The Hound of Rowan (12 page)

Max shot Jimmy a wary look as Jason continued in a lighter tone.

“Fortunately, you won't have to worry about Jimmy too much. You see, this here is the ‘Big Daddy' of the boys' bathrooms at Rowan. We kind of reserve it for the Fifth and Sixth Years. Apprentices use the one down in Room 101.” Jason patted Max on the shoulder and steered him gently out the door. “Start small, Max—it'll give you something to look forward to!”

Max found several of his classmates huddled outside the door, looking tense.

“We heard Jimmy shouting,” Omar whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. But I guess we're supposed to use a different bathroom. Room 101. This one's for the Fifth and Sixth Years.”

“That's ridiculous,” muttered Jesse, making for the door. “This bathroom's on
our
floor.”

Jesse bulldozed through the door. The others stayed put, jumping as they heard Jimmy's voice bellow from within.

“Another one! Out of my way, Jason—leave him to me!”

Jesse came screaming out of the bathroom, slamming the door and leaning heavily against it. Glancing at the others, he started for the stairs.

“Max, you said Room 101?”

         

Room 101 was a small, dingy space with a dozen gray stalls, toilets, and sinks. A dead spider lay in a dusty bathtub, spotlighted by a lone bare bulb hanging from a mildewed ceiling. The walls were lined with rusty lockers. Peeling back a shower curtain, Rolf poked his head inside a stall and quickly turned to the others.

“I'll go second,” he volunteered.

“I loved that other bathroom,” sniffed Connor, stepping past Rolf and turning the faucet.

         

By the time the boys left the bathroom, the Manse had become a much busier place. Shouts of greeting rang through the halls. There was a constant racket of luggage and doors slamming. Arriving back at their floor, Max found the hallway filled with suitcases and duffel bags as Second Years lingered about, getting reacquainted and comparing class schedules. But when Max and the others stepped out into the hall, the conversations abruptly stopped.

“Oh no,” breathed Connor as the first yells started.

“Tadpoles! Tadpoles!”

The First Years ran a screaming gauntlet toward their rooms, past the older students who yelled and threw wadded packing tape in a stinging whirlwind of flying objects.

Max practically dived into his room as bits of cardboard and wadded tape came hurtling after him. David was on the upper level, sitting on the floor with his back against his bed.

“Terrifying, isn't it?” he said. “I went to pee and they chased me back here.” He added thoughtfully, “I forgot I still need to pee.”

“That's not so bad,” Max panted. “I almost got killed by Jimmy this morning before a Sixth Year told me that we have to use the bathroom in Room 101.”

“Why do we have to do that?”

“You'll know when you see Room 101,” sighed Max, flopping onto his bed.

         

After making their way across the bustling campus, Max and David emerged from the Sanctuary tunnel just in time to see a herd of glossy black horses thunder across the clearing. The horses were ridden bareback by a mix of older boys and girls who laughed and shouted to one another as they cantered past the lagoon and up toward the dunes. Several students sat under the palms, tossing live fish to a pair of gargantuan seals that had dragged themselves from the lagoon onto the sandy beach.

“Do you want to help me feed Maya?” asked David. “It shouldn't be too bad—she only eats melon, nuts, and grasses.”

“No,” said Max, “I have to feed Nick tonight and I don't even know what he eats. I'd better read my book. If I mess it up, YaYa will probably eat
me.
”

Taking the lymrill booklet from his pocket, Max waved good-bye and started toward the lagoon. The seals were gone, but he saw Kettlemouth and Lucia sunning near a palm. He waved and circled around to the other end, settling on a low, grassy patch dotted with small white flowers. For a moment, he just lay back and watched the towering clouds scoot by overhead. He peeled off his shirt and slid out of his shoes to lie barefoot. Closing his eyes, he let the sun warm his face. Soon, he was fast asleep, entertaining a strange dream in which his father had his mother declared deceased so he could marry Mum, who promptly turned him into a casserole.

Max awoke suddenly as something bumped him. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was sandwiched between two shiny, rippling mounds. He yelped and jumped high into the air before racing away from two twenty-foot seals that had slid up on either side of him. He heard a giggle and whirled to see a girl snapping photos. She lowered the camera, revealing the prettiest face he had ever seen, with long brown hair, bright blue eyes, and faint freckles dotting each sunburned cheek.

