Dreamland Social Club Read Online Free PDF

a bunch of chairs set up in the middle of the room, facing the TV—“those of you who would like to can take a seat and view Edison’s film. Those of you who don’t want to watch such a disturbing thing—again, we’re talking about the electrocution of an elephant —can step back out into the hall.”
    Jane had never been on a field trip this odd and thought she should probably bolt, but then Tattoo Boy said, “I’ve seen it before; I’ll bite.” He sat beside Mr. Simmons, and then his disciples moved to fill in seats around him.
    A bunch of kids walked out into the hall and a bunch of others sat down and then Babette took a seat beside Tattoo Boy. Under the glare of the museum’s overhead spotlights her black hair took on a bluish sheen, while her skin looked so white that Jane wondered whether she had somehow bleached it. She looked extraordinary right then—like a rare orchid or endangered bird. Jane only realized she was the only person left in the room standing when Babette shook her head, leaned toward Tattoo Boy, and said, “Five bucks says she won’t do it.”
    There was something wrong with wanting to see such a thing.
    Wasn’t there?
    Tattoo Boy looked up at Jane, took a moment to study her, and said, “I’m not so sure I’d take that bet.”
     
    The words “ELECTROCUTING AN ELEPHANT, A film by Thomas A. Edison” appeared, white letters on black, along with the year, 1903, and some kind of reference code: H26890. The type itself seemed to shiver on-screen, but Jane wondered if it was actually she who was shaking. Then Topsy—an elephant-shaped shadow in a mostly white shot—appeared, but the quality of the film was so bad that it was hard to know what was even going on. It looked like footage of an elephant in a blizzard, all whitewashed and chilling.
    There seemed to be a cut then to another shot of Topsy, walking up closer to the camera. Then puffs of what could only be smoke— yes, smoke —appeared under Topsy’s feet and started rising to engulf her. She fell—forward, toward her right eye—as the smoke started to dissipate. A dark figure of a man rushed through the front of the frame as if in a panic and then it went to black.
    It was over before Jane had even realized what was happening, before she could even work up the cry that had started to form deep in her gut.
    “That’s it?” someone in class protested.
    The lights came up and Tattoo Boy said, “That is some fucked-up shit.”
    “Watch it, Mr. LaRocca,” Mr. Simmons said.
    So his last name, at least, was LaRocca.
    Mr. Simmons looked at his watch, then led everyone out into the hallway where the rest of the class was waiting. “Tonight I want you all to write two hundred words about why you felt compelled to watch—or not watch—what you had to know would be a disturbing film. If you hesitated in your choice, and I know who you are”—Jane averted her eyes from his gaze—“I want to know why you did that, too.”

    The mist had lifted, unveiling a clear, hot morning. The ocean was churning up some white breakers right near the shore, and Jane stopped for a moment to watch and took a deep breath of salty air. It felt weird to be so close to the sea on a school day; putting a high school barely half a block from the beach seemed somehow cruel.
    There was a fake palm tree on the beach right in front of her and it turned on: water sprayed from it, scattering a few startled birds. Jane tried to imagine wearing a swimsuit, dancing under the palm’s spray, but couldn’t yet wrap her head around it. She hadn’t been swimming in what felt like a lifetime—not since the Ocean Dome, not since her had mother died—and she wondered whether and when she’d ever do it again. Noting the cigarette butts and soda cans in the sand, she thought that this hardly seemed the place.
    Jane trailed behind everyone else, looking for Tattoo Boy and thinking it wouldn’t be that big a deal to just ask him about his seahorse