Miss Taylor,” the teacher said. Glancing up I saw him standing over me. Obviously, he hadn’t been lecturing for some time. “But some members of the class are trying to listen to me since this information will be on the exam. They are not interested in your social life.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hutson.” I scrunched down in my seat.
“See me after class.”
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
As the teacher turned away, I shot a glare at each of my friends and then turned my undivided attention to my notebook.
* * * * *
Mr. Hutson harangued me for five minutes after class about my “rude behavior”, saying “my sad circumstances” were only going to get me so much leeway. Keeping my head down, I endured the punishment stoically. At least he wasn’t giving me detention. Finally, he let me go with an admonition about studying for the test next Monday. I dutifully answered, “Yes, sir,” even though I had no such intention.
The thought of the tunnels and what I’d seen, or hadn’t seen, continued to bug me. Since I had two free periods, I got permission from my homeroom teacher to leave the school grounds on the pretext of research for a paper in the Georgia Historical Society’s library. I knew they would have information about the yellow fever epidemics in Savannah and if the tunnel was dug at that time, there must be information about it too.
Unfortunately, Petra and Franky spotted me leaving the building and wanted to tag along. At first, I firmly rejected their company. After some nagging I relented.
“This is going to be research, not a chat fest,” I insisted.
On arrival, I told the librarian we were searching for information about the old hospital tunnel.
“I personally don’t know much about it. Only that part of it collapsed a few years ago and killed a group of vagrants.” Bending over her desk, the librarian scribbled on a post it note and handed it to me. “This is the name and contact information for someone in town. He’s a local historian of sorts. I would bet he knows a lot about the tunnel.” She grimaced. “He’s sort of eccentric but he knows about the ‘oddities’ of Savannah.”
“Thanks.” I took the paper and slipping it into my purse. “But is there anything we might find here?"
“Possibly,” she said.
After having us leave our backpacks at the counter and issuing us cotton gloves, the librarian walked us to a flight of stairs. “You might be able to find something about the tunnel in the old newspapers on the second floor.”
A few minutes later, seated one of the wooden tables, I flipped through the pages of an index to the museum’s newspaper archives.
“I can’t believe how Chase dissed me.” Petra slid into a chair across from me at the table.
Not answering, I continued flipping.
“You aren’t really going on a date with Rom are you?” Franky took a seat on my right.
My admonition really worked. They were both so totally going to leave me alone.
On the notepad in front of me I jotted down all the references to yellow fever epidemic and the tunnel. After retrieving the first volume of compiled newspaper clippings, I returned to my chair.
“I mean, the guy is weird,” Franky said.
“Yeah, Chase is weird.” Petra frowned and twirled a lock of her hair.
“I meant Rom,” Franky said.
“Shut up you two.” I shot them a quelling glare.
The first article from 1876 reported the death toll was rising and the city council had voted to authorize the firing of a cannonball to disperse the vapors of sickness. Yeah that would help , I thought, but only if the cannonball hit the mosquitoes who actually transmitted the disease.
“You don’t care about me.” Petra pouted and jumped up. She made a big production of flouncing over to a chair on the opposite side of the room and plopping down on it, legs crossed. With a huff she pulled out her cell phone and started texting, as she swung her top leg back and forth.
I couldn’t deal with her
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hutson.” I scrunched down in my seat.
“See me after class.”
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
As the teacher turned away, I shot a glare at each of my friends and then turned my undivided attention to my notebook.
* * * * *
Mr. Hutson harangued me for five minutes after class about my “rude behavior”, saying “my sad circumstances” were only going to get me so much leeway. Keeping my head down, I endured the punishment stoically. At least he wasn’t giving me detention. Finally, he let me go with an admonition about studying for the test next Monday. I dutifully answered, “Yes, sir,” even though I had no such intention.
The thought of the tunnels and what I’d seen, or hadn’t seen, continued to bug me. Since I had two free periods, I got permission from my homeroom teacher to leave the school grounds on the pretext of research for a paper in the Georgia Historical Society’s library. I knew they would have information about the yellow fever epidemics in Savannah and if the tunnel was dug at that time, there must be information about it too.
Unfortunately, Petra and Franky spotted me leaving the building and wanted to tag along. At first, I firmly rejected their company. After some nagging I relented.
“This is going to be research, not a chat fest,” I insisted.
On arrival, I told the librarian we were searching for information about the old hospital tunnel.
“I personally don’t know much about it. Only that part of it collapsed a few years ago and killed a group of vagrants.” Bending over her desk, the librarian scribbled on a post it note and handed it to me. “This is the name and contact information for someone in town. He’s a local historian of sorts. I would bet he knows a lot about the tunnel.” She grimaced. “He’s sort of eccentric but he knows about the ‘oddities’ of Savannah.”
“Thanks.” I took the paper and slipping it into my purse. “But is there anything we might find here?"
“Possibly,” she said.
After having us leave our backpacks at the counter and issuing us cotton gloves, the librarian walked us to a flight of stairs. “You might be able to find something about the tunnel in the old newspapers on the second floor.”
A few minutes later, seated one of the wooden tables, I flipped through the pages of an index to the museum’s newspaper archives.
“I can’t believe how Chase dissed me.” Petra slid into a chair across from me at the table.
Not answering, I continued flipping.
“You aren’t really going on a date with Rom are you?” Franky took a seat on my right.
My admonition really worked. They were both so totally going to leave me alone.
On the notepad in front of me I jotted down all the references to yellow fever epidemic and the tunnel. After retrieving the first volume of compiled newspaper clippings, I returned to my chair.
“I mean, the guy is weird,” Franky said.
“Yeah, Chase is weird.” Petra frowned and twirled a lock of her hair.
“I meant Rom,” Franky said.
“Shut up you two.” I shot them a quelling glare.
The first article from 1876 reported the death toll was rising and the city council had voted to authorize the firing of a cannonball to disperse the vapors of sickness. Yeah that would help , I thought, but only if the cannonball hit the mosquitoes who actually transmitted the disease.
“You don’t care about me.” Petra pouted and jumped up. She made a big production of flouncing over to a chair on the opposite side of the room and plopping down on it, legs crossed. With a huff she pulled out her cell phone and started texting, as she swung her top leg back and forth.
I couldn’t deal with her
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