By Cadi Murphy
“No one knows how Captain Anson died, but some say his spirit still haunts the sea, sailing free forever.” The werewolf boy’s sharp grin glittered from the shadows.
Miss Ingrid turned up the oil lamp, pushing the darkness to the corners of the classroom. “Sit down, Vespian. You aren’t scaring anyone.”
Folding his hairy arms, Vespian plunked into his seat at the desk beside me. “I was only making our lesson interesting.”
“And you did,” Miss Ingrid said, “until you veered off the history books into legend.” Of all the teachers at the Reformatory School for Troubled Young Monsters, Miss Ingrid was the only one who was nice to us. A petite werewolf with ebony hair, she always wore a skirt and suit jacket. I’d never seen a woman wear a jacket like a man until I’d met her.
I adjusted my specs and raised my hand. “Before Vep tried to scare the freshmen, he said that Anson was the first werewolf pirate captain ever. Is that true?”
Vespian flicked my arm. “Just call me a liar, Eamon, why not?”
Miss Ingrid licked her thumb and leafed through the book in her hand. “Surprisingly, Vespian’s retelling was historically accurate.”
“Why is that surprising?” Vespian’s brow wrinkled beneath the silver hair covering his face.
“However, he missed some key details, which I shall read from our textbook.”
The whole class groaned.
“Your other professors may be content teaching you to bend to their whims, lick their shoes, and avoid the switch”—under her dark hair, Miss Ingrid’s cheeks reddened—“but I’ll be a bat’s naked pup before I fail to give the Pack some real education.”
The Pack was what we students called ourselves. We looked out for each other when the teachers were particularly mean, but we never had to worry in Miss Ingrid’s class.
As she read aloud, I sank back in my chair and practiced balancing a fountain pen across my fangs. Vespian scratched the wood on the underside of his desk, probably carving out some rude word. The other boys stirred restlessly, filling the room with the constant creak of chairs.
Boring.
Miss Ingrid paused. Her gaze roved over us for a moment then turned back to the page. “Without the aid of Captain Anson’s crew, it’s doubtful that Magistrate Adler would’ve succeeded in uniting the monster kinds and establishing our nation as it is today…” She moved to the classroom door and peeked out.
I shared a glance with Vespian. What was she doing?
“However,” she droned on, “if, by some strange magic, the spirit of Captain Anson returned to sail the sea forever, I suppose he would need a ship.” She shut the book. “On your feet, Eamon. I require your chair as a poop deck.”
Vespian snickered.
I’d barely stood before she dragged my chair to the center of the room. With a grin, Vespian scooted his desk after her. The rest of us fell to, constructing a ship with anything we could find. A desk for the plank, a mop for the mast, a book for the wheel.
“What shall we name our fair vessel?” Miss Ingrid asked.
I raised my hand. “The Jolly Roger!”
“Jolly who?” Vespian scoffed. I’d tried to get him to read Peter and Wendy, but he didn’t even finish chapter one.
A goblin boy suggested, “The Flying Dutchman!”
“Taken,” Vespian said. “And that one belonged to a crew of only ghosts, which I say was rudely exclusive. How about The Pack’s Revenge?”
Vespian was the alpha of our Pack, so naturally everyone cried, “Aye, Captain!”
Everyone except Miss Ingrid, of course, who said, “As a teacher, I really cannot condone that name.”
“Don’t worry.” I grinned. “You don’t count as a teacher today.”
She smoothed her jacket. “Imagination can be a form of education.”
Shuffling footsteps sounded from the hallway, punctuated by the click of a cane. The thud of Long John Silver’s peg leg wouldn’t have filled us with as much dread as that sound. And Miss Ingrid barely opened her mouth before we started disassembling.
By the time old Mister Crockett appeared in the doorway, we all sat at our desks and Miss Ingrid held the open textbook. Leering, the decrepit vampire drummed his skeletal fingers on the head of his cane. “Are these boys behaving, Miss Ingrid? I thought I heard a ruckus… the sound of merriment.”
Her eyes widened. “Merriment in my class, sir? Impossible.”
“Indeed. Then I assume these imps are being well educated?” He glared at Vespian, who glared back.
I shot a smile at Crockett. “Yes, sir. She’s teaching us a lot. We’ve been learning about Captain Anson and how he conspired with the captain of the Jolly Roger to raid The Flying Dutchman. But I’m sure you know all about this fascinating bit of history.”
“Of course I do! What impertinence—” A cough interrupted Crockett’s rant, sending a shower of spittle between his fangs. He fished a handkerchief from the pocket of his wool coat as his body shuddered under a fit.
Vespian’s body also shook, but from holding in a laugh. I kicked his shin, keeping my face passive.
“Oh, dear.” Miss Ingrid laid the book on her desk. “I think you need a rest, sir. Let me escort you to the lounge.”
Crockett’s face splotched with purple, but he wheezed out words from behind his handkerchief. “Shouldn’t… leave… rascals… unsupervised!”
“Leave them to me.” Taking Crockett’s arm, she glowered at us. Her tone became stern. “Boys, if your three essays are not complete by the time I return, God help your poor souls, I shall have you all sent to the headmaster!” She winked as Crockett bent under the force of a new cough.
We all chorused, “Yes, ma’am!”
Once Crockett’s cane faded to silence, we rebuilt The Pack’s Revenge. And Miss Ingrid didn’t return for the rest of that period, allowing our imaginations to sail free with the spirit of Captain Anson.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Such a delightful return to the Pack’s adventures! Looking forward to the next instalment! :-D
You’re the best, Beka! Thank you for being so kind with my monster kids.
This made me grin! I love how cleverly Miss Ingrid circumvents the rules to teach her students what they really need to know.
I’m so glad you enjoyed it, Katie! Thanks for reading!
This is absolutely adorable. I think I smiled the whole time I read it! ♥
I’m so glad, Hannah! Thank you for reading!