“How old are you, five or si - ix?"
There was a collected gasp from the audience, and I think I heard Ellen and perhaps Mr. Peterson call out my name.
"Ouch!"

"I'm ten!" I stated gruffly, as I withdrew my foot.

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

Education in the Hills
Chapter 20

By Penny Reed Cardon

---

 
D Day - Minus Eighteen:
 
 
'Oh shoot, I forgot to change my alarm. Oh well, I’m awake now. I might as well get showered and dressed. At least I don't have to worry about waking MayBee too early.'

"Morning Munchkin, Happy Thanksgiving," Mary Beth greeted as she came into my room sometime later, elastic bandages in hand.

"Happy Thanksgiving, MayBee."

"You're up kind of early. What are you working on?"

"I'm just reviewing the DVDs that were left for me. The way Mr. Peterson described her, Sally is supposed to be some kind of child-sized monster. So far, I haven't seen anything like that. She's more active, energetic and bouncy than I would have expected. Because of her size, she's harder to control than your average two-year-old, but not what I'd call a monster."

"Maybe Mr. Peterson doesn't have any kids," Mary Beth offered.

"I guess that's possible, but he should remember something about what it was like when he was a kid, shouldn't he?"

"Maybe … he never was one," she teased, resulting in a round of laughter from both of us. After we finished giggling and I'd wrapped Mary Beth's abdomen, she went to finish getting ready.

At our usual time, five minutes late, we met the rest of the year before going over for breakfast.

“Good morning, everyone,” Mary Beth called out cheerfully, as we entered the lounge.

“Morning,” was chorused back.

After we were settled, Jenny went over the day’s schedule; which didn’t take very long. We had about five minutes before we should leave for breakfast; that is if we wanted to be on time. That’s when Misa and Morgan came over to where we were sitting.

“Matilda, there’s something I’ve been waiting to ask you,” Misa started.

“Well, we’ve got a few minutes, what’s on your mind?” I asked.

“The other day, in the hall outside Mr. Peterson’s office, you called Mrs. Covington, Mommy. Is she your mother?”

‘There’s never a pin around when you need one. Oh well, with the carpet on the floor you wouldn’t hear it hit anyway.’

“Yes, Misa, Mrs. Covington is my mother, although it feels funny, me calling my own mother by her last name.”

“But your last name is McNeil, isn’t it?” asked Tony, the year’s legal expert.

“Actually … No,” I replied sadly. Everyone waited for me to continue.

‘Come on you guys, there’s nothing more interesting around here than me? We need to create more excitement around here!’

“Covington is my dad’s name.” I felt tears trying to break loose as I remembered back. I also felt Mary Beth’s arm wrap around my shoulder. “After what he did … well, after that night, I didn’t want his name any more. When I tried to … when I was being stupid and I wrote my … suicide note. I didn’t want his name, so I changed my name. When my mom figured out that I was … well … the way I am, she told me that I would have been named Matilda, if I’d been born a girl. For my middle and last names, those I took after the two people who loved me the most, my sister Rachael and mom. McNeil is mom’s maiden name. That’s how I came up with Matilda Rachael McNeil.”

“So that’s not your real name?” Wally asked sheepishly.

“Of course it is!” Jenny said emphatically.

“And when she’s eighteen we’ll process all the paperwork to make it legal,” Tony added.

“So, do you get to see your mom very much?” Niki asked almost jealously.

‘I couldn’t tell them that I’m not supposed to see her at all. That would start a new set of questions, most of which I can’t or don't want to answer. How to answer without telling a lie? Stupid, just tell the truth.’

“No, I don’t. You know how busy we’ve been, with learning French, double choir practices, working on the computer interface for Rachael, and everything else that’s been going on. Not to mention that Mom’s busy helping with the older students. In fact, the other day in the hall, is about the only time I’ve seen her since we came here.”

“Oh,” Niki replied, almost sadly.

I wasn’t sure if she was sad for me, or for herself. At the time it didn’t matter, I felt like she needed a hug, so did I. Just because we aren’t study partners doesn’t mean we can’t help each other. We hugged for a few moments before Aaron started coughing.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but we’re late for breakfast, again.”

“Yeah, if I don’t get some food soon, I’m going to shrivel up and blow away,” Howard complained.

“Oh, Howard, you’ll survive another ten minutes,” Vikk assured him, as everyone chuckled and headed for the door.

Being Thanksgiving morning, the normal breakfast selections weren't available. The only breakfast options were cold cereal, with milk or OJ, along with a selection of fresh fruit and muffins. I opted for some fruit and a muffin. Personally, I’ve never liked OJ on my cereal.

At the appointed hour of three PM, late for lunch, but early for dinner, the whole school lined up outside the cafeteria. The line moved rather slowly. The Thanksgiving buffet was just as Mr. Peterson had described. Several large banquet tables had been set up in the halls outside the dining room, with extra tables set up inside the dining room.

After Mary Beth and I filled our plates, we were walking towards a small gathering of Black Sheep, when I noticed a small table with only four seats; two of which were occupied by Kimberly and Angel. Being that there didn’t appear to be any organized pattern to where anyone was sitting, I surprised Mary Beth by stopping suddenly and asked, "Mind if we sit here?"

