Free Tribes by Arthur Slade Page A

revelation to hit."
    "Or a truck," she said.
    "Don't you have days like that?" I asked. "Where the world feels...unreal?"
    "I worry about you," she said. "Every day is real for me."
    "Never mind," I said. "Obviously my brilliance astounds you."
    "You are in a different world," she teased. "I hope you can still tell time. The High Tea starts at four-thirty. Why don't we meet outside the school?"
    "Sure," I said absently. "I'll be there."
    We soon returned to our classes, learning nothing new. At precisely 2:27 p.m. I climbed the stairs to Groverly High's top floor, passing the soft-drink machine where Justin had threatened me. My shoulders tensed. By the fourth floor the tightness had doubled and my palms were moist. I breathed using my stomach muscles, aiming to restore calmness. I entered the fluorescent glow and squinted down the long, shadowy hallway.
    It took considerable willpower to move my legs. As I got closer to the trapdoor spittle gathered in my throat. I stopped underneath, mesmerized. How had Willard climbed to the roof? Had he moved a chair to this very spot? Had he used his opposable-thumbed hands to pull himself up?
    A scratching came from the other side of the door. The hinges rattled. Then I noticed that the padlock was open.
    Perspiration gathered on my forehead. "I remember," I rasped. An ice age came and went. "I remember you, Will."
    One final long scratch.
    I hurried on to Mr. Verplaz's office. On the door hung a sign:

    All words spoken inside this room will remain here.

    It was intended to instill trust, but I felt grief for all those trapped words. I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and knocked.
    "Come in," Mr. Verplaz said gently, sounding as if he were waking from a potent dream.
    I opened the door to a closet-sized office. Mr. Verplaz sat behind an antique wooden desk, his hands touching in a gesture of prayer. He was a forty-year-old ascetic with tanned skin, a hawk nose and small, round-lensed glasses. His eyes were spectacular, the oversized orbs of a well-groomed lemur, evolved to soak up moonlight.
    School shaman. Truth seeker. Witch doctor.
    "I said come in, Percival."
    I closed the door and stepped over a collection of scrunched-up papers by the garbage can. His office hadn't changed since Willard's death. A forty-watt bulb still hung from the ceiling. The shade was pulled. Light bad. Darkness good. Where dreams come from. Folders lay scattered across his desk. A half-empty jar of lollipops sat precariously close to the edge. Books were piled on the floor. All a symbol of the chaos of the universe.
    Mr. Verplaz pierced me with his mystical eyes. "Please sit down. It's good to see you."
    I sat on the leather chair, which suddenly reclined at a sharp angle; I became an astronaut waiting to test gravity's bonds. We had walked on the moon. Our footprints would be there for millennia.
    Pencils were stuck in the ceiling. When would one fall?
    Mr. Verplaz cleared his throat. "Now, I'm not upset, but I'd like to understand why you missed yesterday's session."
    "I...I forgot." I knew at once the shaman would recognize my statement as a lie. He surprised me with nodding acceptance.
    "You are an exceptionally intelligent young man," he said quietly, as if letting me in on a great secret. "Do you know why you're here?"
    "I was in a fight, so Groverly's patriarch ordered me to attend."
    Mr. Verplaz smiled. "Are you angry with Mr. Michaels?"
    "No."
    "Then tell me, what is the real reason you are here?" This was another tool of Homo shaman therapist—a skin bag stuffed with questions.
    "Apparently, the Teacher Tribe is concerned about my behavior."
    "Do you understand why?"
    "They are hired to assimilate me. It's their duty. Even if it is the last week of school."
    "What's your favorite color?"
    It took me a moment to process the question. "Gray."
    "Why?"
    "It's the color of the volcanic sediment surrounding Lucy's remains."
    "Lucy?" He scratched his head, confused. I lost some respect for