Secrets, Lies and Dragonflies

Chapter 47

The moment I turn and find the other girls on the scene, a flood of memories come pouring in. Everything from how my imprisoned stepfather possessed a sea monster to the magical sticks. And how I teleported to my old house and was tricked by an evil creature wearing my dead mom's face. Bursting with so many more questions, there's only one I demand answered: Is Spencer safe? But the instant we have company, they shutdown. No more D-Day talk. No more ascension talk. And the eye popping "concern" Rebecca and Mr. Peter were acting so freaked out about? Suddenly a nonissue. He deflects my inquiries and wants me to just go with the flow for now. So I say nothing to Christina when she asks why I look so upset.

We assemble briefly in the center of the room, the original space where Mr. Peter first held class. Ms. Lois says she will give us a rundown of how the areas are organized. Only seven of us remain. Not a single comment about the absurdity of how this came to be. No question about how the mind blowing expansion was constructed between classes. No one else is running to the back door to check out the beach that shouldn't be there. And although I remember so much more, I still feel disjointed. Like I need to find more missing pieces. Go with the flow, I tell myself.

The first floor is home to "thousands of scrolls and texts," Ms. Lois says. "In addition to studying the Oracles, the Smyrnan is to absorb the contents of all records, ledgers and other related documents concerning Mongers, Invaders and their Protégés." We learn this will be Ashley's specialty, which I'm guessing sits well with her. She's spinning and beaming and saying, "Look at all the books!"

On the second floor, we are asked to familiarize ourselves with the three different zones. Zone one is for the coats of animals and reptiles, from the minuscule to the outlandish. Of course the life size replica of a tyrannosaurus housed on this floor in the far back doesn't seem to strike anyone as odd. I note the massive legs with thick claws look exactly like the ones Shrewdy and Calculus sported. "These are cloaking pieces," Ms. Lois explains. "Accuser gifts Invaders with parts from creatures that have roamed the Earth. He brews his own potion of soot and sludge and fabricates the pieces onto the Invaders."

"Excuse me, Ms. Lois, but is that where that stank came from?" Monique asks. Wait. She remembers the ooze? Why isn't she losing her mind like me?

"That's correct Monique," Ms. Lois says. "Once Mackenzie detects the Invaders, you will be better able to secure them and hopefully avoid too much...stank." She smiles and continues, "The designated Laodicean of your Shillelagh will become an expert in identifying from which realm these cloaks originate. You'll notice, Christina—" she pauses.

"Yes, ma'am. Cloaks. Got it. Anything having to do with wardrobes sounds right up my alley," Christina says, quickly sliding a sombrero back on a shelf full of hats and scarves. Monique shakes her head to which Christina cries, "What? I can't help myself. You know accessories are my addiction."

"Then you are a perfectly suited Laodicean, dear." Ms. Lois doesn't look as bothered as Monique and keeps the tour moving. "Zone two on this level is reserved for dress and accessories for missions as well as tools and artifacts, some of which can neutralize the cloaking powers of the hides, should the Invaders become violent."

Ms. Eunice is quick to interject. "But since your first mission is usually a Philadelphian rescue, you shouldn't have to worry about such complications. And Invaders presume Philadelphians are weak and easy Targets anyway, so they get too lax. You simply sneak in, rescue the Target and bam!" She snaps her fingers. "You're out like that."

"Best not to sugarcoat anything, Eunice," Ms. Febronia says unexpectedly from behind us, dressed in an athletic ensemble straight out of a Nike catalog. "You're right. Most first missions are not confrontational. But some Philadelphians are heavily guarded." That's another thing I remember about this class. Teachers pop in out of nowhere. And people can disappear, too. Like Mr. Peter. Gone. No goodbye, just poof.