Page 132 of The Reformatory

But Blue did not answer, of course, so Robert could only wait. Robert stood at the dormitory window beyond the rows of empty beds, staring across the overgrown field toward the cafeteria. Did haints even follow time? Did Blue understand how important it was that Robert must start running before check-in? Before dark?

Redbone had said to trust Blue, so Robert tried to trust the haint with all his heart.

He didn’t know how much time passed before he saw handwriting emerge from the dust on the windowpane near his nose, one letter at a time like a crawling snail: B-U-R-N-I-N-G. No one was writing the letters—they appeared from thin air—so Blue’s signal had come in his own way.

Robert stared until the slow writing stopped and the word stared back. He’d expected to bolt out of the dorm as soon as it was time, but even with so clear a message, he stood staring longer than he meant to. Being this close to his bed reminded him that he could just curl under his sheet and go to sleep tonight instead of risking his life in the woods—if he even got as far as the woods. He had to go to Warden Haddock’s office first or Blue would trip him up for sure. He’d been whipped bloody just for asking how anyone ran away. How many hidden graves of boys who had tried to run had he walked over already?

He didn’t see any smoke from the cafeteria yet, but he thought he saw a small crowd. He had to hurry! Why wasn’t he moving?

Finally, thinking of Gloria helped. She would be so worried if he didn’t come! He slipped to the empty hall to go to his locker. He shoved the petroleum jelly in his pocket and slung the satchel with Redbone’s portrait over his shoulder. He untied and retied his laces, making sure to yank them tight. The warm key to the warden’s desk still lay safe inside his sock, the only place he dared to keep it.

Why hadn’t he eaten more of his cheese sandwich at lunch? He was already hungry. He hadn’t slept well, so he was tired too. Robert’s stomach was a ball of knots. Maybe this was how Papa had felt when he climbed into the trunk of the reverend’s car to leave them, forehead creased as he thought about the danger and how it might be a mistake to go.

Right before he was free.

Robert’s nostrils tingled from a smoky smell. But he was walking away from the cafeteria, so this smoke was from the ghost fire, the cursed spot where a shed once had stood, the place where Blue had died. The field seemed to shimmer, so Robert stayed at the spot’s outer edges, but sometimes his foot landed so close that his toes felt singed, making him hop away. Would the fire keep burning after he set the haints free? After he showed everyone the photographs of what Haddock had done? Maybe he could finally put the fire out.

Distantly, a bell began an excited, tinny clanging: a fire alarm at the cafeteria! He couldn’t see the cafeteria from this side of the campus, but he was sure that must be it. Ten minutes at least had passed since Blue’s writing on the dirty window, and maybe the fire was good and big now. If Blue had started the fire in the back, where he’d seen the haint who’d been stabbed, maybe no one had been close to the burners when Blue set them on fire. And since it wasn’t dinnertime yet, the cafeteria would have been mostly empty. Robert wished he could see the fire to be sure—both how big it was and to be certain no one was hurt. “Trust Blue,” he whispered, a reminder. If no one would be hurt, he hoped the fire was big. He hoped they’d have to shut the kitchen down and the judge would send everyone home.

The brick administration building stood ahead as pretty as a church, but the white truck parked outside that had carried Redbone’s body reminded Robert that it was a deadly place. He slowed his pace when he saw a white woman step out of her parked car to go inside, but she never noticed him. Robert ran toward the rear of the building, looking for refuge in the neatly clipped hedges that hugged the length of the wall, so thick that he was hidden from anyone who might pass except for his boots, and maybe even they were not visible.

A line of six unevenly spaced windows loomed above, vines crawling up the walls between them, and he realized with horror that, with all of his planning, he had never figured out which window was Haddock’s. Breathing fast, he crawled to the first window and peeked inside: the lobby. The woman who had left the car was sitting directly in front of him, her back turned.

Robert ducked down fast. If she saw him, his escape would be over already. His heart was pounding so hard that he was sure it must be shaking the windowpane. Robert took a breath and tried to remember the layout of the lobby. If the first window was for the room where people sat down and waited, the next window might be behind the secretary’s desk.

As if to confirm his memory, the secretary’s phone jangled from the next window, which was cracked open to let in a breeze. She picked it up on the first ring. “Superintendent Haddock’s off—” But the person on the line cut her off. “Wait a minute—just slow down…,” the woman said. Robert inched slowly down the side of the building behind the hedges, the jutting bricks scraping his skin white with scratches like claw marks as he moved. “Oh my! Oh my, yes.”

And she hung up the phone with a clatter. “Mr. Haddock, there’s a fire in the kitchen!”

The third window was dark, but it was halfway open, and Robert was wondering if that third window was Haddock’s when he saw movement and the curtains were flung open. He was there. Robert couldn’t see Haddock’s face from his angle below the window, and he prayed Haddock couldn’t see him, but a palm was pressed to the upper window as Haddock stared outside, looking toward the kitchen. Robert wondered if he could see some of the smoke… and if he liked seeing smoke that reminded him of the fire he’d set.