"I was hoping you would," Kimberley replied with a smile.

Once we were seated, Kimberley began what I thought was an unusual conversation, although not entirely unexpected, "Matilda, I understand you had a nice long talk with Mr. Peterson yesterday."

"With Mr. Peterson and assorted guests, is more like it. It was a lengthy visit, but I'm not sure I'd call it a nice talk," I corrected.

Kimberley and Angel seemed confused by my response. Kimberley shook it off and continued, "I don't know anything about the details, but I'm told you did agree to their request."

With a deep sigh I answered, "Yes … I guess I did. But is this something we should be talking about here?"

"What? Are you telling me that Mary Beth doesn't know?" Kimberley whispered.

"That's not what I'm saying, MayBee knows everything I know, as I'm sure Angel knows everything you've been told," I calmly replied.

"So what's the problem?"

"I was just thinking that there might be someone else concerned about us discussing this subject so openly. Perhaps there’s someone who wouldn’t want the whole school to know what we're talking about. This is, after all, a very public place."

Before anyone had a chance to respond Mr. Peterson stood up. "Welcome, one and all. Now that everyone is seated, I have a couple of announcements. First off, I was given a note from our kitchen staff. They wanted me to assure you, there's enough food for everyone to enjoy as much as you wish. Also, they'd be grateful if there were no leftovers. Being that this is one of the few days we allow you to, pig out, I believe is the expression; I suggest you take advantage of it.

"Second, as a reminder, next week all classes have been canceled, with the exception of choir, orchestra, and any other special classes. That's when we’ll convert our ballroom into our toy factory. As most of you remember, last year we had to quickly produce an additional quantity of toys at the last minute. To avoid a repeat of that this year and to assure that all the hospitalized children receive something special, it was felt that this year we should produce one-hundred-fifty of each item. However, according to our expert mathematicians, from year A, and being that we'll be out of the country when our gifts are being distributed; it was calculated that in order to prevent any shortages this year we should produce two-hundred of each of our special toys this year."

There were some scoffs and groans from a few of those assembled. This was mixed with just as many positive comments, reminding the 'moaners' who the gifts were for.

The room quickly came to order when Mr. Peterson raised his hands. "While I don't personally agree with the quantity of the recommendation, the rest of the organizing committee does. So two hundred of everything is what it will be. Next item. We're going to jump ahead of tradition by one day and our school Christmas tree will be going up this evening. For anyone wishing to help, or for those who want to just watch as the lights go on; you should be here at seven this evening.

“One last announcement, one of the school’s alumni has arranged for a special treat. Tomorrow, just after lunch, we will be boarding the busses and we’ll be going to a special, command performance by hypnotist Jens Mortensen. This will be his farewell performance, as he's retiring from show business. After our performance he'll be returning to his native country, Denmark, to spend time with his children, grandchildren, and do some teaching with the European Society of Hypnosis."

Mary Beth reached over and touched my hand, just to get my attention. She was confirming what we both knew.

"We'll be stopping for dinner along the way at a quaint little restaurant. It's kind of a small place and our little group will almost fill their establishment. I don't think I need to remind you how to act. Dinner and the show will be semi-formal, so please dress appropriately. Thank you all. Happy Thanksgiving and enjoy your meal."

Mary Beth said quietly, "I guess that means they don't want the whole school to know."

"It also means I'll have to embarrass myself," I moaned.

"What are you talking about?" Angel asked, in a whisper. "Why would you have to embarrass yourself?"

"I guess you two don't quite know everything about the operation we've been asked to help with. Can both of you come to my room after dinner for a private mission briefing?" I asked.

Kimberley sarcastically questioned me, "Mission briefing?"

"Sorry, too many Mission Impossible reruns."

"I think you're the one that's impossible," Angel snickered.

"Never under establishment the Munchkin." Mary Beth smiled. "She may be a little crazy, but she's almost always right."

"Never under establishment the Munchkin?” I repeated with a grimace. “Where on earth did that come from?"

"I just made it up," she beamed.

"You just made it up? Well un-make it. Good grief, that sounds really … corny," I moaned.

"It sounds to me as if someone is proud of you," Kimberley said.

"Or maybe in love," Angel whispered.

"Don't even think it," Mary Beth grumbled, looking at me accusingly.

"I didn't say anything," pleaded innocence.

"Well then figure out how to keep your eyes from sparkling!."

I was smiling as I shook my head and looked at my plate. Kimberley and Angel were giggling.

The rest of our time was filled with good conversation and good food, but without any more excitement or revelations.

A little while later, the four of us gathered in my room. Kimberley and Angel knew the basics of Mr. Black's plan; they just didn't know the details concerning Sally. So, I showed them the DVDs I'd been given. I then informed them that Mr. Black felt I needed to start practicing as soon as possible.

"Practicing?" Angel wondered. "What sort of practicing does he think you need?"

"Well … I guess I missed telling you the part about the security team that watches over the family. I have to convince them that I am Sally. If they aren't convinced or if they suspect something is wrong, we're busted."

