The cat, nose to the ground, hind end held high, crawled out of the bushes. One stealthy step at a time, it stalked the fairy as she checked out Mallory’s lunch. I held back a snicker.
Mallory’s nose wrinkled. “What is that obnoxious smell? Angela, did you fart?”
I broke out laughing. “No.”
But then the smell reached me and my laugh turned to a cough. Mallory was right. Definitely foul.
“Then what is that smell? It’s horrid.” Mallory plugged her nose and her eye lit on the fairy. “What did you do, Angela?”
I took a deep breath to try to get my laughter under control. I nearly choked, which stopped the laughing.
“You’re always saying fairy farts, so I thought I’d give you real ones.”
I doubled over laughing at the look of outrage on Mallory’s face.
She got to her feet and backed away from the fairy. “Hey fairy, do you think you can keep your toots to yourself?”
The cat dodged Mallory to keep from getting stepped on. Before it could pounce on its target, the fairy drew herself up to her full height and flew into Mallory’s face.
“I do not appreciate being called fairy. Do you like it when someone calls you girl?” She hovered with arms crossed, waiting for a response.
“What’s your name, then?”
“Tatiana. And what may I call you?” Her arms dropped slightly.
“My name is Mallory and this is my friend, Angela.” Her lip curled in disgust.
Tatiana must have let another fart fly. The cat dashed over and sat next to my backpack, twitching its tale, but stayed aloof.
“How does something so small put out such a powerful, evil smell?” She pinched her nose again.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Tatiana’s cheeks turned pink.
Mallory took a few steps toward me to get away from the smell. “I thought fairy farts were supposed to smell like roses.”
I laughed so hard my side hurt and tears rolled down my cheeks. No matter where Mallory went, Tatiana followed.
“Angela, make her go away.”
I tried to catch my breath.
Tatiana yelped. “Mallory, I think that is very rude of you. I’m trying to make friends and you keep running away from me.” Her squeaky little voice sounded indignant.
“Look Stinkerbell, I don’t think this friendship is going to work. Maybe you can make friends with a skunk.”
“Stinker ... Stinkerbell. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.” I literally rolled on the ground laughing.
Mallory picked up the journal and dropped it on me. “Angela, I’m serious. Write in the book and make Tatiana disappear. She doesn’t seem to be going the way of the gnome or unicorn.”
Opening the journal, I quickly scrawled:
No more fairy farts.
We both stared at Tatiana, who flew to the grass, picked a dandelion and flew back. She didn’t appear to be going anywhere.
“Um, what if I can’t reverse it?” I tried to keep from giggling.
Mallory crossed her arms. “You’d better figure out a way.”
Tatiana fluttered next to Mallory and plucked a petal off the dandelion. “She loves me ...” She pulled another petal off. “She loves me not ...” She let the petals flutter to the ground.
Mallory waved her hand in front of her nose. “Tatiana, dude. You’ve got to learn to control your flatulence.”
Tatiana ignored her and continued plucking petals.
The five-minute warning bell rang.
Mallory clutched my arms. “Angela, what am I going to do? Mr. Griffith won’t understand Tatiana.” Her eyes widened and her face paled. “What if we’re the only ones who can see her and everyone thinks the obnoxious smell is coming from me? I’ll die of embarrassment.”
“Let me try again.”
Tatiana will stop all flatulence and disappear.
Tatiana pulled the last petal off the dandelion and held it in the air. “She loves me.” She flapped her colorful wings and flew up to Mallory’s shoulder.
Mallory looked cute with a little lavender fairy sitting on her. Well, except for the stricken look of horror on her face.
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m going to have to get a gas mask and wear it for the rest of my life.”
We gathered our stuff. “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe she’ll disappear like the gnome and unicorn. The unicorn stayed a lot longer than the gnome. Maybe the journal is getting stronger.”
As soon as I picked up my things, the cat rubbed up against my legs, but before I could pet it, it dashed back to the bushes.
