You don’t expect me to do that willingly,
Do you?

I would like to thank my dear friends,
Angel O’Hare, Karen Page, Joni W., Annette MacGregor and Holly Logan
for their kindness, help, support, and input.

Education in the Hills
Chapter 18

By Penny Reed Cardon

"Morning, RJ," I cheerfully proclaimed, as we entered the computer lab, the next morning.

"And a very good morning to you, Miss Matilda, and to you too Miss Mary Beth,” RJ jokingly teased by being uncharacteristically formal. “The two of you appear to be in exceptionally good spirits today."

"Okay RJ, what's going on?" I asked.

"Going on? I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he replied with a snicker.

"Yeah, going on. As in, why are you acting like the Maá®tre d' at the Marriot?"

"Well, it's unusual for both of you to come and visit me. And since you both seem to be in such a good mood, I figured the occasion called for something special.

"RJ, you're a little bit crazy, you know? That's probably why we get along so well," I said with a chuckle.

"Takes one to know one," Mary Beth teased.

I threw a 'watch it' smile at Mary Beth as I continued talking with RJ, "Besides, why shouldn't we be in a good mood? It's a beautiful day, the sky is clear, the sun is shining bright; so bright you can get a tan off the snow. There aren't any birds singing, but you can’t expect song-birds to be singing this time of year. And to top it off, Rusty says that we've almost caught up with the rest of the year in our French lessons," I replied cheerfully.

"And I should only need to use this wheelchair for one more week," Mary Beth added cheerfully.

"So tell me, my young friends, to what do I owe the pleasure of having both of you coming to visit me this morning?"

"We came to talk about some secrets," Mary Beth started, half whispering.

One of RJ's eyebrows went up about half an inch.

"More precisely, MayBee and I would like to talk about the Roberts’ family secrets. We also have some questions about a few of Immigration Manor's secrets," I added.

My last statement caused both of RJ's eyebrows to go halfway up his forehead. Mary Beth and I were both laughing at his shocked expression.

"Why RJ, what's the matter? Don't you like talking about secrets?" I asked teasingly.

It only took a moment for RJ to regain his normal, charming, personality. Thoughtfully stroking his beard, he countered, "I have no problem discussing school secrets with you, Matilda; you know most of them already. It's just that the last time you and I discussed such matters I clearly understood that Mary Beth would not be included in any such discussion."

"Oh my goodness RJ, that was days ago. Get with the program," Mary Beth teased.

"Anything I know, MayBee knows." I looked into Mary Beth's eyes and blinked. "Isn't that right?"

"You know it, girl."

"Am I to assume that Mr. Peterson approved of your telling Mary Beth about your little discovery?" RJ inquired.

"He didn't have a choice," Mary Beth replied with a snicker.

"What do you mean?"

"Matilda had some sort of nervous breakdown, or something," Mary Beth blurted out.

"A what? When did this happen?"

"Monday evening before choir practice," she answered for me.

"Matilda, would YOU please explain?" RJ demand.

"Monday I had what Ellen called an obi ... obtu ... no, an obsess ... oh forget it, I had some kind of mental fit, because I had people telling me to do things that contradicted each other. Ellen told me that there were to be no secrets between study partners. I've never been good at telling lies anyway, so I figured not telling lies or keeping secrets would be a good thing. Then I discovered Joshua; that’s when my life was turned upside down. Mr. Peterson told me I would have to keep Joshua a secret from everyone, including MayBee. That was the first secret I had to hide. The problem was, I'd already told her about the no contact rule which I'd found on Joshua. So I had to lie about that, by telling her I found it someplace else. To top it off, Joshua keeps sending me things."

"Joshua does what? What sort of things?"

"Several times a week, I have random displays appearing on my PDA screen, sometimes a Tic - Tack - Toe layout, sometimes a chess board appears. I’ve even had some combat game sequences show up from time to time. I've mentioned it before; you said it was probably just another student playing games with me. When I tracked the data back to its source, I found they were coming from Joshua. I'm curious, who did the original programming of that computer, and why would someone give a computer system that kind of name, and a personality?"

"As far as I know, the system has always had that name, instead of any other designation. All I know about the system's origin is that it was obtained through some dealer in surplus military equipment."