"Hmm … I guess that means I have to be just as convincing as Arabelle. I'd better watch those DVDs a couple of times before we leave," Kimberley muttered.

"Oh, you'll get lots of time to practice before you leave, believe me. You're going to be taking care of the Munchkin for the next couple of weeks," Mary Beth volunteered.

"What are you talking about?" Angel asked.

"There's something that's not on the DVDs, Sally wears … " I started, then paused, unable to finish the sentence.

"Sally wears diapers," Mary Beth volunteered for me.

"Yeah, I knew that,” Kimberley said. “So for a day or two I play the big sister, what’s the big deal? ... Hold on a second. Are you saying that you have to practice every aspect of Sally's life for the next couple of weeks, including ... -?"

"That's right," Mary Beth interrupted. "For the next two weeks you've got an eight-year-old baby on your hands."

“Thanks, Vera,” I grumbled.

"Hold it right there! I signed up for a two day babysitting job, not a two week diaper pail ordeal."

"DO YOU THINK I LIKE THIS?" I yelled as I jumped to my feet. "I hate the thought of wearing diapers, of having someone, anyone, changing them. I don't want anyone to see me like that.” Mary Beth snaked her arms around my waist, pulling me back onto the bed. Just having her arm around me helped calm me down. “But, I said I'd help, and I never go back on my word. I just hope that in the time we have, I'll be comfortable enough with you changing my diapers, that I won't make a spectacle of myself or give us away."

"So what's with this hypnotist?" Angel asked, tactfully breaking the silence that had descended upon the room after my outburst and changing the subject at the same time. "They've never taken us to anything like that before."

"The Munchkin needs to be part of the hypnotist's act," Mary Beth volunteered, quietly. "So there'll be a reason for her acting like a baby. Mr. Black doesn't want to tell whole school about the S. P. A, so this is the cover story they came up with."

"How do know about Mr. Black and the S. P. A?” Kimberley asked, looking startled.

"Mr. Black is the one who asked Matilda to be Sally. As for knowing about the S. P. A. … blame her," Mary Beth answered, looking at me.

"You mean the hypnotist is going to put her into some kind of trance?" Angel wondered aloud.

"Not quite. It’s like Maybee said, that’s just a story to explain why I'll be acting like Sally. I think it will actually go something like; ' … that because of what we believe to be an improperly spoken command, Matilda believes she has been cursed by a Wicked Witch. All of our attempts to bring Matilda out of this have failed and we haven't been able to locate Mr. Mortensen. According to the curse she will act in all ways, as if she were a baby Munchkin of about two years of age. Unfortunately, she will remain this way until she's released from the curse by the Wizard of Oz. Fortunately the costume party in Quebec is a Wizard of Oz party, and there should be at least one Wizard in attendance’.”

I let them think about that for a moment before I continued. “When we’re at the hypnotist show, and they ask for volunteers from the audience, you need to get a bunch of students to start chanting Munchkin, Munchkin. Then I'll have to go up. After I've been acting like Sally for a while, they will ask for volunteers to assist with my long term care, and day to day needs. Of course, the two of you will volunteer to take care of me. The four of us will be moved to the big four-room suite on the top floor of the administration building."

"I didn't know there's a four room suite up there.” Angel commented. “Matilda, what else do you know about this school?"

"Believe me, more than I should. And, being that you aren't my study partner, I'm not telling you anything I don’t have to."

"Look, we've been at this for a couple of hours now," Kimberley interrupted, before any other questions could be raised. "I think it's time to call it quits for today. They'll be putting lights on the tree in about an hour. Are you two going?"

Mary Beth suggested, "We should see what the rest of the Black Sheep are planning."

“Have they talked about forming any traditions yet?” Angel inquired.

“We’ve talked about Christmas traditions a little bit. Mostly we’ve talked about the traditions we have at home. I mean, before coming here,” Mary Beth said with a sigh.

I knew she was feeling a little homesick again; her family had lots of Christmas traditions. I tried to pull her a little closer.

“Don’t do that. You’re the cause of all this,” she complained.

“She’s the cause of what?” Kimberley asked.

“She’s the cause of, of … of us knowing too much,” she replied in a huff, turning away.

“Matilda, what’s she talking about?” Angel asked.

“Well, umm, let’s just say that ... oh geeze ... I really can’t talk about it, but she’s right. Most of the trouble we get into is my fault,” I answered cryptically.

They both looked at us strangely. It was if they knew everything we weren't saying, but nobody would admit to knowing anything.

"All right then, you two work this out and we'll see you later," Kimberley said, breaking the silence.

We agreed to meet again the next day, before lunch, after which they left us to go meet up with the rest of year A, or to think about our future.

After a little more discussion, Mary Beth and I went down to the lounge. As a group we decided to go watch the tree lighting process, none of us having seen it before. Before going to the cafeteria, everyone went to their rooms to retrieve their Christmas Ornaments. We figured if the school could put the tree up a day early, we could put our ornaments on a day early. As it turned out, we were the only year to have come up with the idea of hanging their ornaments a day early. Although, once the other students, watching the tree lighting, saw us with our ornaments the word spread quickly. Before all the lights were on the tree the entire student body was there with ornaments in hand.