“Where are we going, Mallory?” Tatiana zipped off and sped away.
Before we could take a step, she was back and threading flowers through Mallory’s hair.
“Tatiana, I have to go to class. I can’t wear flowers in my hair. And I can’t take a fairy to class with me.”
Fluttering her wings, Tatiana crossed her arms and pouted. “But I want to stay with you.”
Mallory searched the sky and took a deep breath. “But if you come with me to class, then the teachers will want to capture you and will keep you in a glass jar to study you.” She held Tatiana in her palm. “You don’t want to be examined, do you?”
She shook her head. “I think being kept in a jar would be horrible. They’d have to catch me first, though.” She buzzed up into the sky, made a loop, and returned to Mallory’s hand. Her body sagged. “Where should I wait for you?”
Mallory shot a look at me. I shrugged.
“I’ll meet you back here after school, but we have to go or we’ll get in trouble for being late.” Mallory set her on a bush as we passed.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Tatiana hummed and used the branches of the bush as a trampoline.
We hurried away from the athletic field.
Mallory swung her pack to her shoulder. “Angela Ashby, have you saddled me with a farting fairy for life?”
Chapter Eleven - Bullies and Frogs
How I wound up taking history after lunch, when my brain wanted a nap, I’d never know. But today, wide awake with brain buzzing, I rehashed what happened with the journal instead of following the discussion about Pandora. I seesawed between awe over what the journal could do and amusement over Mallory and Tatiana.
The Tatiana incident showed me Madame Vadoma and Mallory were right; I needed to be careful about what I wrote in the journal, especially because it seemed nonreversible. Otherwise Tatiana would be gone, which would make me a little sad.
Once Mallory got over the whole noxious farting aspect, she might think it cool to have her own personal fairy. If Tatiana didn’t disappear.
“Miss Ashby, will you please read the next paragraph.”
Mr. Harris broke through my thoughts. I didn’t even know what page we were on. I glanced at the open book next to me, and flipped a page. I opened my mouth to bluff my way through, but the bell rang. Phew.
Out in the hallway, Billy Shipman pinned Zach to the wall by the front of his shirt. Zach’s feet weren’t even touching the ground. Everyone gave them a wide berth. No one wanted to become Billy’s next target. Clusters of students whispered to one another, and a few brave souls tried to inch past without attracting notice.
What had poor Zach done? Sometimes all it took was breathing in Billy’s space.
Billy reminded me of a baboon I once saw at the zoo. He had small eyes, a long nose that ended in flared nostrils, and a vicious snarl.
I whipped the journal out of my pack. Here was a chance to use its magic for good.
Billy Shipman is such a bully. He should get a taste of what it feels like to be bullied by someone bigger and stronger than him.
An angry yowling sound reached my ears as I quickly shoved the journal back in my pack so no one asked me about it. I scanned the hallway, but no one looked brave enough to have made the noise.
The outside doors flung open and all conversations stopped. I’d never seen the kid who came through the
doors before. He wore biker boots, jeans, and a leather jacket with a T-shirt underneath. His wallet was hooked to his studded belt with a chain. If Billy Shipman was big, this kid was humongous.
“Hey Shipman. What’re you doing picking on a runt?”
Billy let go of Zach, who slid down the wall.
Once Zach’s feet touched ground, he bolted.
The big kid reached Billy and shoved him in the chest. Billy slammed into the wall.
“Where were you?” He grabbed Billy by the shirt and hefted him in the air, just like Billy had done to Zach. “We got together and waited, but you were a no show.”
Excited murmurs broke out from those who hadn’t escaped the building.
“Do you see that ...?”
“Finally, Billy’s gettin’ it.”
“I—I c-c-can explain, Spike.” The color left Billy’s face.
Spike? What a name for the bully of the bully. It sounded like something you’d name your Pitbull.
Spike growled.
Maybe he was like a Pitbull gone bad.
His malice filled every crevice in the hallway. “No explanations. And no excuses.”