"Humm, well it's a very strange system, different from anything I’ve seen before. Well, getting back to my little problem, one secret led to another, and another, and so on. Then there were lies to cover the secrets, one little lie for this secret, two lies for that secret. I was going crazy trying to keep track of who I'd told what. Monday night everything fell apart and I had a ... there's those words again. The best way for me to describe it, is to say my mind collapsed in on itself, Ellen called it something psychiatric. After Ellen brought me back from where I disappeared, we had a long talk. Boy was she mad when she found out it was Mr. Peterson who’d told me to keep things from MayBee. She called and insisted on seeing him right then. Ellen had me wait in the hall outside Mr. Peterson's office for a while so they could talk alone for a few minutes. I don't know what was said before Ellen let me into the office, but I don't think either of them were happy about it."

"I'll bet they weren't happy. I've never known Ellen to lose her cool, but I bet she came close to it then," RJ seemed almost amused.

"RJ, speaking of Ellen," I thought now was a good time to change the subject, anything to get away from talking about me. "She and I were talking yesterday and she said some things that were confusing and made me start to wonder. Umm, does Ellen know about Joshua?"

RJ was quiet for a while, he appeared to be studying me or possibly going over the consequences of answering my question, before slowly answering, "Yeeees."

"But Mr. Peterson doesn't know that Ellen knows, is that right?" Mary Beth asked.

RJ again hesitated before answering, "I believe that's correct."

"RJ, is Ellen Mr. Peterson's boss?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"From the way she got upset about him telling me to keep secrets from MayBee, the way she insisted that I not keep secrets, and I'm guessing she told him off."

"This time your speculation is, I'm afraid, way off base. Ellen was upset because he broke the rules. Telling you to keep things from Mary Beth is, very much, against school policy, which he knew. Not to mention the fact that you were hurt because of his request. When it comes to the safety of the students, Ellen doesn't back down to anyone. If she thought I'd done something that would endanger a student, in any way, she'd be in here so fast your hair would be flying in the breeze. Now then, do you have any other questions?"

I thought for a moment before asking, "How many students know about Joshua?"

"Matilda, I can't give you that kind of information."

"Oh, I'm not asking who they are, just how many?"

"I'm still not sure you need to know. That kind of information is on a need to know basis and I don't think you need to know."

"RJ, you might as well tell her. If you don't, she'll just do a lot more digging and figure it out by herself," Mary Beth told him.

RJ looked from Mary Beth, to me, to Mary Beth, and back to me before shaking his head, throwing his hands in the air, and in desperation asking, "What am I going to do with you two?"

I giggled for a moment before I replied with my standard answer to that question, "A hug works."

RJ declined, and Mary Beth was still shying away from psychical contact, so alas, there were no hugs to be shared that day, and no answers.

Then it was down to business; after we went through all the data I'd collected, Mary Beth and I explained the plan Ellen and I'd come up with. In the end RJ agreed that my speculation was justified, the data was complete, and corroborated my hypothesis. He had some concerns with our plan, but the three of us worked them out to everyone’s satisfaction. With RJ's recommendations and approval I was ready to talk with Mr. Peterson.

You know, there's a funny thing that happens to your knees when you're nervous, I know because I’ve experienced it. After lunch I left Mary Beth in the capable hands of the Black Sheep as I headed off to see Mr. Peterson. Suddenly my mind started going very fast, in all different directions, each on a different possible reaction that Mr. Peterson could have, or objection he could raise. My mind raced through solutions faster than I'd thought possible. The more solutions I came up with, the more nervous I became; thinking I’d missed a possible objection. And of course, along with being nervous, my knees started turning into rubber.

Somehow I arrived at Mr. Peterson's office and to my surprise, I was a few minutes early. Knocking on the door, I received an invitation to enter. Opening the door, I became instantly terrified.

The office was dark, with the exception of one very small table lamp. It was on the table next to one of the couches. Mr. Peterson was illuminated by the small lamp, leisurely reclining on the couch that was against the wall.

"Welcome, Matilda, please come in, have a seat," he greeted, indicating I should sit on the couch opposite him, which would leave my back towards the darkened room.

