dedicated myself to it.
'Thank you. Now, it will never truly be gone.'
I choked back a sob and went to Mr. K's office. I pulled my
sketchbook out of my book bag and ran my hand over the cover with the gold
emblem, then opened it to the sketch I'd drawn from his mind the last time I'd
seen him.
The box had been important. It had to be here somewhere.
I searched his desk, his cubby and his metal filing cabinet,
but found nothing of note. His office had survived the fire with less damage
than the studio, but it didn't reveal any secrets that would help. Frustrated,
I fell into his chair and put my head on his metal desk. That's when I noticed
the painting on the wall. It had been moved and hung slightly askew.
No way. That was too clichéd even for Mr. K. But... what if?
I went over and moved aside the painting. Sure enough, he
had a safe.
Now what? What combination of numbers would be most
important to Mr. K? I thought back to all the times I'd read his mind for
assignments. Piece by piece, I recalled numbers that stood out. 4-15-70, the
date he'd lost his wife and child in a freak accident.
The safe clicked open and inside sat my box.
I ran my hands over the delicate detail of the carving; he'd
done the work himself. Grief threatened to overcome me. I missed him so much.
No one had ever understood me or my passions the way he had.
The box didn't open on the first try. It had been locked,
but I couldn't find a spot for the key. The box didn't have a keyhole, but an
emblem—fit to complement the one on my journal—adorned its front.
Using a metal letter opener from the desk, I pried the
emblem off my sketchbook and inserted it into the emblem on the box. With a
firm twist, it opened. I held my breath in anticipation of what I would find.
Nothing. The box was empty.
I turned it upside down, as if gravity would magically spill
the secrets I'd hoped it would contain, but of course, nothing fell out.
Crushed, I couldn't contain the tears anymore. Sobs tore
through me and I unleashed all my rage and fear and grief. I nearly threw the
box across the room, but stopped myself in time. Mr. K had made this; it was
all I had left of him.
"What am I going to do, Drake? I can't live with the
loss of both Mr. K and my art."
'We'll find a way, Sam. I promise. Have you checked for
any secret compartments in the box? When I lived in foster care I had to hide
things important to me, and that's how I did it.'
Excitement overcame me and I looked on the box with new
eyes. The inside didn't seem as deep as it should have been. Using the same
letter opener, I loosened the bottom on all sides until it popped off.
A letter lay in the compartment, and it had my name written
on it in a familiar scrawl.
~~~
Sam,
If you're reading this, I'm gone. Please know I would
never leave you here alone, which means I didn't leave voluntarily. There are
deep secrets at this school, and I've only scratched the surface. One of my
students disappeared after she left. She's not where Higgins said she'd be. I
fear a worse fate for you. Get out, Sam. However you can, get out. Someday, if
I'm still alive, I'll find you.
You were the best of them all.
Mr. K
P.S. I made this box for you. Keep your own secrets in
it.
~~~
What had Mr. K discovered that scared him so much, and what
did they do to him?
"Drake, did you see?"
'Yes. Do you believe me now? They kidnapped me, Sam. They
didn't save me from shit !'
"I don't know. Yes. Maybe. It's all so much. I wish
I knew what to do. I wish Mr. K was still here."
Luke and Lucy needed to see this. I put the letter back and
sealed it, then slipped the box into my bag.
I left Mr. K's office and walked right into Headmaster
Higgins.
"Sam, what are you doing here?"
"I came to see if any of my art survived. The first
time, I was too upset."
His face softened. "Of course. Actually, I'm glad I ran
into you. The clinic is looking for you. It's time for your vitamin shot and
checkup."
"Right now?" I had a
'Thank you. Now, it will never truly be gone.'
I choked back a sob and went to Mr. K's office. I pulled my
sketchbook out of my book bag and ran my hand over the cover with the gold
emblem, then opened it to the sketch I'd drawn from his mind the last time I'd
seen him.
The box had been important. It had to be here somewhere.
I searched his desk, his cubby and his metal filing cabinet,
but found nothing of note. His office had survived the fire with less damage
than the studio, but it didn't reveal any secrets that would help. Frustrated,
I fell into his chair and put my head on his metal desk. That's when I noticed
the painting on the wall. It had been moved and hung slightly askew.
No way. That was too clichéd even for Mr. K. But... what if?
I went over and moved aside the painting. Sure enough, he
had a safe.
Now what? What combination of numbers would be most
important to Mr. K? I thought back to all the times I'd read his mind for
assignments. Piece by piece, I recalled numbers that stood out. 4-15-70, the
date he'd lost his wife and child in a freak accident.
The safe clicked open and inside sat my box.
I ran my hands over the delicate detail of the carving; he'd
done the work himself. Grief threatened to overcome me. I missed him so much.
No one had ever understood me or my passions the way he had.
The box didn't open on the first try. It had been locked,
but I couldn't find a spot for the key. The box didn't have a keyhole, but an
emblem—fit to complement the one on my journal—adorned its front.
Using a metal letter opener from the desk, I pried the
emblem off my sketchbook and inserted it into the emblem on the box. With a
firm twist, it opened. I held my breath in anticipation of what I would find.
Nothing. The box was empty.
I turned it upside down, as if gravity would magically spill
the secrets I'd hoped it would contain, but of course, nothing fell out.
Crushed, I couldn't contain the tears anymore. Sobs tore
through me and I unleashed all my rage and fear and grief. I nearly threw the
box across the room, but stopped myself in time. Mr. K had made this; it was
all I had left of him.
"What am I going to do, Drake? I can't live with the
loss of both Mr. K and my art."
'We'll find a way, Sam. I promise. Have you checked for
any secret compartments in the box? When I lived in foster care I had to hide
things important to me, and that's how I did it.'
Excitement overcame me and I looked on the box with new
eyes. The inside didn't seem as deep as it should have been. Using the same
letter opener, I loosened the bottom on all sides until it popped off.
A letter lay in the compartment, and it had my name written
on it in a familiar scrawl.
~~~
Sam,
If you're reading this, I'm gone. Please know I would
never leave you here alone, which means I didn't leave voluntarily. There are
deep secrets at this school, and I've only scratched the surface. One of my
students disappeared after she left. She's not where Higgins said she'd be. I
fear a worse fate for you. Get out, Sam. However you can, get out. Someday, if
I'm still alive, I'll find you.
You were the best of them all.
Mr. K
P.S. I made this box for you. Keep your own secrets in
it.
~~~
What had Mr. K discovered that scared him so much, and what
did they do to him?
"Drake, did you see?"
'Yes. Do you believe me now? They kidnapped me, Sam. They
didn't save me from shit !'
"I don't know. Yes. Maybe. It's all so much. I wish
I knew what to do. I wish Mr. K was still here."
Luke and Lucy needed to see this. I put the letter back and
sealed it, then slipped the box into my bag.
I left Mr. K's office and walked right into Headmaster
Higgins.
"Sam, what are you doing here?"
"I came to see if any of my art survived. The first
time, I was too upset."
His face softened. "Of course. Actually, I'm glad I ran
into you. The clinic is looking for you. It's time for your vitamin shot and
checkup."
"Right now?" I had a
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