He pulled Billy off the wall, raised him even higher, and slammed him against it again. Billy’s head snapped back and banged the wall with a sickening thunk. Then Spike let go. Billy slid to the ground. He slumped against the wall, dazed.
A teacher poked his head outside the door. “Is there a problem here?”
Where had he been when Billy had Zach plastered against the wall?
Spike turned off his hostility, like someone flipped a switch, and the tension drained from the hall.
Billy shook his head and scrambled to his feet. “No problem. I tripped and fell.”
The teacher stared at Billy and Spike for a few moments, hands on hips. Then he turned, muttering the whole way, and went back into his room.
As soon as the door closed, Spike’s anger flared again. His voice quiet, he leaned in. “We’re not through, Billy-boy. I’ll see you at home.” The puffs of his breath caused Billy’s hair to jump with each word.
Spike was Billy’s brother?
Then Spike walked forward, his shoulder slamming Billy into the wall one last time. The sound of his boots rang out as he left the building.
Everyone froze. No one wanted to move and catch Billy’s attention. He might pick on someone just to show he was still in charge, not Spike. But no one looked away from him. It was like watching a wreck at the side of the road; not wanting to see the gore, but not being able to look away.
Billy surveyed the room and his face crumpled. “Quit staring at me.” He bolted toward the door, unshed tears tightening his voice.
Whoa. Not something I thought I’d ever see. I touched the journal in my bag. Powerful stuff.
I held my breath before opening the door for Science. I liked Mr. Delgado, but hated walking into his class each day. The smell coming from the jars of frogs swimming in formaldehyde made my stomach turn. If I had to describe it, I think I’d say it smelled like all of nature died. Or maybe it smelled like rotting zombie farts.
I took my seat and breathed through my mouth until my nose acclimated to the stench. If the smell filled the room when the lids were on tight, I shuddered to think how it would smell when we opened them and had to dissect the frogs.
My stomach rolled.
Even fairy farts smelled better than formaldehyde.
The room was divided in half with the desks closest to the hallway door and the lab tables in rows against the outside wall. A frog nose pressed against the glass jar on the lab table closest to me. Shudders ran up my spine. I didn’t want to dissect anything.
I wondered what it would take to get Mom to write a note saying dissection was against our religion. The school couldn’t make me do anything against religious beliefs, could they?
Mom would never write such a note, so I’d probably embarrass myself by throwing up or passing out as soon as I cut into the frog. Someone made perfectly good computerized programs on dissection, why couldn’t we use those instead of actual frogs?
Real frog dissection was a carryover from medieval times. No doubt it was a means of torture. You defied the King? It’s frog dissection for you!
I glanced at Mallory’s empty seat. She’d be the only reason I made it through this class.
Mallory couldn’t wait until Mr. Delgado started the chapters on dissection. She thought the digital dissection lacked reality. Although, she thought it would be good practice for the real thing.
Mr. Delgado breezed into the room. Dressed in a collared shirt and tie, with creased slacks, he wore his thick and wavy dark hair brushed back from his forehead, except one stubborn curl that fell forward when he moved a lot. His goatee framed his mouth, and his teeth gleamed when he smiled. His dark eyes crinkled slightly at the edges when he laughed and his cologne carried a hint of spice.
His cologne completely made up for the formaldehyde stench.
Mallory scurried into the room and dropped her books on the desk with a thud. I swore her stack of books got larger every day. Soon she’d be hunchbacked from carrying them around.
Mr. Delgado quickly called roll and used his hook to pull down a frog chart from the ceiling.
He picked up his pointer stick from the dry erase board tray and tapped the chart. “Today we’re going to learn how to make a frog sandwich.”
Ew. I pictured the frog in the jar between two pieces of bread with the rubbery legs sticking out the side. Even with mustard to mask it, gross.
Mr. Delgado looked me straight in the eyes and grinned. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.” He made his voice squeaky. “Ew, Mr. Delgado. That’s gross.”
My face flushed.