Slowly I entered and closed the door. Even though I was wearing a wig, every hair on my head was standing on end. I sensed there was someone else in the room. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. As my survival skills had kicked in, I scanned the room. I discovered why my senses were tingling; there was someone sitting in the high back chair behind Mr. Peterson's desk, trying not to be noticed; darkened room, dark clothing, in a dark chair. I guess they didn’t know that with a single light source in the room there would be a reflection off their eyes.

I guess I was taking too long because Mr. Peterson asked a second time, "Please join me, Matilda."

I almost didn't hear him, my self-preservation klaxon was so loud it was almost deafening. It took all the willpower I had to fight the overwhelming urge I had to touch the button that would turn on the overhead lights. With slow deliberate movements I made my way across to the indicated couch. I was so nervous, I'm sure I forgot to sweep my skirt as I sat down.

"Well Matilda, I understand there's a situation back home you want to discuss, along with a possible solution."

I was very nervous, talking with Mr. Peterson while there was someone hiding in the shadows. "I, I guess you're r … referring to my t … talk with Ellen ... yesterday."

"Yes, Ellen told me some of your feelings concerning your friends, from your previous school. She didn't go into much detail, as she felt you would be more eloquent."

"More what?" I asked. I wasn't thinking clearly, my mind was trying to overcome my urge to hide.

"Eloquent. You would be able to better describe the situation, having firsthand experience."

"Oh, I guess so ... maybe," I nervously replied.

"Please relax, Matilda. I’m not going to bite you. Why don't you start by telling me about this boy you call Black Bart? As I understand it, he's the one that beat up both Mary Beth and your sister, Rachael."

"That's correct. But they aren't the only kids he's attacked. . . ."

I spent about thirty or forty minutes describing the numerous times that Bart, or his one of his henchmen, attacked the kids at Whittier Elementary. Naturally, that led to a discussion as to why I felt that nothing was being done by the local authorities. By then I was much more relaxed, or it could that have been I was so involved in the discussion that I forgot about the mysterious person hiding in the shadows? It was after Mr. Peterson asked about the lack of intervention by the local authorities, that I got out my PDA. Perhaps I was showing off a bit. Instead of either of us moving, I sent the information I wanted Mr. Peterson to review, directly to his PDA. He was slightly alarmed when his PDA's screen returned to full intensity and the first screen of data appeared. I ignored his surprise and directed his attention to the items of interest. So it went for the next half hour or so. I produced one document after another, as I directed the conversation.

I finally finished laying out all the details of the Roberts family inhuman treatment of their fellow man, followed by the describing the plan that Ellen, RJ, Mary Beth and I came up with, as our recommendation of how justice might be served.

It was then that the man from the shadows behind me spoke for the first time. He possessed a very deep commanding voice, causing me to jump and flinch with each word. "That's a very elaborate plan you've proposed, Matilda. Now that you're not personally involved in the situation; that is, you’re no longer attending that school. Could you explain to me why should we be concerned with this Bart character, and why should we get involved?"

"Well ... because, Bart's hurting people, not just Rachael and Mary Beth and me, but lots of other kids as well. Bart seems to take pleasure in making others suffer. His parents don't do anything to stop him; I think they even encourage him. Nobody has done anything to stop him."

"So you're asking us to approve your plan, in order to stop Bart from hurting the other children, in and around your old school. Is that correct?"

"Well ... Yes! If I didn't think this was important, I wouldn't have spent so much time trying to find a way to stop him. ... Well, nobody should be allowed to hurt others ... it's not right. And ... if we don't try to stop them, we're just as bad as they are."

As he continued speaking, Mr. Mysterious came into view, sort of. "So if I understand you correctly, you're saying that if we know of someone who is causing pain and suffering, we have an obligation to try and stop them?" After he finished he sat on one of the wooden chairs, at the very edge of the pool of light, where he could see Mr. Peterson and me, but his face was still mostly hidden in the shadows.

'What? This conversation suddenly made a left turn somewhere. It's running in a completely different direction. I wonder what he's getting at, using the term pain and suffering.'