By the way, it was Elders Bennett and Johnson who were putting the lights on the tree, under the direction of Miss Baker. Later, I was informed that they rotate through the different religions represented at the school for the honor of putting the lights on the tree. After the lights were all in place, Elder Bennett secured a large lighted star a top the tree. As the trio were leaving I heard Elder Johnson commenting, “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could draw a crowd like this on Sunday mornings?”

When it was just the students in the cafeteria, Suzanne and Edward come over to where all of the Black Sheep were standing. “Jenny, Aaron,” Suzy started. “It appears that putting our ornaments on the tree now, was an idea from someone in year A, being that you were the first to arrive with your ornaments. To acknowledge your contribution to the school we think, that is the rest of the school, we think year A should have the honor of being the first to put your ornaments on the tree.”

Thus, year A was responsible for the birth of a new tradition at Immigration Manor. That year and every year thereafter, the entire school was present for what became known as the tree lighting ceremony. Starting with year A, each year would take turns placing their ornaments on the tree, with the rest of the school in attendance. After all the ornaments were on the tree, someone would start singing Christmas carols, with everyone joining in. Usually we sang late into the night, although no one ever said anything about being out of our rooms after curfew, even though we usually were.

D Day - minus seventeen

The next morning, I realized that we'd double booked our morning. We were supposed to meet with Kimberley and Angel during the time we usually see Rachael, and I needed to talk with Rachael. I quickly sent a note to Ellen, asking if she could excuse us from our French class, and why. It wasn't until we'd almost finished breakfast that she responded, telling us that our request had been approved.

“Hi. Rachael,” I greeted as we entered her room.

“Well … Hi? What are you two doing here? I mean, this isn’t when you usually come see me, what’s up?”

“What, are we only allowed to see you at a particular time each day?” Mary Beth asked.

“No, you can come see me any time you want. This is just a surprise, that’s all.”

“Well, to be honest Sis, there is a reason for this unscheduled visit,” I added. After a few seconds of silence I continued, “Something’s come up and I won’t be coming to see you for a while.”

“What did you do this time?”

“Oh, no, I didn’t do anything wrong, at least not this time,” I assured her.

“So what’s going on?

Mary Beth didn’t help me this time, other than offer some moral support. She stood behind me, rubbing my shoulders.

I started out slowly, “You know we’ve haven’t kept secrets from each other, at least not since, well, you know.” Rachael giggled at my reference and embarrassment, as I refreshed both our memories of my panty snatching days.

“Well, I have a confession to make. There are one or two things about Immigration Manor that I haven’t told you."

"Like what?"

"Actually there are lots of things I haven't told you, and I really can’t tell you about them, so please don’t ask-"

"What do you mean, what haven't you tol … "

Mary Beth interrupted. I don't know if she was trying to help me or trying to save Rachael's childhood and protect her innocence, "Believe me, Rachael, you don't want to know. The only reason I know is because I'm Matilda's study partner, and there's no secrets between study partners."

Rachael thought about what Mary Beth had said before asking, "So, tell me, why are you here?"

I hesitated for a while, not knowing exactly how to say it. Finally I just blurted it out, "I’ve been asked to help a family defect from France to the US.”

“WHAT? … You’re joking right? … This is all some kind of prank you’re pulling on me?”

Neither of us answered any of Rachael’s questions. We didn’t have to; she read our faces and knew that this wasn’t a joke.

“But, you can't, I mean, you’re just a kid. We’re all just kids. We don’t do stuff like that, I mean kids don't. This is nuts!"

"You're right about it being nutty, but it's true nonetheless," I sadly replied.

"But, why you? Why would someone ask you? Does this have something to do with all the stuff you did to the computers? That's it, you did something really wrong, and they're sending you off somewhere to get rid of you?”

“No," I giggled. “For once, this has nothing to do with computers, and nothing to do with anything I've done. It has to do with me looking like a girl named Sally."

"Or is it that she looks like you?" Mary Beth asked smugly.

"Well, I was born first, so I guess she looks like me … poor kid."

"So, just what do you have to do?" Rachael wanted to know.

"Not much, I just have to take her place for a day so that some people we know can sneak Sally and her sister away from a security team that watches their family. I really can’t tell you any more than that, and I probably shouldn't have told you that much."

"Okay, so you look like a French girl and you're going to take her place for a day. I still think the whole plan is nutty as a fruitcake. Won't her parents notice the difference?"

"They're in on it," I replied simply.

"But you don't speak French!"

"Vous vous trompez ma chá¨re soeur. Je parle trá¨s bien français," I replied with a smile.

"What?"

"She said, 'You are mistaken, my dear sister. I speak French very well’," Mary Beth translated.

"You too?"

We both smiled and nodded.

"But how, when-"

"A month, with a special tutor, will do wonders." I answered Rachael's question, before she finished asking it.

"That, and using it all day, every day," Mary Beth added.

"What do you mean? When? How?"

