MADISON

Madison knocked the birdie over the net just as the bell rang. Not the waking bell. No, she had already heard that one. It had made her jump a foot in the air, sending Mr. Dimpleton bouncing across her bed. After he had fallen to the floor, he was lost in the luggage and clothing that Madison already had covering her bedroom floor. She wasn't the tidiest person, and she liked it that way, except when it meant losing her favorite teddy bear.

Earlier that morning, after she had totally woken up and gathered her senses, she had gotten ready for the day. Only after she had eaten breakfast had she noticed that Mr. Dimpleton wasn't on her bed. She had rummaged through all her scattered luggage, checked her now empty suitcase, crouched low to peek under her bed, pulled out all of her dresser's drawers, and even searched the bathroom. But he was nowhere to be found.

Madison had forced herself to look normal when Lara had knocked on her door. Then they had left to play badminton until classes started.

Now the birdie landed on the other side of the net, signaling the end of the match for the morning and another victory for Madison. Lara barely noticed it landing at her feet. She too had heard the bell, and she was staring up at the ceiling. "I wonder where the bell is," she said, softly as always. "It sounds like it could be on the roof."

Madison took the birdie and the racket from Lara and impatiently shoved them in the gym's equipment closet. She was still in a bad mood from losing Mr. Dimpleton and was having a hard time being polite. "I don't care where that stupid bell is. All I know is that it means it's time for class. We'd better get a move on if we don't want to be late."

Without further persuasion, Lara  drew her eyes away from the ceiling and followed Madison to the door. "There aren't many students," she said when she had caught up. "I'm sure that even if you're a few minutes late, they'll wait for you before teaching much."

"Whatever," Madison huffed.

The classrooms were close to the gym. As Madison walked by each room, she scanned its door and the subject written on it. Only when she found the room labeled "Social Studies" did she know where she would be going for her first period class. She opened the door and walked briskly through, with Lara following closely behind. The two of them had not signed up for their subjects at the same time, but by coincidence they ended up sharing two classes.

There were desks lined up in straight rows throughout the small room. It didn't have to be too big, since there were only a few students in the class. At the head of the room, in front of all the desks, there was a chair and desk for the teacher and a large chalkboard on the wall. Maps of the world covered the walls. Posters and pictures of Egypt and other ancient civilizations were hung around, as well as time lines and other history-related decorations. The only major differences between the classroom and a normal, public school room were that there were card shapes all over it, and she and Lara were the only ones there.

Lara settled uncomfortably into her desk. After double-checking to make sure there was no one else, she stuttered, "M-Madison? Are you sure we're supposed to be here?"

"Yeah," Madison replied.

"I mean, are we supposed to be here right now? Because I don't see many people, and the teacher's not even here yet, so maybe--"

"It is ten, isn't it?" Madison snapped, swiveling in her desk to face Lara.

Lara glanced at the clock. "Yeah, I guess," she admitted.

"Then we are supposed to be here. If there are any more students taking this class, they'll come, though I doubt there will be. Not many people like social studies. The teacher will come too, so don't worry about it."

Once Madison had said what she wanted, she turned back to face the front of the room. Lara sat, thinking silently to herself. After about two minutes she timidly asked, "Are you feeling all right, Madison?"

Madison didn't take her gaze off of the chalkboard. She studied the chalk dust and poorly erased lines.

"You seem a bit upset," Lara continued hesitantly.

Madison didn't like where the conversation was was headed. "Why do you ask?" she muttered.

"I don't know. Yesterday when we were playing badminton you seemed to be having fun...and you were being kind of nice. Now you're just...well...."

"Being rude?"

"Maybe."

There was silence.

Then Lara asked the question Madison had been trying to avoid. "Why are you upset?"

"That's none of your business," she replied quickly, with an edge of warning.

Lara was slightly surprised, but she recovered and smiled. "Okay, then. But I just want you to know, if you need my help with anything, just ask me."