"I guess so ... I wasn't thinking in such general terms as-"

"And, if we know of someone who is planning to cause pain and suffering on a very large scale, we would be obligated to do whatever we could to stop them. Correct?"

'I think I'm in that tunnel again. The ground is shaking, there's a freight train coming around the corner and it's coming right at me.'

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Would you be willing to help us with such an endeavor?"

'Oh my gosh, how long he's going to drag this out? Maybe I should help speed things up a bit by ... Oh, why not?’

Changing from the timid Munchkin that I'd been, it was time to show the confidence I'd acquired, "Well, to answer your last question I'd like to ask a dozen questions, but I'll settle for two. What are you planning? And, how does it involve me?"

"Gregory is correct about you, you're quick, and you do tend to jump right in."

'I'm not quite sure that was a compliment.'

"Very well, Matilda, I'll get right to the point," Mr. Mysterious continued. "We've already approved your plan to take care of Bart and his parents. You've proven to us that without some intervention by an outside force, the local authorities won't be able to take any action. Unfortunately, the execution of your plan will have to wait until after the first of the year. There is something a little more important that we need to take care of first."

'Here it comes.'

"About six months ago, a French scientist contacted one of our people in Paris."

‘That confirms the reference to the school in France. It is part of the S. P. A.’

"Aren't you being just a little too free with your information?" Mr. Peterson asked.

"Gregory, you did tell me that this is the young lady who found what supposedly couldn't be found? I'm sure she knows about the S. P. A.-"

"-and a couple of other schools and the Alpha teams and so on and so on. So why is the S. P. A. interested in a French scientist?" I interrupted, probably giving out more information than I should have.

'For some reason this guy seem to be pulling Mr. Peterson's strings. I wonder how he's connected with the S. P. A. Better yet, could he be part of Alpha team? I wonder ... not sure but I think I'll keep these thoughts to myself, for now.'

The room was silent, save for the sounds made by the grandfather clock, in the corner.

"Get right to the point, is that it Matilda? Everything up front? All the cards on the table?" Mr. Mysterious asked in return.

‘Is this guy for real? What’s with all the old clichés?’ I replied by shrugging my shoulders.

“Very well, I’ll lay it out for you. He’s more than just a scientist. He’s a weapons designer. To be exact, he's a nuclear weapons designer. He’d rather be a former nuclear weapons designer, but the people he’s been working for won’t let him quit. He knows that if he were to contact the French government for help, they would put him to work for them; which means, he'd be doing the same job, only for a lot less money. For the same reason, he’s afraid of contacting any government. That’s why he contacted us. He feels we would be able to arrange for his retirement, without pressuring him to work for us, at least in his former field of employment.”

“I have three questions; why are you so willing to help him, how are you planning to get him out of France, and does he have a family?”

“Reasonable questions; first, you are correct, there is a small price for our services. You see, he’s designed a new style of nuclear detonators. With it you could create a nuclear bomb that would fit into an average size backpack. Several dozen of these are reportedly being sold on the black market. He has the information that will lead us from the seller, through the middlemen, to the buyers. With this information we hope to prevent them from being used. In answer to your third question, yes, he has a family; a wife and two children both girls, fifteen and eight. As for getting them out of France, we don’t have to worry about that problem. In just over three weeks time they will be vacationing in-“

“- in Quebec!” I interrupted, shaking my head.

“Correct,” Mr. Mysterious confirmed, after a few moments. "The problem we have, is that he won't allow us to arrange for his disappearance until we have confirmed that his children are safely away from the security team that's provided by his employer."

"Wait a second; this is getting just a little complicated. What kind of security team are we talking about? And just how do you plan to get their children away before-"

"Duplicates," he interrupted.

I thought about it for a moment. Suddenly I realized what he'd said. "And I look like the eight year-old?"

"You could be twins," Mr. Peterson answered. "Her name is Shantay."

"She wouldn't have a nickname, would she?" I asked. Putting together some of the puzzle pieces I'd gotten from Joshua.

"As a matter of fact, she does. It's-"

"Sally!" I again interrupted. "She wouldn't be fond of The Wizard of Oz would she?"