"Rachael, the time we spend visiting with you is the only time we're allowed to use English. The rest of the time we use French, at least for the last two weeks. The rest of the school has been using nothing but French since Halloween. Even our PDA's and computers display in French," I explained, further.

"You know … I hate these casts. I can't even cross my arms when I want to pout.” Rachael thought for a few moments before she continued. “Okay, so you look like a French girl, you sound like a French girl, and you're going to im-m … "

"Imitate?" Mary Beth asked.

"No, that's not the word I'm looking for."

"Impersonate?" I volunteered.

"That's it, impersonate. You're going to impersonate this French girl, and you really think that nobody is going to notice a difference?"

"That's the plan, they certainly hope I can pull it off," I calmly admitted.

"Okay, okay. You do know the whole plan is crazy, don't you? That's probably why they asked you to do it, because you're crazy, too. But there's one thing you haven't told me - why the special visit?"

"We just came see you now because … well … there's something else we need to do when we usually visit with you. Also, I couldn’t just disappear for three weeks without letting you know first.”

“Three weeks? What do you mean three weeks? You’re telling me you're not going to be here? I’m going to be stuck here, alone, for three weeks?”

“Of course not, Mom still comes to see you, doesn't she? Mary Beth will still be coming over, and she can arrange for the Black Sheep to come over to keep you entertained.”

“Oh great, that's all I need. I’ll be heckled by Statler and Waldorf, times nine!”

“Oh come now, they’re not that bad,” Mary Beth argued.

After giving it some thought, Rachael finally agreed, “You’re right; they're not that bad … they're worse. But I will admit one thing … they are entertaining.”

Once Rachael realized she wouldn't be all alone while I would be practicing to be Sally, the three of us enjoyed just being together. We were the three Musketeers again, planning what we’d do once Rachael was out of traction.

All too soon it was time to leave. We had to get back for our meeting with Kimberley and Angel.

“Um, Rachael, before we leave, we need you to promise something. You see, we’ve kind of involved you in a major secret and you can't tell anyone, not Mom, and especially not the Black Sheep,” I confessed, as we were about to leave.

“You have? A Secret? Cool! What secret?”

“Well, about me helping that French family. You can’t tell anyone what we’ve told you. The rest of the school doesn’t know the real story."

"Why not?"

"That's hard to explain; but, they’ll be told another story to explain why I’m acting strange.”

“You didn’t say anything about acting strange.”

“The girl that she looks like, has a little problem," Mary Beth offered. "Mentally she’s only two,”

“Two? You have to act like you're TWO?" she laughed. "This could be fun; I've always wanted a little sister. So just because you're going to be a baby doesn't mean you can't come see me. Wait, a baby? Does the French girl wear? I mean, are you going to have to -?“ Rachael didn’t finish her question, she didn’t have to. The look on my face filled in all the answers. She was one of the few people who knew what that meant to me. “Oh Matilda! Darn these casts. Come here sis, I need to give you a hug.”

I climbed into Rachael’s bed, almost squishing her, and put my arms around her as she did the best she could at giving me, her big little sister, a hug. Of course there were tears involved, on both sides. Mary Beth finally had to interrupt, and all but dragged me from Rachael’s rigid arms.

We had a hard time explaining to Kimberley and Angel why my face and eyes were so red. It’s a good thing we didn’t run into Jenny between the hospital and our rooms, or anyone else, for that matter.

We went over the DVDs again, making a list of the unique character traits of both girls. Sort of a game plan of what we needed to do, what we needed know, and how we needed to act for the next two and a half weeks. Then Mary Beth and I went to lunch, with the Black Sheep.

After lunch, years A, B, and C were given time to change out of our school uniforms and into what was recommend as semi-formal, pretty much what we used to call our 'Sunday go to Meeting Clothes'. After changing clothes, we went back to the lounge, with the rest of the year. There I discovered there is a timely ritual that takes place each time anyone leaves the school grounds. Aaron checked in everyone’s school PDA, issuing them what was known as a travel PDA. Years D and up had changed their clothes before they went to lunch, and I assume they changed PDAs as well.

At the appointed time, we found four commercial busses waiting in the main parking lot, from four different charter companies. At the time I wondered if they were really from the charter companies, or were they just painted that way. Remembering what we'd learned from Beca, Lizzy, Ellen, and RJ about the security measures for the school, I suspected the busses were owned by the school and painted different for security reasons.

"All right everyone," Mr. Peterson called out, once everyone arrived. "We'll do this the same as before, two years on each bus, along with their chaperones. But just for a little variety, let's mix it up a bit. Let's have years A and E on the first bus, B and F on the second, C and G on the third, and finally D and H on the fourth. Everyone, enjoy your trip, and we'll see you at dinner."

Being that I was still thinking about what I'd agreed to do, I was, understandably somewhat somber as we boarded our assigned bus. I quickly took a window seat, near the rear. I hoped that I could get away without talking to anyone, except Mary Beth of course. My plan worked out pretty well, for the most part.

Our bus, being the first in line, was the first to pull out. As we were cresting the hill, leaving the valley the school is nestled in, I noticed that none of the other busses had moved. My curiosity got the better of me and I started playing with my PDA. It didn't take long to discover that I still had access to almost all of the school systems, although the data transfer speed was much slower. It took some digging, but I found what I'd been looking for - 'Travel Policies' and 'Equipment Specifications'. It should make for some interesting reading, when I don't have other things on my mind.

