I lugged my bags up the spiral staircase and across the bridge on the right. I ended up looking down the longest hallway ever. I was in Room 202 and sharing it with a girl named Zoe. Room 202 was only a couple of doors down from where I was standing. I slipped the key into the keyhole and the door unlocked. Inside was a spacious room with two twin beds, two desks, two closets, and just about two everything. It was a circular room with yet another high ceiling and circular glass paned windows. A girl was sitting at the desk on the left. She turned around when I walked in to reveal a kind face. She smiled wide when she saw me.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Zoe. You must be Laura."

"That's me," I said smiling a little. I could tell that Zoe was searching for a topic to discuss. She must have found one because she said, "I hope you don't mind me choosing this side without consulting you. I'm just more accustomed to the left." She sounded just like an author. Since I was undercover I had to sound just like her.

"Oh no, I most definitely don't mind. I'm more accustomed to the right side anyway." Zoe looked relieved.

"This is my third year here. I'm assuming you're not a freshman because you didn't come to the orientation a week ago. All the freshman have been here for a week," Zoe said.

"I'm a freshman but I just got back from traveling around Europe. That's why I wasn't here for the orientation," I responded. On the flight to Chicago, the principle and I had talked about my cover and that was my excuse for not showing up when the rest of the freshman did.

"Oh. Well you missed this big kidnapping. I wasn't there obviously because I'm a junior, but this freshman told me about it. On the first day of orientation this girl got kidnapped by this eight foot black cat. Nobody has found her yet," as Zoe said this, her eyes grew bigger.

"Creeepy," I said nodding slowly, trying my best to act like this is the first I've heard of it. The principal had told me at least three times to make sure I got my facts straight. "Where did the cat come from?"

"Sebastian Gunderman, a famous artist who lived right here in this mansion but died in 1977, supposedly hid some of his artwork here. People think the cat is guarding it, and keeping anyone who goes near it captive. I heard that the girl that got kidnapped came here just to find that artwork," Zoe answered. "But that cat creature has scared everyone to death. You won't see many kids around. Most students stay in their dorm and only leave for meals and classes."

"Nice meeting you Zoe," I said.

"You too," she said turning back to her desk.

I quickly unpacked and then walked over to my desk. It was wooden with cubbies for paper and mail. There was an envelope addressed to me. I grabbed and tore it open. It was my schedule and a list of up-to-date supplies I would need class. Zoe came over and looked at my schedule.

"Hey we have Free Write class together. Mueller is the best teacher you could possibly have. He's really nice and does cool activities," she said. I smiled. I would never know what activities Mueller does because the principal told me that when everyone is in class, I would be working on the case.

"Wow you need a lot," Zoe was looking at my equipment list. "Do you want me to show you where the Student Store is so you can get your things?" she asked. I nodded, folding up my list and schedule and putting them in my backpack. Zoe led me out the door, across the rope bridge, and down the stairs. A small door, opposite of the dining hall was labeled "Student Store". Zoe pushed it open and walked in like she owned the place.

"Hey John," Zoe said waving to a tall man behind the cash register.

"Hi Zoe," John said waving back. "Who's your friend?"

"This Laura my new roommate," Zoe introduced me. "Laura this is John."

"Hi," I said shaking his hand. John waited for more conversation and then said, "Oh Zoe, before I forget, Professor Ross came in here looking for you. He said something about the school newspaper."

"Oh shoot," Zoe said hitting her forehead. "I totally forgot he wanted to see me. John will you help Laura get all her supplies? She has her list of things," Zoe hurriedly added, then swung open the door and dashed out.

I stared at the spot she had departed from. John cleared his throat and I spun around to look at him.

"May I see your supplies list?" he asked. As if someone had pushed the imaginary go button on me, I quickly rummaged through my bag. I emerged with a rather crumpled list and handed it to John. He took one glance and immediately walked towards some shelves. He started to pull one thing out after another and soon returned with a bundle of notebooks, pens, binder paper, binders, a dictionary, and a thesaurus.

"I really need all this?" I asked as I examined everything.

"Yep," John said. "You want to take advantage of the benefit that freshman get their beginning of the year supplies for free."

I raised an eyebrow. I soon remembered what Zoe had said about not many people leaving their dorms because of the cat.

"Aren't you afraid that the cat monster will attack any moment?" I asked. "Why aren't you in your dorm like everyone else?"

John shook his head. "I'm not in my dorm because I have a job here at Student Store. And the cat creature only attacks those who he thinks is a threat to that artwork. I have no intention of finding that artwork that probably doesn't even exist.

"So you don't think there is art hidden here?" I asked.

"Nope," John answered simply.

"Can you think of anyone who is against this school?" I questioned.

"Sure Martin Greenbranch. He paints at Kirk Park just down the street. A lot of the students here go there for inspiration," John said walking back around the desk.

"Thank you for taking the time to talk to me and for all this," I said gesturing to the pile of supplies that I was stuffing into my backpack.

"No problem. See you around Laura," John said.

I stepped out of the circular doorway. I checked my watch and it was only 11:00. I had an hour before lunch to go see this Martin Greenbranch. I dropped my bag off in the dorm. Zoe had not returned yet, which gave me a great opportunity to snoop.

I walked over to her desk. On the desktop was a story Zoe was writing. It was pretty good and I was disappointed to see she had only written half of a page. There was no mail in the slots and the drawers were empty, except for one.

In the drawer were two letters. One, from Zoe to her dad was about her not wanting to be an author but an artist. The second letter, which was from Zoe's dad to Zoe, was the dad answering that if she can break her four year contract with the school, he would pay for art school. I remember reading online about Buckthorn Academy, that they made contracts with the students so they could not transfer in their allotted time there, in Zoe's case four years. I also recall that the website had said they were just about impossible to break.

