Free Witherwood Reform School by Obert Skye Page A

who walk the halls at night and sing. My uncle says the singing keeps things at bay, but I don’t know what that means. I guess the dark makes the mesa a little dangerous, and the music helps. Lots of times I can hear the voices singing as they pass my door. I’ll tell you this—the songs they pick are pretty awful.”
    â€œIt seems foolish to be a singing night watchman,” Charlotte said. “People will always hear you coming.”
    â€œThey’re not worried about people inside. I think they’re more interested in what’s on the outside of Witherwood. Have you seen the chains they use to lock things up at night?”
    Tobias and Charlotte nodded.
    â€œThat’s because something went wrong.”
    It’s a fact of life that sometimes things go wrong. Most people don’t make it through an entire day without something happening that shouldn’t have. But when you’re trapped in a strange place talking to a strange person, the phrase “something went wrong” is particularly unsettling.
    â€œWhat happened?” Tobias asked.
    â€œSomething with the animals outside. It’s okay now.”
    It didn’t feel okay.
    â€œDon’t listen to me,” Fiddle said kindly. “There are good things to be found here.” He sat up, dropped his Rubik’s Cube, and instantly began twisting a loose string that was coming off the worn knee hole on his jeans. “For example, I know something nice.”
    â€œSomething nice and useful?” Tobias asked, picking up the Rubik’s Cube.
    Fiddle looked confused. His forehead wrinkled, and his eyes grew squinty. “Maybe I’m not sure what I know,” he finally answered.
    â€œWe really should go,” Charlotte said once more.
    Tobias quickly twisted and solved the Rubik’s Cube. He tossed it back to Fiddle, who stared at it in awe.
    The Eggers kids turned and headed for the door.
    â€œWait,” Fiddle shouted. “I remember what I know. There’s a door somewhere.”
    â€œThat door?” Tobias asked, pointing to a small door at the far end of Fiddle’s room.
    â€œNo, that’s my bathroom.”
    â€œYou’ve got your own bathroom?” Charlotte asked jealously.
    â€œI don’t like sharing,” Fiddle admitted.
    â€œForget about the bathroom. What door are you talking about?” Tobias asked.
    â€œThe door off the mesa,” Fiddle replied. “I—”
    The bedroom door flew open. Standing in the doorway was Ms. Gulp. Her gloved hands were reaching out. Her face was as red as her hair.
    Fiddle screamed.
    â€œWhat are you doing in here?” Ms. Gulp snapped. “I thought I locked your door.”
    â€œIt wasn’t locked,” Tobias lied. “We went to the bathroom and came back to the wrong room.”
    â€œDoor number seven is your door. What kind of children can’t count to seven? I think you’re being curious, and curiosity flattened the cat.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Fiddle confirmed.
    â€œWe’re sorry,” Charlotte apologized.
    â€œI’m sure you are,” she snipped. “Now come!”
    â€œWait,” Fiddle said. “I was about to tell them something.”
    â€œSorry, Fiddle,” she replied. “You’ll have to save it for later. These two children need to get their sleep so they don’t wake up on the wrong side of the room.”
    Fiddle shrugged. “Okay. Good-bye, imaginations. Oh, and, Ms. Gulp, they suggested you might want to lock my door. You know, to be safe.”
    Tobias looked down at the white rug, wishing he hadn’t opened his mouth.
    â€œThank you, Fiddle,” Ms. Gulp said. “We’ll start locking it straightaway.”
    Ms. Gulp led Tobias and Charlotte to their room. She asked them a bunch of barely understandable questions, gave them a little information, and warned them to behave. She also let them know that she