He struggled to focus his attention on his homework. "If one train leaves Los Angeles traveling at 50 mph and another train leaves New York City traveling at 40 mph..."
He became distracted again, and began to wonder if success as a jazz musician might stand in the way of his scientific career.
The phone rang. "Alan, it's for you," called his mother.
Rising wearily from his desk, Alan trudged to the living room and picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Alan, this is George. I've got a really important question for you."
"What is it?"
"Fern told me you had a weird nightmare about a girl. Who was the girl?"
Alan was taken aback by the question. It had been a traumatic, highly personal experience, yet here was a boy who wanted him to reveal its most intimate detail...over the phone.
Everybody probably knows already, he thought.
"Fern," he told George.
"Yeah," George replied, "Fern told me you had a weird nightmare."
"Yes, I know. Fern was the girl. I was the girl. I was Fern."
Alan heard a few seconds of silence.
"I suspected as much," came George's voice.
"What's this all about?" asked Alan.
----
The following morning, Fern was making her way to Mr. Wald's room when she ran into Alan in the center court. The boy seemed to become frightened when he saw her.
"Uh...hi, Fern," he said nervously. "Look, I'm really sorry for hurting your feelings the other night, and if you'd like, I'll make it up to you by treating you to a sundae at the Sugar Bowl."
A bright smile spread over Fern's face. She felt her heart leaping for joy. Then she became suspicious. "Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?" she asked.
Alan's anxiety increased. "Uh, well, I know you like me, and I sorta like you too, and the kiss at the concert turned out to be no big thing..."
Fern smiled again. "Sure. Thanks, Alan."
Telling herself that Alan's erratic behavior was normal and natural for a fifth-grader in love, Fern continued on her way. She soon happened upon another of her good friends. "Hey, Sue Ellen," she called.
Sue Ellen turned around and gasped with fright when she saw Fern.
"What's the matter?" Fern asked her.
"Uh, nothing," Sue Ellen replied, smiling insincerely. "You just surprised me."
Fern walked away, marveling that the usually fearless Sue Ellen would be frightened by someone merely walking up to her.
When she arrived in the classroom, the kids who were present, including Arthur, Francine, Binky, and George, gave her fearful looks. She sensed them secretly whispering to each other as she seated herself at a desk.
So it continued for the better part of the school day. No matter where Fern went, her friends and fellow students regarded her with trepidation. Some of them were considerably nicer to her than normal.
"When I called you a mouse back in third grade," Francine said to her, "I meant it in the best possible way."
"That's nice to know," Fern responded. The two girls were enjoying themselves on the seesaw during afternoon recess.
It was soon time to return to class, and Fern entered the school building to find Van waiting for her. "Hey, Fern, can I talk to you?" asked the duck boy, swiveling his wheelchair to face her.
"Sure, Van," Fern replied.
Van spoke in a hushed tone. "There's a rumor going around about you. Maybe you're aware of it."
"No, I'm not."
"Some kids are saying you have mystical powers," Van told her. "Some other kids think you're a ghost. Now I know you're not, because..."
Fern became indignant. "That's silly. Everybody knows there's no such thing as ghosts." Then a thought occurred to her. "Everybody except...George..."
Van watched as Fern marched away. Oh, I think someone's gonna get hurt, he thought.
When she arrived at Mr. Wald's room, she found that all the other pupils were seated at their desks, including George. "George, I want to talk to you," she proclaimed loudly. The teacher looked up from his papers, distracted by the outburst.
"Uh, sure, Fern," said George in a worried voice.
"Would you mind telling me why the kids think I'm a ghost?" she demanded.
George began to tremble. Then he slowly stiffened his resolve. Picking up two sheets of paper from the top of his desk, he stood and approached Fern with halting steps.
"Who are you," he asked firmly, "and what have you done with Fern Walters?"
Fern narrowed her eyes angrily.
"Take a look at this," George went on. He held out the two sheets of paper, one in each hand. "Exhibit A. The note that was left in Trixie Tibble's hotel room. Exhibit B. The list you wrote yesterday. Do you see a pattern?"
As Fern looked back and forth between the two papers, she indeed recognized a similarity. Her jaw dropped in shock.
The handwriting was identical!
Stunned, Fern took a step backwards. "No...it's not possible! I didn't write that! I've never been to that hotel!"
George walked closer to Fern. "It all makes sense now," he said with assurance. "You don't like the Tibble twins' mother. You think you could do a better job of raising them. It was you who scared her away from her house. It was you who left the note at the hotel."
"That's a lie!" Fern shouted. Mr. Wald debated whether to silence the two children, or to wait and see where their exchange was headed.
By this time George was face to face with Fern, staring into her eyes fearlessly. "It was you who caused the breakdowns that made the Wynton Marsalis Quintet late for the concert," he claimed boldly. "You wanted a chance to sing in front of thousands of people and become a star."
Barely containing her outrage, Fern grabbed George by the antlers and pulled his face closer to hers. "Now you listen to me, George. I'm going to say this slowly so you'll understand. There's. No. Such. Thing. As. Ghosts."
She released his antlers, and the moose boy went on with his accusations as if nothing had happened. "You invaded Alan's dreams. You wanted to get back at him for getting mad at you when you kissed him."
Fern clenched her fists. "Shut up, George! I'm warning you!"
"And you were angry at Mr. Crosswire because of how he treated Muffy, so you wrecked the cars in his lot."
"SHUT...UP!" shrieked Fern.
Before George had a chance to speak again, he felt something lifting him up by the collar of his shirt. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, as many a bully had given him such a treatment. What made this occasion unusual was that nobody was there.
"Huh? What...what's happening?" stammered George as he felt his feet rise up from the floor.
Fern screamed and backed away. It appeared that an invisible hand had grasped the front of George's shirt, and was lifting him into the air. The other kids gasped and cried out in horror, while Mr. Wald jumped to his feet and gaped.
When George had been levitated halfway to the ceiling, his head suddenly jerked to the left. The boy grimaced and wailed in pain. Then his head jerked to the right. To the left. To the right. All eyes were fixed on him as the unseen force struck him repeatedly and forcefully on the cheeks.
"It's Fern!" cried Francine. "She's killing George!"
Fern, rooted to the spot by fright, could only squeak, "It's not me...I'm not doing this..."
Mr. Wald sprang into action, trying to grab George and pull him to the floor, but the boy floated away from his grasp. George's head stopped jerking from side to side, but he was now bouncing from one wall to another, each impact knocking the wind out of him. The teacher tried in vain to catch him, as the transfixed students followed his motions as if they were watching a tennis match.
"Stop!" Fern cried out. "I command you to stop!"
As soon as she had spoken, George plummeted toward the floor and landed in a bruised heap. Groaning, he pushed himself into a sitting position, brushed the dirt from his clothes, and reached for his right antler, which had broken off from the impact.
The kids and the teacher looked back and forth between George and Fern, not knowing what to believe or even if what they had just witnessed was real.
Fern burst into terrified sobs. "I didn't do it...it wasn't me..."
(To be continued...)