"You're too quiet, what you working on? Something you're going to get in trouble for?" Mary Beth quietly asked.

"I don't think I'll get in trouble-"

"You never think you'll get into trouble," she interrupted. "Or is it that you just never think?" she teased.

"I’m always thinking, dear friend. It's just that I never try to get into trouble. He just likes to follow me around and jump on me when I'm not expecting it. Actually, I wonder if trouble is a she instead of a he. Anyway, right now I'm looking at some information about security. With security systems as my specialty, I should be okay."

"Maybe ... but just to be safe, you might want to ask someone."

"Humm, good idea. I’m glad I thought of it."

"What?"

"Just kidding. Thanks for the suggestion, MayBee. Who do you think I should ask, Mr. Peterson, Mr. Black, Ellen, or RJ?"

"I think I'd ask RJ. You told me we can trust him," she whispered. "I don't think security is Ellen's department. The way the other two treated you, the other day; I don't think I'd trust either of them."

"RJ it is," I agreed, as I opened a note page.

RJ
I was wondering about security measures
for when the school is traveling. I was looking
at some data on one of the servers.
MayBee reminded me that I should ask first.
So, who should I ask?
Matilda

It didn't take RJ long to reply, although his reply wasn't what I expected.

Matilda
Thank you for asking.
Knowing what you're capable of and your
natural instincts, this will be hard for you.
But, I must ask that you restrain you natural
curiosity and not dig into those areas at this
time.
We can review that information when you
return.
Thanks
RJ

Well, I don't mind saying that I was more than a little disappointed, but I did as RJ asked and quietly put away my PDA.

After traveling for about an hour, I started to feel the unmistakable sound of Mother Nature calling my name. I tried to ignore her, but you know how persistent Mother Nature can be. Finally giving in, I made my way to the facility at the rear of the bus. If you've never had the privilege of using the facility in the back of a bouncing bus before, I wouldn't recommend it. If you don't have a choice, I feel sorry for you.

After returning to my seat, Mary Beth took a turn using the limited facilities. That’s when an unexpected problem took hold of me, literally.

I was looking out the window, minding my own business, when someone sat down next to me. I assumed it was Mary Beth returning from the restroom; that is until someone took my hand and I knew it wasn't Mary Beth. "Hello, Jenny, what are you doing here?” I said before turning to look at her, while trying to retrieve my hand.

"I am here to find out what is wrong," she replied calmly.

"Wrong? What do you mean? There's nothing wrong," I professed.

"Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself? Everyone in our year has noticed how moody and upset you have been the last few days. Everyone is worried and concerned about you. There has even been a discussion about imposing an unofficial suicide watch, for your protection," she told me as she closed her eyes.

As it usually happened, Jenny's magical touch took most of the fight out of me the moment she took my hand. I was calm and at peace. I knew I'd made the right decision about helping Sally and her family. At that moment I no longer feared what was to come. I just hoped I did a good job of blocking my other thoughts from Jenny.

A moment later Jenny let go of my hand and opened her eyes. Her eyes were glazed over like she was in a hypnotic trance. Very quietly, almost inaudible, she spoke, "I sense a great conflict growing within you, Matilda. You are afraid of your future, afraid of your ability to do what has been asked of you. You are not alone; there are many who will -"

"Hi Jenny," interrupted Mary Beth as she came back from the restroom. "What's going on?"

Jenny blinked, smiled, and turned towards Mary Beth. "Hello, MayBee. I was just telling Matilda how concerned the others are about her."

"Oh, really?" Mary Beth replied, a little sarcastically.

"Yes. It has been noticed by almost everyone that she is not acting like her normal happy self. We are wondering if there is anything we can do to help?"

"You know, now that you mention it, it has been several days since I've heard her laugh. I've heard that if you keep the laughter inside, and don't let it out, you can do some serious bodily damage." Mary Beth started a little sarcastic teasing.

"Really?" Jenny asked suspiciously.

"Oh yes," Mary Beth was laying it on pretty thick. "Lack of laughter can be very serious. It can lead to a loss of appetite, mood swings, depression, and it can cause you to not sleep well.

'All of which I am suffering from, but for reasons I can't discuss openly.'

"If left untreated, keeping laughter inside can cause the laughing gases to build until you start to swell up like a balloon."

"This sounds like a serious condition." Jenny was definitely playing along and was starting to smile. "Is there a cure for this condition?"

'I'll have to take care of MayBee later. Right now I'm in trouble, there's no place to run.'

"Well, about twenty seconds per day, devoid of laughter is usually what’s recommended. So about a minute of solid laughter should do the trick"

"Is there a particular procedure involved to achieve the level of laughter required?" Jenny was really starting to enjoy my captive predicament.

"Actually there is," Mary Beth went on to explain. "It’s most effective if you start at the feet and work your way up. That way all of the unspent laughter is worked out."

