The Moss Maiden of Kinderhook

Chapter Eight

When William attended the Academy on Wednesday, he found that nothing had changed from the previous day. The staff still refused to talk about the murder, while the students talked about nothing else.

He tried to avoid the conversation that ran rampant in-between – and even during – class, but it was everywhere. Sides were starting to be taken as to the existence of the creature. If William had to guess, it seemed about two out of three students believed Mr. Ostrum. Only a week before, if you had asked any of them if they believed in monsters, William was certain that they all would have said no.

Despite the general readiness to believe, what surprised, and concerned William, as much as anything else was Nathaniel Minkler. Even though his usual custom was to get involved in every conversation, invited or not, he did not engage in the current topic – despite his clear excitement for it. William was haunted by his previous discussion with Nathaniel, the absolute belief that the boy had, and yet Nathaniel had started to keep to himself, head in a book. It seemed as if the debate that went on around him wasn't worth his time; as if it wasn't a debate at all.

It felt as if he was waiting for something.

After classes, per usual, William went to Van Vleck's store to see Marie. The shop was situated just across from the village green, on the corner of Albany Street and Chatham Street. As William approached, he could see Marie through the large front window, sweeping one of aisles. He stood just outside the glass and made funny faces at her until she noticed him. When she did, she shook her head and smiled. Holding up her fingers, she indicated that she would be done in five minutes.

William took a seat on the bench out front and waited. Almost instantly, he spotted trouble. From up the road, amongst the carriages and other villagers, was Benedict Kittle, a fellow student, a braggart, and a bully. Along with him were three other boys, two of them also students, that all seemed to feel superior when in Benedict's company. There were heading his way.

Despite Benedict's general repulsiveness, at times William almost felt sorry for him. His older brother was a supervisor in their father's mill and, by all accounts, was well liked and had an exceptional mind for business. Benedict's little sister was the pride and joy of the Kittle's and was treated like a princess. That left Benedict in the middle with not much attention left over for him. William knew that Benedict's acting arrogantly, his putting others down to make himself look better, was just his way of trying to compensate. Still, even though there may be a reason behind his actions, it didn't make them right. Certainly didn't make him any more likable.

"Well, well, if it isn't William Dull," laughed Benedict as he got near. The joke was mildly clever when they were young – Dull instead of Sharp – but had become pretty pathetic over the years. The other boys guffawed, of course.

Not at all feeling like dealing with them, William simply nodded and said, "Benedict," and hoped they would move along. It was not to be.

"So, William, do you want to guess where we are heading to?" Benedict asked.

On many days, William would have a humorous answer to give, not always nice, but he wasn't in the mood. "I don't know."

Benedict looked mildly put out by the tame response. "We are going to the murder spot. Principal Glezan can't keep us away all day. I've heard that you can still see his blood."

I don't care. I don't want to hear it. Just go away. "Well, have a good time. Be careful though, it would be a real shame if you all got attacked."

Benedict took a small step forward and offered, "You can come with us if you are not too scared."

Being the son of a farmer, William was as strong as any boy in town. Benedict, however, hadn't had to work a day in his life. Sure, his family was wealthy, and he dressed in the latest fashion, but he was no match for William when it came to physicality – or bravery. Shooting him a dark glance – which caused Benedict's smile to falter a little – William didn't take the bait and simply answered, "No, thanks."