"Yes she is. Sally thinks she is a munchkin," Mr. Mysterious confessed. "You've obviously done some unauthorized reading. You wouldn't like to tell me what the plan is, would you?" He was starting to sound a little upset.

"I'm sorry."

"So, the plan is, you and another student will travel to Quebec one day before the rest of the school. We'll substitute the two of you for the two girls. Twenty-four hours later, the rest of the school will be attending the same costume ball as John-Paul, Suzette, and yourselves. You and your companion will change back into your Halloween costumes and rejoin the other students. When the girls are discovered missing, the authorities will naturally be notified. In the confusion, our team will sneak the parents from the company provided security team."

"That sounds pretty easy. I guess I can pretend to be an eight year-old girl for a day," I thought aloud.

"That's what I've been trying to tell Gregory," he replied. "A simple plan."

"Tell her the rest of the story," Mr. Peterson demanded. "That's what has me concerned."

"The rest?" I inquired

"Yes ... well, Sally has a few challenges. I guess the biggest one is that mentally she's only, umm ... two."

"TWO?" I exclaimed.

"Well, maybe two and a half."

"You want me to act like a BABY?"

"Yes … well, you'll have to act like Sally in order for this to work."

"So just how much like a baby is she?"

"Well ... Sally is pretty much out of control. She does whatever she wants and is known to throw tantrums when she doesn't get her way," Mr. Peterson added.

"Oh, this is getting better and better! Not only do you want me to act the part of an eight-year-old that is mentally only two, but I have to be a spoiled brat as well. Do you know for sure that this guy is worth all this trouble?"

"Yes Matilda. You may rest assured, the information we'll get in exchange for helping them, will prevent many thousand people from suffering the effects of a war, radiation, and a long lingering death," Mr. Mysterious said coldly.

"All right, I guess I can play along. Are there any videos of Sally that I can watch, so I can learn how she acts? I guess I'll have to be convincing. Who will know about the switch?" I asked.

"Only their parents will know about the switch. We've arranged for some of their home movies to be copied onto DVD's. They should have been delivered to your room by now. Study them well, you'll need to start practicing right after Thanksgiving."

"Practicing?"

"Yes, you'll have to act like Sally twenty-four hours a day, for the next three weeks. You have to convince the security team that you are Sally. They know the family well; they've been watching them for many years. The videos cover every aspect of Sally's life."

"Not quite!" Mr. Peterson complained, somewhat bitterly.

"What's missing?" I asked.

The room was unusually silent. Mr. Mysterious sat glaring at Mr. Peterson for the longest time.

Finally Mr. Peterson broke the silence, "Lloyd, you're not taking one of my students on this little snatch and grab of yours, unless she knows exactly what she's getting into and what's expected of her. Now are you going to tell her the rest of it, or do I have to?"

"Relax Gregory, I have every intention of giving Matilda all the intelligence we have on Sally. I was just trying to do it slowly; I didn't want to scare her off."

"Scare me off? What else is there? Sally doesn't have a habit of running around naked does she?" I jokingly asked.

"Oh no, nothing like that. She just has a little trouble ... holding her water. It’s really nothing to worry about," he replied.

"A little trouble? Nothing to worry about? Are you sure you don't want to sugarcoat it a little more?" Mr. Peterson exclaimed.

As they were going back and forth I was working out what Mr. Mysterious had said and why Mr. Peterson was upset. I decided he was actually trying to protect me. I jumped up, interrupting their verbal debate. Almost yelling, I demanded, "Let me see if I got this straight; you want me to act like a eight-year-old, who has the brains of a two-year-old, who's an out of control spoiled brat, thinks she's a munchkin, and ... WEARS DIAPERS?"

Mr. Mysterious looked at me as if I'd just made the dumbest statement in the world. "I believe that's what I've said. I don't see why you're yelling — Matilda - where are you -"

I didn't hear a word he said after he confirmed my suspicion. I turned and almost ran out of the office, slamming the door behind me.

* * * To Be Continued * * *

Education in the Hills
Chapter 19
Preview

As the door of Mr. Peterson’s office slammed, I crossed the hall. With only the cold hard wall for support and comfort, it started, uncontrollably. I slowly sank to the floor, a sobbing mass in absolute misery.

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