Max was horrified.

“Gotcha!” she crowed. “Was wondering when you'd wake up! That'll make the newspaper for sure. Yearbook, too, probably.”

“Awful, Julie. Shame on you,” chastised one of the seals, rolling over on its side. “We three very peaceful, just now.”

“Oh, I couldn't resist,” the girl said with a shrug. Max blinked at her dumbly. “How often do you get a First Year surrounded by two selkies during his midmorning nap?”

“Apologize, you should,” sniffed the other seal with an agitated ripple.

“Oh, okay. I'm sorry…eh, what's your name?” She paused, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

“Max. Max McDaniels. It's okay. It just startled me.” He turned and raised a hand to the two seals, which were now blinking at him. “Sorry.”

“Understandable,” rumbled the selkie. “You were sleeping. We give you shock. I'm Helga and this is my sister, Frigga. Scandinavian selkies. You look so comfortable, we thought we join you and sun our blubber.” She smacked her flippers on her belly with a loud slap.

“Well, I'm Julie Teller,” offered the girl, putting away her camera. “I'm a Stage One Mystic and head photographer for the paper—a Third Year,” she added, seeing the look of confusion on Max's face. He had no idea what to say. All he knew was that he wanted her to keep talking.

“Is it okay with you if I use this in the paper?” she asked.

“Uh, sure. I guess so,” said Max, reaching for his shirt and suddenly feeling very young and scrawny.

“Thanks,” she said brightly. “Where are you from?”

“Chicago.”

“Ooh! Cool city. My family and I visited there once a couple years ago. I'm from Melbourne.”

Max gaped at her.

“That's in Australia,” she added.

Max nodded, feeling stupid. They looked at each other for several moments.

“Well,” Julie chirped. “Got my shot for the morning. Good to meet you, Max. I'll see you later.”

Before he could speak, Julie was gone, walking quickly toward the hedge tunnel and pausing to greet Hannah the goose, who was waddling with her goslings toward Max. Max's attention was interrupted by a solid thump on the ground nearby.

“I go get a bite. Nice to meet you, Max,” rumbled Frigga, turning to shimmy down to the water.

“Frigga!” Helga exclaimed, rippling after her sister. “We fed one hour ago. This must stop; you getting
huge
!”

The two erupted in a series of angry seal barks before disappearing smoothly below the surface. Max felt a peck on his calf and turned to see Hannah and her goslings crowded around him.

“Hello again,” said Hannah, sounding very flustered. “Word around the Sanctuary is that you're free for a little babysitting. Is this true?”

“Oh. Well, I guess so,” said Max. “Lymrills are nocturnal and—”

“Wonderful! I've got to get my down fluffed properly and one of the dryads offered to do it for a song. You can watch them for a couple of hours, can't you?”

Hannah turned and swept a wing over the goslings, who honked and bopped into one another.

“This is Susie, Bobbie, Willie, Millie, Hank, Honk, Nina, Tina, Macy, Lillian, Mac, and Little Baby Ray. Goslings, you behave yourselves for Max. Be back in a few, dear.”

Buffeting Max's leg appreciatively with her wing, Hannah waddled back toward the forest. Max's eyes followed her helplessly as the goslings hopped onto his feet and began pecking his shins with their sharp little bills.

He spent two hours with the goslings, letting them jump up and down and run on his body as he lay in the grass and tried unsuccessfully to read his booklet. Every half hour, he would take them down to the lagoon, wading in and playing with them as they swam about the reeds in happy little circles. The water was warm, but every several seconds Max could feel a strong, cool current hint at greater depths. Older students waved and laughed when they saw Max had been drafted into babysitting service. The goslings demanded constant attention, and Max was relieved to see Hannah return.

“I feel like a new goose!” she exclaimed as the goslings clamored around their mother. “Hmmm. Seems like
someone
here made himself a dozen new fans. Thank you, Max, you're a dear. The children would love it if you could visit sometime. We live in a little nest by the orchard, just behind the Class of 1840 Tree. Come by anytime.”