Madison didn't think she would. She wouldn't tell anyone about her stuffed animals. Any person she told would laugh. They would make fun of her, and it wouldn't even matter to them if she was an amazing athlete. And while Lara didn't seem like the kind of person who would laugh, Madison couldn't be sure.

The door burst open and in stumbled a mass of brown hair and books. "Sorry I'm late!" Amanda called out. Soon realizing that there was not yet a teacher to say sorry to, she shrugged and settled into a chair at the back of the room. She pulled two books out of her stack and started to read them both at the same time, looking back and forth between them.

Madison rolled her eyes. Great, she thought. It's Amelia...I think. I have Social Studies with her? This is going to be a long day.

STEWART

The World Languages classroom was dark, since the windows faced away from where the sun rose. The walls were bare, but there were books piled everywhere. He could read a few of their titles from where he sat, including Classical Latin, French, Russian, Spanish, and American Sign Language. There were many others, which he presumed were similar books for languages from all over the globe. Judging by the number of books, Stewart could expect that there would be a wide variety of languages to choose from.

Stewart looked around at the students who were in the class with him. Directly behind him sat Rick. In the far back corner of the room was Heather. She wasn't doing much, aside from looking out the window every five seconds, then bringing her eyes to the door. Stewart couldn't tell, but he believed she was muttering, "Where is the teacher?" under her breath.

Rick, on the other hand, was talking to Stewart non-stop. Stewart would have been annoyed if anyone normal was talking, but Rick was infuriating. Not only was he talking a lot, but he was also speaking in different languages.

Stewart sat in his desk, irritated, as Rick quickly said a long sentence in what sounded like Spanish.

Whatever you do, don't make eye contact.

Rick moved on to another language, which was probably German.

Stop switching languages, Stewart thought.

Despite the grimace on Stewart's face, Rick's smile grew bigger as he flawlessly spoke in every language he knew. Stewart wanted to plug his ears. Stop!

Rick continued, blissfully unaware that Stewart was losing patience. "Do you know what I just said?" He asked eagerly after spouting more words Stewart couldn't understand.

Stewart shook his head.

Rick grinned. "You don't want to know. Fuit foedum."

Stewart was relieved when the door creaked open loudly, drawing everyone's attention. The room fell dead-silent. Someone entered just as quietly. It wasn't another student; it was the teacher. Stewart recognized her as the maid who had first ushered the students into the mansion. She had blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and a slightly upturned nose. Her uniform was neatly pressed and her shoes polished. She didn't utter a word as she walked in and surveyed the class. No one dared to speak either. After carefully observing each of her three students, she nodded in approval and stepped lightly over to the chalkboard.

The class stared, not daring to speak, as the maid scratched words out onto the dusty black surface. My name is Miss Lynn, the first line read. A little below, she wrote, Today's agenda: pick a language and find its corresponding textbook. Study the first three lessons. At the end of class, I will check your progress by having you recite vocabulary or phrases in your chosen language. Understand?

She turned to them after the last word and raised her eyebrows, seemingly restating her question. However, the three students were so transfixed by watching her write that they didn't realize she was doing it instead of speaking. They didn't realize she wanted an answer.

Heather was the first to notice. "Yes, Miss Lynn, I understand," she piped, straightening up in her chair.

"Yup, me too," Rick said, still slouching.

Stewart nodded his head.

The maid stared at him for a just a moment, studying his face. She nodded as if to accept that he didn't wish to speak either. Then, after she double-checked the board to make sure she hadn't left anything out, Miss Lynn walked to the corner of the room and sat down in her desk.

"Well, I don't know about you guys," Rick said, getting out of his chair, "but I'm going for Swahili."

Heather rose as well. "I'm going to do French. My great-grandma immigrated to America from France. I only know a few words, though, so I'm going to try to learn the rest of the language."

