Secrets of the Wandervall Mansion

CHAPTER FOUR: THE FIELDS OF FIRE

Dinner was quiet, as usual. Dad sat at the head of the long table, talking about his new job with pride. Mom listened intently and nodded after every sentence, she barely touched her food. Frank picked on his salad, he mentioned he doesn't like spinach, he kept his head down and he sat three chairs away from us. I sat right in front of Mom and listened to Dad muse about his job—a teacher. Jackson, was nowhere to be found, last I checked he was still complaining about the new school and had locked himself inside his room.

"Kattrin, Frank, and. Right, he's not here." Dad sighed then turned to Frank. "Can you do me a favour and please call your brother?"

"Okay." He muttered and got up. I watched him exit the dining room. Then a moment later came back with an irritable Jackson.

As soon as they were seated Dad started talking about the school the four of us will be attending, Dad will be teaching eighth graders. Wicker School wasn't that bad for a small school.

"Two hundred sixty-five students, sixty-eigth now that the three of you will be added on the list. Six classes, one hour each. Teachers switch classes, students stay in classrooms. No lockers, no gym, no cafeteria—meaning its either you bring lunch or eat at the restaurant adjacent the school. Its near a police station so if anything happens we can report it fast," Dad described.

"What time will classes start?" Frank asked as he tossed another spinach off his plate.

"Seven in the morning. Or eight. Its quite a long ride so I need you to be up two hours earlier than that. You'll have to wear a uniform as well."

"Like Cammittsou?" I asked.

"Yes, like Cammittsou. However, senior students," he pointed at Frank who was in ninth grade last year. "Can wear whatever they want as long as it doesn't violate the school's dress code. Meaning no dresses that are too short, no tattered pants, no leggings and most importantly, no colored hair!"

Frank's hand instinctively flew up to his head. "You mean I need to dye this black again? But Danger Days era had just begun! Besides I'm still in tenth grade, so I'm safe."

"Still, you need to cut it like a man's hair would be cut. You're not a lady, Frank," Mom waved a fork in his direction.

"Fine. I will 'cut' it on Thursday," he said then stuffed a forkful of salad in his mouth.

My attention shifted to Jackson—who sat beside me with his head down—muttering.

"No lockers?" Jackson muttered, looking down. He raised his head. "No gym? And no cafeteria? How do they all live? The students?"

"Like normal students of course," Dad replied.

"So you mean they carry their books and bags all the time with them? Pack cold lunch and get no exercise?" Jackson asked, his expression looked like Dad's when he was irritated.

"Well. The teachers shift classes. Not the students. The students stay in their home rooms, like I said earlier, its either you pack cold lunch or eat at the restaurant adjacent the school. You will have PE class but the school doesn't have an official gym," Dad explained.

The conversation grew longer and the food grew colder every passing hour. Jackson and Frank asked their questions, Mom and Dad answered, I stayed quiet, listening to every word. I had been more of a listener than a talker, unless my name was mentioned. Mom taught us that if we can't say anything good, then we mustn't say anything at all. This lesson had been stuck with me since she had said it—when I was five, before my first grade class.

"And how about you, Kattrin?" Mom asked.

I raised my head to look up from my empty plate to her face. Emerald brown eyes stared at me, not like the beautiful emerald blue I inherited from Dad.