After the destruction of Jameson’s prized car, we should have been scared of what the Professor was capable of. Shit, we should have been scared long before that. But we weren’t. Thomas and Cassidy were more than a little freaked out when they saw the balled-up wreckage of the vehicle being loaded into the back of a dump truck, but even they thought it was pretty great that the Professor was looking out for us yet again. As for everyone else at the school, while the Professor was being talked about more than ever, the five of us actually had fewer people talk to us about it. Now they would usually just get quiet when we approached.
In some ways it was isolating, but none of us really cared. I had told Timothy Egan I didn’t want to go out with him again that past Sunday, and at the time I had thought it had gone pretty well. I could tell that he was starting to really like me, and I didn’t feel right about hurting him to make you jealous. Unfortunately, on that Monday, around the same time that Jameson’s car was getting wadded up by the Professor, Timothy was leaving the same gym class I had just left. But instead of going on to the main building, he had hung back with several of his friends.
I don’t know the details, but the rumors and snippets I heard later were that someone had asked him about how far he’d gotten with me. Feeling peer pressure or maybe because he had hurt feelings, he decided to lie. Talked about how big a slut I was and how he was done with me now that he had gotten what he wanted. The words were barely out of his mouth when they heard the yelling from the teacher parking lot and went to see what remained of Jameson’s MG.
I didn’t know about any of that until after everything was over. We went through the rest of the week, still riding the buzz of excitement but unaware anything else was coming. Then came the Friday afternoon pep rally.
Despite being better known for basketball, Tim was a back-up receiver on the football team as well, and that Friday our school was going to be going against the Brockton Mud Dogs, who rarely won against anybody. The pep rally was relaxed and fairly fun, and they had incorporated a competition of sorts into the rally where all the football players would take turns running up to a small trampoline that had been set up and try to dunk a basketball. It was silly fun, and most of the football players made a big show of hamming it up as they either dunked it or missed terribly. Then Tim’s turn came.
Smiling as he took the ball from a cheerleader, he started running toward the end of the court. I noticed that he seemed focused and serious by the time he leapt for the trampoline, but maybe he just didn’t want to mess up. When he landed on it, instead of propelling him up, it somehow sent him shooting forward as well. His face caught the bottom edge of the backboard with a sickening crunch, but it did little to slow him. Instead, the blow just caused him to flip head over heels as he continued going toward the cinderblock wall fifteen feet beyond the edge of the court.
When he hit the wall, he was nearly twenty feet up and struck first with the back of his head. We all heard the meaty cracks as his skull and several other bones gave way before he tumbled to the tile floor like a broken doll. It had all happened so quickly that the cheers were still fading when the screaming started.
Even without knowing the reason why, we all knew the Professor was behind it. Tim’s path and speed were unnatural and far beyond what would have been possible from him just jumping on a small trampoline. We weren’t the only ones that thought that, of course, but what could anyone do? It was easier to just pretend that it was a terrible accident. School was canceled for the day and for the following week, with grief counselors being called in to talk to students and faculty that wanted to come to the campus on Monday through Wednesday. A candlelight vigil was also going to be held that Monday night in the gymnasium.
Timothy’s death affected us a lot more than any of the rest of the Professor’s actions had. Even if we had known about his shitty lies at the time, none of us would have thought he deserved to die for it. As it was, we met on Sunday and talked about what to do. We knew there was a chance the Professor was listening in on us, but we knew of no way to stop it and there did seem to be times when it was unaware of what we were doing. At first, we just sat around talking about how horrible Tim’s death had been to watch and even lamely throwing out suggestions for it being something other than the Professor’s fault. Ultimately it was you that came up with an idea.
“If we made him, we should be able to unmake him, right? We made up a ritual to talk to him, so let’s make up one to banish him back to the Void.”
Ellis had looked at you worriedly. “It’s a good idea, but we have no idea if it’ll work. The Professor might could have talked to us anytime it felt like it and just liked us coming up with a ritual. Maybe it feeds it somehow or it just thinks it’s funny. Either way, if we do that, it’ll know what we’re trying to do.” He swallowed and looked around at the rest of us. “It’ll be angry about it. It’ll turn on us.”
This led to a long silence. We all had been thinking about that, of course, but Ellis putting words to it made it more real somehow. Finally, Ellis looked back up at you. “But we don’t have a choice. We have to try and stop it. It can’t keep hurting people like this. And we can’t keep acting like it’s okay.”
Our plan was to go down into our normal lower level hangout beneath sixth grade hall and do the ritual while the candlelight vigil was going on. The hope was that the Professor might be distracted by all those people there, and before it realized what was going on, it would be sent back where it belonged.