The two of them shuffled over to the most prominent stack of books and began to search through them. Stewart glanced over at the teacher. She was sitting silently in her desk, watching them intently. He made eye contact with her, and she flicked her head in a gesture that Stewart guessed meant that he should start looking for his book, too. He took much more time getting out of his desk than Rick and Heather. He was thinking too deeply to move fast. This is the strangest way I have seen anyone teach, he thought. Why would J. Q. King hire a teacher who doesn't talk? We don't even know if she knows any languages. The students will be doing all of the work. Did we really come to PITY to teach ourselves?

Pushing the thoughts aside for a time, Stewart found the sign language book, and sat back down again. The next half an hour was dedicated to complete silence. All three students were concentrating on their books. Heather and Rick mouthed the words, while Stewart made the shapes that he saw on the pages with his hands. Every once in a while he would glance at the teacher, who didn't move unless she blinked. Her intense gaze shifted from student to student.

Near the end of the hour, Stewart looked up at Miss Lynn again. This time she moved to stand up and made her way back to her place at the head of the room. She plucked the piece of chalk out of the dust on the tray, and, with one swift movement, she struck a line along the bottom of the word that said, recite. After she had set the chalk back down, she pointed at Rick.

Rick snapped into attention. "Oh, I...the language I chose was Swahili," he said quickly. "I can say 'I like to eat potatoes.' That okay?"

Miss Lynn nodded.

The next thing that came out of Rick's mouth had no meaning to Stewart, but he could tell by the way the teacher smiled and nodded that she thought they were correct. He wondered, though seriously doubted, if the maid understood it without referencing some dictionary. Could she know all the languages she has a book for? That's impossible.

Heather was next. She asked for directions in French. She hesitated on a few words, but was finally able to make a sentence in the end. The teacher nodded at her, too. Then she pointed to Stewart.

Stewart didn't say what he would sign. I don't really need to, do I? If I get it right, the teacher will know what I wanted to say anyway. After some thought, Stewart decided that he would say what most people say when greeting others: "Hello. What's your name?" After he had shaped out the words with some difficulty, he looked to the teacher to see her approval. She nodded, her icy blue eyes still intense.

The bell tolled, piercing the silence of the room. Heather and Rick jumped an inch or two in their chairs and looked to the ceiling in surprise. When the initial jarring sensation had fled, they realized it was time to leave. They put their books away and walked out the door. Meanwhile, Stewart still sat in his desk, almost afraid to move.

The teacher, whose countenance had remained completely unaffected by the sudden noise, held her stare minutes after the bell had stopped. Finally, after what seemed to Stewart like an eternity, she dropped her gaze, turned, and walked out the door.

As though the strange classroom experience hadn't been enough, Stewart met another surprise when he arrived at his math class for the next period. His classmates, Julia and Kathryn, had not entered yet. They were standing just outside the open door, both of them looking surprised and confused. Stewart peered in through the door to see what they were gawking at. His eyes widened. Standing in the front of the room was Miss Lynn.

Stewart looked at the chalkboard, where she was writing just like she had in the languages class. His eyes skimmed over the words:

Good morning. Today you will work out of the math book, pg. 5, problems 1, 3, 9, 12, 20, and 37, after reading the lesson. Then read the paragraph on pg. 7 about Pythagoras, and take notes....

Stewart couldn't see the last sentence that she wrote on the board; she was standing in front of it. She looked the board up and down, then nodded in approval. Then she moved out of the way. Stewart froze. Did I see that right?

His thoughts were voiced by Kathryn. "I'm serious, Julia, I'm sure that's the maid who taught me...."

Stewart was sure of it, too. But the name on the board didn't say Miss Lynn. It didn't say the name of the other teacher Kathryn had. It said Miss Truly.

Then it dawned upon him. There was more than one maid who had answered the door. There was more than one maid who had gone along with J. Q. King to show them the mansion. There was more than one maid who prepared breakfast. But there was only one face the entire time.

There could be dozens of maids in Murray Mansion. Stewart looked at Miss Truly—her red dress, her blonde French twist, her pale blue eyes. They all look exactly the same.