“Sure thing,” said Max, grabbing his booklet. He said farewell and headed for the hedge tunnel. One of the goslings (Max thought it might be Lillian) tottered after him until Hannah herded her back with the rest.

         

That evening, hundreds of students streamed into the great dining hall, which was now golden with the light of many tapered candles lit among the chandeliers. Max fiddled with his tie as he and his classmates were directed to tables strewn with wildflowers and set with crystal glasses and horn-handled cutlery. Full-grown fauns with curling hair plucked at lyres, the music strange and soothing as more students filed in.

Seated between Cynthia and Lucia, Max studied the faces around him. The candlelight and formal uniforms made the students look much older. Across the hall, Max saw Jason Barrett seated with the Sixth Years, chatting with the girl on his right. Ms. Richter and the faculty sat in blue robes at the head table. They engaged in quiet conversation, giving an occasional nod to an older student or an inquisitive glance at the new arrivals. The music came to a gentle close, and Ms. Richter stood to address them, her voice clear and strong.

“Please stand.”

Max looked at the others and stood, uncertain of what was next. Ms. Richter's voice filled the hall.

“This is a House of Learning and today is the Day of Return, when teacher and pupil reforge their bonds and resume their progress on the path.”

The faculty and students raised their glasses in a silent toast. Ms. Richter continued.

“This is a House of Learning and today is a Day of Remembrance, when we gather to honor our past, embracing both its joys and sorrows.”

Again, the glasses were lifted in salute.

“This is a House of Learning and today is a Day of Renewal, when Rowan welcomes a new class bringing with them life and promise to grace these halls and grounds.”

Max jumped as the dining hall erupted in a chorus.

“We welcome them with open arms. We will help them on the way.”

The students and faculty raised their glasses toward the First Years' tables and promptly drained them. Lucia did the same, but Max wrinkled his nose and took only hesitant sips of his wine.

Ms. Richter took her seat. The dining hall burst into a chorus of cheery conversations as dozens of students streamed in from the kitchens bearing heavy silver serving trays.

The feast was extraordinary and soon the table was engrossed in Cynthia's story of how she had come to receive her letter from Rowan. With a blaring voice and dramatic sweeps of her arms, Cynthia reenacted how she had been visiting the aquarium when a school of tropical fish began to swim in hypnotizing patterns. After concluding that it was all “very freaky,” Cynthia yielded the floor to other classmates, who began to share their stories. Max did not share his, choosing instead to feast on roast pheasant stuffed with wild rice, miniature lamb chops, mountains of fresh vegetables, and little dishes of assorted sweets and chocolates. Periodically, older students and faculty wandered over to say a quick hello between courses. At the meal's conclusion, a great clamor swept the dining hall.

Max grinned as Mum and Bob were dragged from the kitchens by a gaggle of students insisting they take a bow for their efforts. Bob, wearing a starched blue shirt and clean white apron, hastily wiped away a tear and waved before ducking back through the swinging door. Mum capered to and fro, clapping her hands and issuing curtsy after dramatic curtsy until the very same students politely, but firmly, escorted her away. This drew a final round of hearty applause until Ms. Richter rang her spoon against her glass and stood once again. The candlelight cast an enormous shadow on the wall behind her. A smile spread across her face.

“Welcome home, students. As Director, I declare the school year officially in session!”

A raucous cheer erupted from the students, accompanied by enthusiastic banging on the tables and the stamping of many feet. Max was stamping away with the others when several Second Years strolled over and sat down at the table.

“Hey there,” said an olive-skinned boy with jet-black hair. “I'm Alex Muñoz.”

“Yeah, I'm Anna Lundgren,” said a pretty girl with short blond hair.

“Welcome, guys. I'm Sasha Ivanovich,” said a boy with shaggy brown hair.

Several of the First Years enthusiastically introduced themselves while finishing off the last of the sweets. Jesse looked miserable, groaning as he held his stomach and leaned against Omar.

“Are you guys excited for the big campout?” whispered Alex, twisting his finger around a wildflower stem.

“What campout?” Cynthia inquired, pushing away her plate.