'You're going to pay for this, I don't know how but … '

"Hhhhhaaaaaaaa," I screamed out, as several hands came over the back of my seat, holding me in place.

Both Mary Beth and Jenny pounced on me, tickling from my ankles upward. I tried the good old standby of 'Stop or I'll have an accident.' Being that I’d just used the facilities, which they knew, they didn't let up. I don't know if they tickled for the full minute or not. To me it seemed like an hour.

Being tickled like that did take my mind off the challenges of my future, and brought me into the present. The rest of the trip was real nice; I was more relaxed than I'd been in days. The Black Sheep may be a bunch of goof-offs and hecklers, but they are also some of the best friends I've ever had.

By the time we got off of I-15, the other busses had caught up with us. Dinner was great, I've never ordered for myself before, which was kind of fun and kind of scary at the same time. When we were traveling, Mom or Dad always ordered for me.

Like Mr. Peterson said, the restaurant was a small place. We were seated in the order we entered the doors. Mary Beth and I were seated at an oblong table, along with Misa and Morgan, as well as Pamela and Crystal from year E, which was a surprise. During dinner, we got aquainted and learned a lot about the year E students and what our classes would be like as we got older. I didn't know what the others thought about it, but I was beginning to wonder what I'd gotten myself into.

During dinner, I received an unexpected text message,

Updated information obtained.
Additional DVDs provided.
Nellie will keep them safe
until your return.
LB

Mr. Black's message, although somewhat cryptic and unexpected, was welcome, and hopefully the information he'd left would answer most of the questions. I just couldn't help but wonder what Nellie had to do with it, or how he knew her name.

After we were back on the busses, to my surprise, we went further north. Obviously, we weren't going to the center in Ogden, where Jens Mortensen had been performing the day before. We were only on the busses for a few minutes before we pulled up in front of a large white building. The sign on the building said ‘Utah State University, Brigham City Campus’. Once again we again disembarked from our sleek metallic chariots. We were directed through a maze of corridors before coming to a stop, then into a small auditorium. My first thought was, would we all fit in here? We were allowed to sit anywhere we wished.

I considered sitting near the front, knowing I'd be going up front sooner or later. The bulk of the Black Sheep thought it would be fun to sit in the very back. As the floor was sloped, the seats in the rear were the highest. The Black Sheep thought it would be fun to look down over everyone else for a change. Somewhat reluctantly, Mary Beth and I joined in with the rest of the year. While we were waiting, I started wondering how this had been arranged. Did the S. P. A. have connections with Utah State University, or rather, who in the S. P. A. had connections at the university?

Once everyone was seated, a young lady stepped onto the small stage. "Welcome, everyone. We have a special treat for you this evening. Tonight you will not only be entertained by observing the effects of hypnosis, but each and every one of you will know what it feels like to lose control of your emotions. Welcome to the stage, someone who has mystified the crowned heads of Europe, dazzled presidents, and controlled the minds of thousands. I give you hypnotist extraordinaire, Jens Mortensen."

Everyone applauded as a distinguished looking gentleman entered from a side door, stepping onto the stage and began walking back and forth as he spoke. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'd like to thank you for coming to this command performance this evening. Command performance, what does that mean exactly?”

“A Command Performance is a presentation, or performance, given at the request of royalty or head of state.” Someone from one of the older years yelled out.

“Really? But tonight’s performance isn’t by request of royalty, rather that of a good friend. So in actuality, I’m here by special request. You, on the other hand are the ones that have been commanded to be here. Am I right?"

There was a round of laughter and cheers as everyone realized that he was exactly right. Of course he was right. This whole evening away from school was because of two events; First, Mr. Black's request for my help. Second, we’re here because of my suggestion, as to a way of hiding the truth from the rest of the school. So everyone had been commanded to be here. If I didn't have to be here I wouldn't be.

"Very well," Mr. Mortensen continued. "Now that everyone knows their role here this evening and what's expected of them, shall we have some fun?" This was followed by more cheers.

"Great, it sounds like everyone’s ready for a good time." More cheering. "What a terrific group. I understand you're all from the same school, is that right?" That room was too small for all that noise. "I'll take that as a yes. Well now, we wouldn't want to do anything to embarrass a fellow student, now would we? What do you say we start out small and work up to a big finale?" I was starting to think half the school would have sore throats before the night was over. "Let's have two volunteers, after all two is the smallest group there is."

Almost on cue I heard Kimberley and Angel call out,” Munchkin, Munchkin . . .” They were soon joined by almost the entire school.

I slowly stood. I was going to take Mary Beth with me, but I decided I'd already involved her in to many of my misadventures already. So I decided to pick on someone else for a change, and grabbed Misa's hand.

"What? Me?" Misa complained.

Suddenly all of the Black Sheep started chanting, “Misa, Misa . . .” soon to be joined by many others. Misa smiled at me as she shrugged her shoulders and stood up. Taking my hand, we boldly walked down the aisle.

"Hello," Mr. Mortensen greeted, shaking Misa's hand. "And who would you be?"

"I'm Misa."

"It’s very nice to meet you, Misa."