The door handle turned. I quickly shoved the letters into the drawer and slammed it shut. I dashed down towards my chair and sat down just in time when Zoe walked in.

"This doorknob always sticks," Zoe mumbled, jiggling it around.

"Hi Zoe," I said.

"Hi Laura," she said distractedly. I moved over to the door. "Excuse me, Zoe but I need to get out." Zoe looked up.

"Oh yeah, sure, sorry Laura," she said moving out of the way. I walked out of the dorm and arrived in the hall before I knew it. As I walked out the circular door I saw a long white limousine. The chauffeur walked over.

"Are you Laura Peck?" he asked. I nodded. He stood up straighter.

"Laura Peck, the principal requested that I take you wherever you want, whenever you want," he said. Wow, I thought, this is like a dream.

"Take me to Kirk Park," I responded, trying to sound dignified. he gave a slight nod.

The chauffeur, Bob, opened the door for me and I stepped in. Inside wasn't so special. It was just a car with lots of seats and dark windows. But still, I couldn't help but feel like a movie star.

In a matter of minutes we arrived at Kirk Park where people were painting and writing. No kids were playing, no one fed the ducks in the pond, no one fed the pigeons, no one walked their dogs, and no one did anything except silently write and paint.

"Bob, do you know Martin Greenbranch?" I asked

"I just know what he looks like and what horrific paintings he makes," he said shuddering.

"Where is he, is he here?" I asked scanning the few people around that were painting.

"Of course. He basically lives at this park. He's that man right there," Bob said pointing towards a man who was staring at a blank canvas.

"Why is he doing that?" I asked giggling as I watched him look expectantly at the canvas.

"Don't ask him. He's very touchy, but yet a genius," Bob said shaking his head and getting back into the limo.

I walked over to Martin. "Uh, Mr. Greenbranch? My name is Laura Peck. I go to Buckthorn Academy of Creative Writing. May I ask you something?" I said standing behind him.

"Shh... do not interrupt my inner spontaneous possibility grab. I need absolute quiet until I grab my possibility from within my inner heart," he said not moving his eyes off the canvas.

"Oh, well I just wanted to ask a few quest-" I started but was interrupted by another one of Martin's shh's.

I waited until Martin lifted up a thin brush and dipped it in bright red paint. He then moved the brush around the canvas.

"Mr. Greenbranch?" I said nervously. Martin slammed his brush down.

"Are you still here? What is it? What is so important that you have to interrupt my possibility grab?" Martin said turning around to look at me. He had a shiny bald head and a bushy moustache. He had thick round glasses around his eyes that were fogged up filthy clothes with paint marks everywhere.

"Well, I'm very sorry Mr. Greenbranch, but I just wanted to ask you some questions that I'm sure you can answer while painting," I said.

"No, I can't possibly do anything while I'm painting except paint," Martin said fiercely. He picked up his brush again.

"Well can't you find some time to talk to me?" I asked.

"Yes... if you do something for me," Martin said, his lips curling into a dastardly smile.

"If I do something for you, I can ask you anything?" I said anxiously. Martin chucked.

"What do I need to do," I asked my eyes narrowing cautiously.

"You must go over to the duck pond and scoop up pond scum and make a painting with using your fingers, and then I will let you know anything," Martin said.

"Deal," I said. I walked towards the pond and put my hands in the murky water. I scooped up the grimy green pond scum and looked at it disgustedly.

I brought it back over to Martin where he was waiting. I sat down on his stool. Martin put an already painted canvas on the easel in front of me I looked at him puzzled.

"Am I supposed to paint over this?" I asked.

"Why yes," Martin said as if it were obvious. "I didn't have enough money to buy new canvases so I always paint over my old paintings. I've become quite good at it."

"Oh," I said. I finger painted with the pond scum all over the canvas, making it look like someone had eaten a whole garden of lettuce and then puked all over the canvas.

"Marvelous," Martin said when I was finished. "Now you may ask whatever you please.

"Martin, uh are you against Buckthorn Academy of Creative Writing?" I asked pulling out my notebook.

"I am just wanting to shut it down so decent people can make it an art school, and i can teach there, so then I will have enough money to buy canvases," Martin said, his voice rising with every word.

"Have you heard of the legend about Sebastian Gunderman?" I asked.

"The man who once lived at Buckthorn? Yeah I heard something about him hiding artwork there and a ghost cat guarding it," Martin said taking down my pond scum canvas and putting the red paint one back on the easel.

"Do you think he really put his artwork there?" I asked raising an eyebrow.

"Of course. If I had a mansion, I would keep all my art there that I didn't have time to sell before I died. I wouldn't want someone to come along my studio and take credit for my work," Martin said.

"And you think that Sebastian Gunderman cat's ghost is guarding the painting?" I questioned.

"Sure. If you want your art kept safe you have to entrust it with someone close. In Sebastian's case, his cat," Martin said.

"Oh. Well thank you for taking time out of your inner spontaneous possibility grab to talk to me," I said smirking. Martin waved me away.

I walked to the park's public bathrooms to wash the pond scum off my hands and then walked over to Bob and the limousine.

"Well did you enjoy your chat with Martin Greenbranch?"Bob asked.

"What is wrong with that guy? Is he a maniac or something?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know too much about him," Bob said.

"Who does know him?" I asked looking at martin who was now painting two abstract faces side by side.

"Not many people are friends with him. I only know one person who is close to him - Professor Mueller at Buckthorn."

"I need to talk to Professor Mueller," I said confidently.