. Devius had kept interrupting said, “I clean my own office! I always have, and everyone is supposed to be aware of that! Do you understand?” Katie swore she could hear the spittle flying from his lips as he chewed her out. The custodian grabbed her cart and got out fast; Mr. Devius mumbled angry comments to himself as he let himself into his office and locked the door behind him with a loud click; and Katie grabbed her book and slunk away through the door to the other classroom. And then, of course, she called me right away to tell me all about it.

And there we were, with almost a whole hour on our hands, looking at the unlocked door to a room full of mysteries and secrets. The brass knob was somewhat tarnished; few hands had buffed it clean and shiny, like the yellow gleam the hundreds of other doorknobs at the school had. Some grimy smudges had lingered there on the varnished wood surface of the door’s edge for as long as I could remember. I’m sure that none of the custodians would even touch the outside of the door, knowing how he was about it.

Was that a faint metallic odor wafting under the unsealed sill of the door?

Instinctively, I leaned a little closer to Grant, who was staring at the invitation in front of him. His breath was coming faster, and I knew that nothing I could say would stop him from opening the door and peeking inside. But it wasn’t just Grant; I was also intensely curious, and while I don’t know if I would have had the courage to open it by myself, I felt like there was safety in numbers.

“Do you see that, Andie?” Grant whispered. “We have to see what’s in there!”

“What if he comes in and sees us?”

“He won’t. You know how he keeps a beady eye on the class the whole period. We’ve got at least 40 minutes before we have to worry!.”

“But we can’t touch anything. He’d know!”

“Ok, agreed.” He put his hand on my shoulder, which gave me a little thrill in spite of my anxiety. He looked at me and grinned. “Let’s go!”

As Grant led the way, I pulled my other arm through the strap of my backpack to keep both hands free. I reached into my pants pocket, past my phone to pull out my cherry mint lip balm. My lips were getting dry from the whole stress of the morning, so I glided some on and then stuck it back into my pocket. Now we were up near the door. We both kept glancing back over our shoulders at the connecting door, listening for any warning sounds.

Just before I reached out to touch the knob, the door to the classroom popped open! Thinking fast, I grabbed a piece of chalk from the tray and began furiously scribbling numbers and symbols on the chalkboard. Grant stood there with his mouth open and his face turning white.

“No, I told you!” I tried to cover for us both.” You have to divide it, not multiply it, and you’re not considering the molecular weight of the element!” I babbled. Then I slowly turned my head. A student stood in the doorway, staring, while curious faces of students craned forward to get a better look. I could see Mr. Devius in the background holding his long slender pointer with the sharp black tip, twirling it like a delicate screwdriver, his cold eyes glancing toward us. Did he know?

“Miss Blackstone and Mr. Johnson! Please continue.” He twirled the pointer some more, this time pointing it at the door. “Miss Beard! Will you collect the model of the sheep brain, or do you wish to join your two friends working on equations?” He sounded bored, even careless, but everyone knew there was no time to waste when he asked something.

“No, no! I’ve got it; I’m coming!” the girl yelped as she fumbled around on the shelf for the sheep brain model. Mr. Devius’s brain models were a little spongy, and we all suspected they weren’t really models, but real body parts that had been preserved somehow. She found it, and gingerly taking ahold of it, scampered back into the classroom, dropping the door shut behind her.

We were alone again in the silent laboratory. We both exhaled loudly. Grant drew an exaggerated hand across his brow.

“Whew! Thanks! I just froze. That was quick thinking.”

“Thanks.” You owe me one, buddy! I was thinking. Now that the danger had passed, Grant seemed a little more hesitant, standing in front of the door, but, strangely, I felt more bold. “Come on,” I said. “It’s now or never!” I grasped the door knob, and slowly, very slowly, in case of booby traps, pulled it open.

It was dark inside, and I couldn’t see anything. The light coming in through the high windows was now behind clouds, and dim, and it didn’t seem to reach six inches past the jamb of the opened office door. A mélange of soft smells rolled out along with the dead air of a shut-up, uncleaned room.

“Blah! What a smell!” Grant murmured. Normally I didn’t take too much offense at bad smells; that’s what country life will do for you, but I had to agree with Grant. It was unpleasant, but thankfully, not strong. “Well?” he said, “Are we going in?”

“Yes!” I whispered. “Let’s go!” And I carefully stepped over the threshold into the gloom, Grant right behind me.

It never occurred to wonder whether Mr. Devius had possibly left his office door unlocked on purpose.