Turning and shaking my hand, he continued, "And you must be a Munchkin. I think you're the smallest victim … I mean, subject, I've worked with. How old are you, five or si - ix?" There was a collective gasp from the audience, and I think I heard Ellen and perhaps Mr. Peterson calling out my name. "Ouch!"

"I'm ten!" I stated gruffly, as I withdrew my foot.

"My apologies Miss Munchkin," he said while rubbing his left calf. "I guess I've said something that upset you, Miss …?"

"It's Matilda. And … I'm Sorry. It's a reflex action," I apologized.

"Well perhaps I should stand over here," he chuckled as he hobbled to stand behind a row of chairs, motioning us toward the first two chairs in the row. "Would you be so kind as to take a seat?"

The next twenty minutes I have no memory of, except that Mary Beth told me I make a good chicken. The rest of the evening was a blur. As each group of volunteers were coaxed from the audience, those who had participated remained on stage. Mr. Mortensen's last stunt was indeed a grand finale as it was directed at all those remaining in the audience. So everyone had a taste of being under someone else's control.

The ride back to the Manor was uneventful; almost everyone napped at some point in time. Arriving back in my room, we found out what Mr. Black had referred to in his e-mail. Neatly stacked in the middle of my bed were five DVDs and an envelope. We chuckled to ourselves as Nellie was sitting on top of the stack, protecting them.

"Should we start with the DVDs or the letter?" I asked.

"Are you nuts? It's after midnight and you’re thinking about watching DVDs!" Mary Beth scolded. "Just read the letter, and then let's go to bed. We can go through the DVDs tomorrow."

"Okay, okay, you don't have to get upset."

"I'm sorry. I'm not upset, just really tired an-n (yaaaawn) n-nd I need some sleep."

"I know what you mean (yaawn) and you're right, the DVDs can wait. Should I read this out loud?"

"It'll save trying to explain-n-n (yaawn) it later."

"You want to sit down?"

"No way. If I sit down I'll fall asleep. Just read it."

"Okay, it's a little long."

"So read fast."

Matilda,

The answers to your questions are as follows;

First, Sally’s diapers are never changed in a public setting. While the family is at home, the live-in nurse takes Sally to her room to change her diapers. When traveling, Sally’s mother or sister will do the same, taking Sally into the privacy of the room that the girls would share. If they are in a public setting, a restaurant, store, or other public area, the use of a private gender neutral, facility is desired. That being unavailable they will use a handicap/wheelchair stall in a public restroom.

Second, Sally only makes a fuss about being changed if she’s involved with a game, a movie, or some other activity. The problem is being taken away from what she wants, not the act of having her diaper changed.

All of Sally’s other characteristics can be observed on the various DVDs that have been left for you. She is, for all practical purposes, a large two-year-old. When we inquired about Sally’s condition, both Jean-Paul and Suzette were very reluctant to discuss it. It was only through a private and very tearful, talk with Arabelle that we learned some valuable information. Taking that to Jean-Paul, we were able to learn the facts about Sally, and why Arabelle is so devoted to her little sister.

It seems that when Sally was two, Jean-Paul was working for a different company. The security at this company was very lax, and the families of the employees were allowed to visit during working hours.

One day Suzette took the two girls to visit their father. Jean-Paul was explaining the different processes that were performed in the various labs. Sally quickly became bored with the scientific explanations and wanted Arabelle to play with her. Arabelle was interested in what her father was describing, and didn't want to be bothered. She absentmindedly left Sally in her father's office. Sally played for a little while before wandering off, looking for her family. Scared and tired, she wandered into a quiet room and fell asleep under some heavy gray blankets.

Shortly after Sally fell asleep an automated door slid closed, trapping her inside one of the test chambers. In a nearby control room an elaborate sequence had begun, bringing four different radioactive elements together, in an attempt to create a more powerful element. It wasn't until the remote camera zoomed out that someone noticed the pile of lead-lined radiation vests … move.

It took some time before the procedure could be aborted and all the elements were safely returned to their storage containers. The cleanup procedure took an additional ninety minutes in order to bring the radiation levels down to marginally acceptable levels. All totaled, Sally was exposed to what was considered lethal radiation for two hours, forty five minutes.

When the test chamber could finally be opened, everyone expected the worst. To the relief of Jean-Paul, Suzette, and Arabelle, Sally was alive; and to the shock of everyone else she was apparently unharmed. Sally was tested and examined for months after that, every aspect of her life, growth, and blood composition was recorded over and over. It was sometime before they realized that Sally's brain had stopped growing.

Sally was two years, four months, and sixteen days old when the accident occurred, and her brain hasn't changed or grown from that day to this. The physicians and the many specialists that have examined her over the years are as stumped now as they were then. They do agreed that without some change, some new brain growth or activity, Sally may not live to see her sixteenth birthday.

Arabelle blames herself for what happened to her sister. She has devoted herself to taking care of Sally, as have both of their parents. Sally, on the other hand appears to be completely unaware of any problem. Her body continues to grow, but to Sally, she's the same two-year-old she was on that fatal day; happy, cheerful, and completely free of any cares, worries, or the frustrations normally seen in children with abnormal brain activity.

* * * To Be Continued * * *

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