“Let me explain what I mean. First we’re going to start by reviewing the outer portion of the frog, or looking at the dorsal view.”
He pulled down another chart. “Next we’ll talk about the skeleton then the brain and nervous system, and so on.”
He put the frog skeleton chart back up. “Once we learn all the parts of the frog, we’ll know what we’re looking at when we dissect them.” He tapped the dorsal view chart with the pointer again. “Now let’s get started.”
Chairs scraped on the floor and papers rustled as everyone in the class got ready to take notes. I pulled out my notebook then grabbed the journal and sandwiched it between the pages.
“We’ll start with an easy one.” He slapped the pointer on the back leg of the frog picture. “Who can tell me what this is?”
Mallory’s hand shot into the air.
Mr. Delgado scanned the room. “Trey. What is it?”
Trey slid sideways in his chair and his tongue flicked his upper lip. “The back leg, Mr. Del.” He smirked at his buddies.
“And that answer will be wrong on the test.”
Half the hands in the air dropped.
“What?” Trey sat straight in his seat.
Mr. Delgado pointed to the back of the class. “Zach, can you tell us?”
“Hind limb?” Zach’s voice trailed up as if he wasn’t one-hundred percent certain.
Trey chuckled.
“You are correct.” Mr. Delgado clapped his hands together.
The smile left Trey’s face and he grumbled.
Mr. Delgado rested the pointer on the ground. “Do you have a problem with the answer, Trey?”
“Yeah. In fancy restaurants they serve frog legs, not hind limbs.”
Mr. Delgado rotated the stick between his palms. “Yes, you are correct. So if you’re in a restaurant, you can call them legs, but here in my science class, they are limbs or they are wrong. Most times you don’t order food in a restaurant by its scientific name.” He tapped the frog’s front limb. “Any guesses on what this is?”
Mallory’s hand remained high in the air, intent on catching Mr. Delgado’s attention.
I slipped the journal out from behind the pages so it looked like a part of the notebook while Sofia P�
�rez answered the question. I propped my head on my hand to read the entries and wondered how the journal worked.
The frog in the jar stared at me. Creepy.
I felt Mr. Delgado’s eyes on me. I needed to look like I was taking notes.
I don’t want to dissect frogs. I think it would be wonderful if the jar lids disappeared, and the formaldehyde turned to water, to stop the stink. And the frogs came to life. Then they could hop out of the jar and escape to the great outdoors and find a pond to live in.
“Who can tell me where the tympanic membrane is and what its function is?”
I glanced around the room. Everyone except Mallory dropped their hand. I thought the question should be Who wants to know? I faced front as Mr. Delgado called on Mallory.
The frog in the jar blinked at me.
Oh no. It took about a second and a half for the monstrosity of what had just happened to hit me. I had scribbled my fake notes in the journal. If I had written them in the notebook, nothing would be happening, except I’d be getting one class session closer to dissecting frogs.
But no, I had to screw up and write in the wrong book. Several frogs blinked and others flexed their fingers. I couldn’t catch my breath. Good grief ... what had I done?
My eyes widened when the jar lids disappeared. I sniffed. The air smelled fresher. Had my nose desensitized to the stench? The window nearest the lab tables was cracked open.
Mr. Delgado called on Mallory.
The frog gripped the top of the jar with his long, webbed fingers.
“The tympanic membrane is on the side of the head behind the eye, and its function is hearing.”
I heard Mallory answer the question, but the words sounded like gibberish as my heart beat rapidly and palms moistened while watching the frog pull up to the top of the jar. With his hind limbs, the frog gave a huge kick and landed on the table with a splat.
Sofia Pèrez jumped to her feet and screamed. More frogs hopped out.
Startled by her scream, Mr. Delgado rushed to Sofia. He had no idea what was wrong until a frog croaked. His head snapped back in surprise.
One frog kicked so hard to get out he knocked the jar over. Water spilled everywhere and the jar rolled slowly to the edge of the table.
The Journal of Angela Ashby Page 7