Night Class

The scream ended abruptly. There was no doubt as to what had happened. One more, Sunset thought. She turned to Trixie who was looking back at her with big frightful eyes. Just don’t ask me who I think it was because I can’t handle thinking about that.

“What do we do now?” Trixie asked instead.

“We have to get out of school, but we can’t. So we have to find a phone and call help.”

“But yours is in the clubroom upstairs. I don’t think we should go out there. We’ll just run into him again.”

“It’s not safe to stay here and do nothing either,” Sunset said.

“But at least we don’t have to go out there, where the killer is roaming,” Trixie said.

“Okay, let’s start with this place. There has to be a phone somewhere.”

They got up and looked around in the gloomy office. Sunset didn’t know which teacher it belonged to, and it wasn’t obvious from the books and files lying around. She carefully shifted some of the files on the desk around to see if there was a phone, but didn’t find one.

“Art history books,” Trixie remarked, looking at the book shelf. “Probably Mister Cranky Doodle’s.” She flicked against one of the books. “He lives so far in the past he probably still uses pigeons.”

Sunset chuckled. “You’re right. Let’s try next door. At least we don’t have to get out in the hallway.” She carefully turned the knob of the connecting door and found it open.

Another office. This one contained two desks facing each other in the center of the room. There was another door opposite the one they had just come through.

The desk facing them was neat and clean, with no phone on it. Instead there was a baseball in a Plexiglas box, and several photographs of football and soccer matches. “Coach Iron Hoof’s,” Trixie commented.

“Let’s see if there isn’t—“ Sunset murmured and carefully pulled out the desk drawers. One contained a few old newspapers. The second one was empty except for some paper clips. And in the third she found a reeking jersey.

“What are you planning with that?” Trixie asked, audibly grinning. “Choke the killer to death?”

“Very funny. I was hoping for maybe a baseball bat,” Sunset replied.

“Why would you have a baseball bat in an office?”

“He’s the coach, what do I know?” Sunset hissed. “You got a better idea?”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie does not.”

“Then stop wisecracking and check the other desk, okay?”

Trixie didn’t reply and instead went to work on the other desk’s drawers. “Just math tests. I wouldn’t have expected Miss Cheerilee to have a weapon anyway.”

They tried the next door and found it open as well. This office again only contained one desk, but what drew their attention was the light shining through the opposite door. Sunset was about to rush towards it, but Trixie held her back. “Careful,” she whispered. “We don’t know who’s in there!”

Sunset nodded in agreement. They sneaked past the desk, only giving it a passing glance. There were some papers scattered on it, and a pocket calculator next to it, but no indication whose office this might be. No phone either.

They both pressed their ears against the door to the lit room. There was no sound. Trixie knelt down and peaked through the keyhole. “Empty,” she mouthed as she got back up.

“Let’s,” Sunset whispered.

The slowly opened the door and found themselves in a brightly lit office. On the desk there were two stacks of papers, a pen, and a mug with tea in it. There was also a photograph depicting the desk’s owner.

“Miss Harshwhinny.”

Sunset carefully touched the cup. “Still warm. She can’t be gone for long.”

“More tests,” Trixie said, looking at the papers. “You don’t think she was correcting these and got annoyed and left her office to restore order?”

“Don’t be silly!”

Trixie pulled out a drawer. “Ooh, this is all the stuff she has confiscated!” She picked up a small item from the drawer. “This one is actually mine.”

“What do you have there?”

“A Chinese finger trap, which was gifted to my great uncle by a Mongolian clan leader. It is a prized heirloom, but sadly nothing immediately useful.” She took another look at the drawer. “Darn, Miss Harshwhinny confiscates everything. Why aren’t there any phones in there? She’s even a nuisance when she’s not here!”

“Yeah, I’ve had a few run-ins with her too. She hates me,” Sunset said.

“You’re not that special. I think she hates everyone.”

“Likely.” Sunset came over to have a look at the confiscated goods as well. “No slingshots or anything?”

“Nothing.” Trixie closed the drawer. “Were you really going to shoot him with a slingshot?”

“If all else fails, yeah.” Sunset moved to the next connecting door. “We can’t stay here,” she said. “It’s the only lit room on this floor.”

“You’re right.”

Sunset tried to open the next door, but this one was locked. “This might be a case for the Great and Powerful Trixie.”

“There’s no need to be making fun of me,” Trixie scoffed, but went to work at the lock regardless. It only took her a few seconds again to pry it open. They hurried through and closed the door behind them.

This office was darker than they had expected—someone had affixed a piece of cardboard on the connecting door’s glass pane, and almost no light came through from Miss Harshwhinny’s office. There was one desk, this one much bigger and older than the ones in the offices so far, and a book shelf.

“I think my father has this one,” Trixie remarked, pointing at a thick leather-bound volume. Sunset read the title: Unaussprechlichen Kulten.

She looked around and read some other titles. Some were in languages she didn’t understand, and most of them were unfamiliar, like the one Trixie had pointed out.

Sunset started. Did I read this right? She tried to find the book again. The title read Spirits and the Otherworld, by one S. Swirl.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” There was simply no way she could explain to Trixie just how inexplicably weird it was that a book she knew from her magic studies back in Equestria was standing on a book shelf in Canterlot High. “What the hell is this place?”

“I’d say it’s a magic library. Go on, say it,” Trixie added dejectedly.

“What now?”

“’There is no magic’,” Trixie said. “It’s what everybody always says. I’ve heard it a million times.”

“You do remember who I am, right?” Sunset asked, laughing. “Mind-controlling Demon Queen? I know for a fact that magic exists.”

“That’s a first,” Trixie remarked. “But what is the purpose of having a magic library in the school?”

“Beats me. Let’s check the desk.”

They tried the drawers. Only the second one was unlocked, so they opened it first. It only seemed to contain a sheet of paper, some sort of invoice from the University of Fillydelphia about a specimen delivered to the school’s science department. The specimen had been received and the invoice paid, according to two stamps. It dated back eighteen years. Under the paper lay an old photograph of a man Sunset didn’t know—judging from his clothes and the colors of the photograph it was at least as old as the invoice.

“Hmm?” she asked when Trixie kept staring at the photo.

“I think I have seen him before, but I can’t remember where.”

“Odd.”

“Uh-huh.”

Then Trixie tried her trusty lock picks on the other drawers. But unlike the school doors, these locks were too hard for her.

Just as they were wondering what to do next, they heard the sound of someone furtively opening the door of Miss Harshwhinny’s office. The door was closed again almost immediately, and there were no more noises after that.

Sunset hurried to the door, grateful for the cardboard covering the glass pane. She peaked through the keyhole and gestured for Trixie to come over.

“Sweetie Drops and Micro Chips,” she mouthed, pointing at the door.

“Obviously we can’t trust them,” Trixie whispered back.

“Obviously we won’t,” Sunset replied. “We’ll keep our eyes open. But maybe they can be useful.”

Trixie nodded, although it was clearly visible that she wasn’t all too happy about the newcomers. Sunset gave her an, as she hoped, reassuring smile and quickly opened the door.