Our new ritual was a candlelight vigil of sorts, too, though instead of the one candle we used for talking to the Professor, we all had lit candles in the circle. We were going to take turns saying “Professor, we don’t believe in you. Return to the Void.” and blowing out our candle. It sounded lame to us at the time, but we needed to keep it as short and simple as possible, and we had no way of knowing that anything more elaborate would work better.
So there we all were, staring into each other’s candlelit faces in the dark of an abandoned classroom. Cassidy started us off, saying her words with a slight tremble to her voice and tears rolling down her cheeks. It was hard on her; on all of us. Not just because we were scared, but because even after everything that had happened, it still felt like we were betraying a friend.
She puffed out her candle and we heard a distant alarm start blaring. For a moment I thought it was some sign the ritual had worked, but then I realized that made no sense. I also recognized the sound. It was the building’s fire alarm.
We went back upstairs into pandemonium. There had been nearly two thousand people in the gymnasium when the floor started splitting open like a scene out of an earthquake movie. Three of the people on the floor, including the principal and Timothy’s mother, had fallen into the darkness before anyone realized that it was motorized floor springing to life after decades, opening up its mouth to reveal the old pool below. Another two people got trampled as everyone started trying to get out, running down whatever was the closest hallway and pushing through the doors, triggering the fire alarms as they went.
We were moving against the current, the five of us heading towards the gym together without having to say anything or make a plan. We knew what was going on, and we were determined to try and stop it. By the time we pushed our way into the gymnasium, the floor had stopped moving, leaving a rectangular void in the middle of the floor twenty feet wide and fifty feet long. I remember hearing the dying screams of a little boy that had been stomped to death on one of the lower bleachers, and I was turning to go help him when I heard you yell your sister’s name.
I didn’t understand at first. We knew some of our parents were going to the vigil, but neither yours or mine were among them. And as far as any of them knew, none of the five of us were going either. So how would your little sister have wound up there? I went to ask you what you were talking about when I heard it. Alicia’s voice calling for you from the dark beneath the gym.
I would have said it was a trick, but I went to the edge where you were bent down peering into the shadows. I saw her looking up at us just like you did. She was terrified and soaked, but otherwise seemed unhurt. I started looking around for some way of getting down to her or pulling her up, but that’s when the floor began to close.
You tried to go in after her then. Me and Ellis are what stopped you. Maybe that was selfish, but I didn’t care then and I would still do it now. I think you would have died down there, and I wasn’t willing to lose you, even if it meant we lost your sister. We wrestled and held on to you long enough that the floor closed back up, and as soon as you were free you just stared at us for a long moment before running off. We tried to catch you, but there were too many people outside. I remember us looking for you for some time around the school, but then…nothing. I was waking up with all of you on the football field, and later I heard about your father dying in the gym that night too.
I’m so sorry we didn’t try telling you this again sooner, but you were strange after it happened. You had memory gaps that I was actually a bit jealous of, and I was afraid if you remembered more, it would either hurt you or cause you to hate me. So I talked everyone into letting it go, and life went on. Your mom took you away to live with your Aunt, but we kept in touch and stayed close all these years. I wanted more with you…still do, but I didn’t feel right trying to start something with you with all these secrets between us. Just…please don’t hate me. Any of us. We really did try to do the right thing—especially you and Ellis.
I looked at her for a moment before leaning forward to hug her. I waved Thomas over and he joined in too. It was nearly seven in the morning and we were all exhausted, but the last thing on my mind was being angry at the few friends I had left in the world. Mills looked relieved when we pulled apart. I was about to suggest that we get some rest and then try contacting the Professor when I heard a voice coming from Mills that I hadn’t heard for a long time.
“This is all very sweet. I’m glad I could be a part of bringing you all closer together again. But I think we’re past reliving old memories for now. Time to make some new ones.” The Professor was holding Mills’ lips in a nasty smile, her eyes rolling and terrified as it spoke.
“Let her go. Talk through me, damnit.”
That old screeching laugh. “In due time. Don’t worry. I’m not hurting her. I don’t want to hurt you either. I just need you to come visit me. The time’s come for a class reunion.”
I thought I knew the answer, but I wanted to be sure. “Okay. Where do you want us to visit you? At the school?”
Mills’ expression stretched into a grimace that was painful to watch, her eyes watering from the skin of her eyelids being pulled so taut. “Yes, the fucking school.” Its voice was rough and angry, and it waited a moment before going on in a softer, quieter tone. “The place that you left me. Left baby sis. Left so much. In the underneath. In the cold and the dark.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Thomas lunge forward and snatch up the gun from the coffee table. For a moment I forgot it was unloaded, and I let out a scream as he put it to his temple and pulled the trigger repeatedly, each metallic click bringing a shuddering gasp of breath from him. By the fourth click I saw that he had wet himself, and as I stood to help him he lowered the gun. I saw the Professor in Thomas’ face a moment before I heard its voice coming from him, wavering between tinkling bells and grating stones.
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Credits
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