“Just go,” Robert whispered, hardly louder than a thought.

As if Robert had willed it, Haddock’s palm disappeared and his footsteps landed hard across the floor, mingled with someone else’s. Haddock was speaking rapidly, a few words flying out of each window as he passed from his office out to the lobby. “Don’t call… until I say so… I’ll… you round up Blake… call you back… a report.” Haddock slammed his office door closed. Keys jingled as he locked it. “You hear me, Doris? Don’t call anyone ’til I take a look.” His voice was in Robert’s ear as he passed the lobby window.

Haddock sounded scared. For the first time, Robert understood the power of enjoying someone else’s fear. Haddock had told him the town hadn’t forgotten the 1920 fire, so maybe he was afraid a new fire would shut him down. Robert’s own fear was gone—he was smiling as he savored Haddock’s fear, feeding on it.

Robert waited until he heard the white truck’s engine start up and Haddock raced off.

Even then, Robert counted to ten to make sure Haddock wouldn’t come back.

“Bit of excitement?” the visitor inside said through the window, sounding chipper.

“Always something on Friday,” the secretary said, pretending to match her cheer. But this woman who had called him a “scrawny little nigger” the first day he came was probably scared because her boss was scared. Robert hoped her heart was racing so hard that she might faint, the same way he’d felt at the Funhouse.

Once he was sure Haddock wasn’t nearby, Robert inched past the secretary’s window to the third, where the curtains were parted like an open mouth. After checking to make sure no one was watching him, Robert stood on his toes to peer inside. The back of Haddock’s desk and leather chair were nearly close enough to touch. He could see far across the empty office to the photo of Haddock with his dead baby sister on the wall. The window was open enough for him to squeeze through without touching it or making a racket, but when he jiggled the loose screen, it held instead of falling. Dammit. He pushed inward harder and it gave an inch more, but he realized he should have brought something sharp to cut the screen. How had he forgotten?

One more glance around, and Robert reached inside the screen to try to feel for a pin that might be holding it in place. Nothing at first, and then—there! With his fingertips, he tried to jiggle the pin left and right. He raised himself higher on his tiptoes for more reach and it finally gave… and the screen widened maybe six inches more into the room. He knew he should try to be patient and feel for another pin, since the screen was still dangling, but Robert suddenly felt desperate to be inside the office and out of sight from outside. Unevenly jutting bricks gave him the footing to lift himself a bit higher, and he began a headfirst slide. Gloria used to call him “li’l skinny bean,” and now he was glad to be so small. He felt himself catch below the waist and wished he had hoisted his leg in first: at this angle, he would tumble to the floor! But the leather chair’s back was close enough to help him gain balance, even as it twirled slightly and rolled forward on the wood floor and hit the side of the desk with a THUNK. Robert held his breath until his vision dimmed, but no one came to Haddock’s door.

He was still only halfway through the window, so he arched his back against the wobbly rim of the screen, which scratched him as he raised his leg to climb inside. The scratch felt deep enough to bleed, but Robert moved more quickly, hanging on to the thin shelf above the curtain rod to keep his balance until his feet landed on the floor. The screen finally came loose on his back, but Robert caught it before it fell to the floor. Perspiration ran into his eyes, stinging him as he panted and waited once again to see if anyone would come.

No one. And he was inside! This was the hardest thing he had ever tried, an act so bold that Haddock would never imagine it, and he was actually doing it. Rushing now, Robert sat on the bare wooden floor behind the desk to fling off his boot, which he’d tied so tightly that he spent nearly a minute fumbling with the knotted lace with sweaty fingers. He heard the clock on Haddock’s wall tick as the minute hand moved up, so he noticed the time: 4:55 p.m. It was almost dinnertime, so more boys would be flocking to the cafeteria soon, fire or no fire. He might go unnoticed on an ordinary day, but maybe not today. If he didn’t make it to the hole in the fence before someone noticed he was gone, he would have no chance to get away. While he worked to untie his lace, Robert glanced at the space under the desk and saw traces of a circle of powder on the floor he recognized from Boone’s leather pouch: a trap was laid to keep Blue away just like Blue had said. If he could just get his boot off—

The knot answered his prayer and came loose, and Robert pulled off his boot and sock to find the key buried in the meat of his foot’s sole, where his calluses were thickest.

The center desk drawer and its keyhole stared Robert in the face.

With a trembling hand, Robert slid the key into the lock, but he knew even before he tried to turn it: the key was too small to catch. For a few seconds, Robert refused to believe his bad luck, trying again and again. The keyhole was so oversized that he almost pushed the key inside, but he yanked hard to retrieve it.