Crash.
The glass smashed as it hit the floor and shards flew everywhere.
Screams filled the air along with chairs and desks scraping on the floor as kids jumped to their feet. Frogs hopped across the lab tables with a squishy sound and the occasional ribbit and headed toward the window.
Mallory’s eyes looked like they would pop out and her jaw dropped. “Did you ...?”
The first frog made it to the window ledge and with a mighty leap jumped out the window, taking the screen with it to the ground. More kids screamed and some ran to the furthest corner of the room.
Like an itty bitty frog would hurt them.
The rest of the class seemed frozen in time. Afraid to move; maybe even afraid to breathe.
Mr. Delgado tried to regain control. “Quiet!” He held both arms in the air.
All the screams and chatter stopped. The thump-squish of frogs hopping toward freedom took the edge off the quiet. A mass exodus of no-longer-to-be-dissected frogs.
A lock of Mr. Delgado’s hair fell forward into his eyes. He whipped it back with his hand. “Class will now take place in the library. Please read the material about frog parts.”
He surveyed the wreckage of his classroom. “How?”
Mallory grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door. Hard.
As the rest of the class filed toward the outside doors, Mallory led me to the back.
She finally released my arm. “Angela Ashby, what did you do?”
“I didn’t mean to.” Well, not entirely. “It was an accident.”
“How could dead frogs coming back to life and making an escape be an accident?” Scorn dripped from her words.
“Because I thought I wrote those things in my notebook, but it was the journal.” I did forget, sort of. But I couldn’t feel bad about reanimating the frogs. They had a second chance at life, and I didn’t have to cut them open. Win-win in my book.
Mallory covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath. When she finally dropped her arms, she pinned me with a glare. “You need to be careful about what you write in the journal, Angela. How is Mr. Delgado going to explain the frog resurrection? It’s not like it will be a secret.”
Oh, I didn’t think about that. How would he explain the obvious dead hopping away? I’m surprised someone didn’t start screaming about killer zombie frogs.
Mr. Delgado came to the door and put his hands on his hips. “You girls are supposed to be in the library.”
“Yes, Mr. Delgado.”
We hurried out of the building.
Chapter Twelve - After School
At the end of school, Mallory and I went back to the athletic field. Tatiana flitted around the bushes like a hummingbird. We stopped and watched her. Amazing. Seeing a fairy zipping around school made my brain feel like it had skipped a gear. I couldn’t believe she was still here.
Why hadn’t she disappeared? Did it mean fairies really exist?
When she spied us, she zoomed straight to Mallory.
“You came back.” She sighed. “I’m so happy.”
Mallory blushed. “I told you I’d be back.”
“I thought you lied so you could ditch me.” She shook her finger in Mallory’s face. “I expected to have to hunt you down.”
Mallory held her hand out, palm up, for Tatiana to land on. “I keep my promises.”
“You should have been here earlier, Mallory. A frog pilgrimage passed by.”
Mallory shot me a frown, her eyes glaring at me over the top of her specs. What did she expect me to do? She knew I couldn’t reverse what had been written in the journal because Tatiana was still here.
Tatiana sank to a sitting position. “I tried to find out where they were headed, but they wouldn’t stop. Poor things looked dry, so I gave them a little rain cloud for their travels.”
What a weird and eerie sight it must have been—a trail of previously dead frogs hopping along with a low-flying cloud raining on them. It’s a good thing no one had wandered out on the athletic field during class.
“Then a black cat jumped out of the bushes and tried to pounce on the frogs, but I turned the rain cloud into a thunder cloud and shot lightning at it.” Tatiana’s squeaky voice sounded indignant. “The cat dove back into the bushes after it hissed at me.”
“Um, sorry we missed it.” Mallory crossed her legs and sank to the ground in a fluid motion, causing Tatiana’s wings to flutter. “I’ve been reading about malachite and its properties. It’s very interesting.”
When had she had time since this morning to do more reading about her crystal?
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that ... I looked it up when we were in the library after you set the frogs free.”
I sank down next to her. Typical. Mallory couldn’t stand not to know something. So when the rest of us were pretending to read about frogs, she looked up crystals instead.
“You let the frogs go, Angela? You’re the best.” Tatiana practically swooned.
Mallory sighed. “Anyway, malachite has been used for thousands of years for healing, protection, drawing out negative emotions, and clarifying intention.” She ticked the uses off on her fingers. “I’m sure that’s why Madame Vadoma gave it to me.”
“What’s why?” I didn’t see how that explained anything.
“She gave you the journal for a reason. I’m not sure what that is yet, but she must have known you’d need some help, especially with intention.” She settled her glasses firmly on her nose. “Like with the frogs ... It’s also supposed to help with shyness and timidity.”
If it could cure Mallory of being timid it would be quite some stone.
Some kids passed by the opening to the field and Mallory quickly lowered her hand into her lap to hide Tatiana from the passersby.
“Wheeeee!” Tatiana stood and crawled onto Mallory’s leg. “That was fun.”
Mallory glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one paid any attention to us. “Do you know whether we’re the only ones who can see you?”
Tatiana’s laughter sounded like wind chimes tinkling. “Of course not, silly. Most people think I’m an exotic bird. They can’t wrap their minds around seeing a fairy.”
Seeing a fairy did take a little getting used to.
Mallory held her hand out. “Hop on.” Then she unzipped her backpack and moved the hand with Tatiana toward the opening. “Climb in. I don’t want anyone to recognize you as a fairy, and it will look strange if I have an exotic bird following me home.”
Tatiana stiffened and flew off Mallory’s hand. “But I’m afraid of the dark.” Her voice rose even higher. “And I don’t like being put in enclosed places.”
Mallory grimaced and waved her hand in front of her face, then climbed to her feet. “Okay, calm down. I need a way to get you home with me safely.”
Astonished, I stared at Mallory. I thought Tatiana irritated her, especially since she’d let off another stink-bomb.
“Hmmm.” Tatiana tapped her finger against her cheek. “I know. I’ll hide under your hair and sit on your shoulder.” She ran up Mallory’s arm and dived into her hair. “Can you see me, Angela?”
Mallory spun in a slow circle for me.
“Pull your wings in, Tatiana.”
The wings folded and slipped into the hair.
“Okay, you’re hidden.” Good thing Mallory had thick long hair.
Mallory giggled. “Quit moving your wings. They tickle.” She scooped up her pack. “Let’s go.”
Mom’s car was in the driveway when I reached home. Despite Mallory’s assurances that everything would be okay with Mom’s new job, I hesitated on the porch before grabbing the door handle. Would I walk in to find her crying again?
Taking a deep breath, I clicked the latch and opened the door a crack. The smell of fresh baked cookies overwhelmed me.
Relief. Happiness sent Mom into the kitchen to bake. If anything bad happened with the new job, she wouldn’t be baking.
I
swung the door all the way open. “Mom, I’m home.”
“Just in time, Angela. I took the cookies out of the oven two minutes ago.” Her voice lilted with delight. “Your favorite—chocolate-chocolate chip. Hurry and put your things away.”
I rushed to my room, dropped my bag on the bed, and flew back down the stairs.
Nothing beat warm cookies and ice-cold milk as an after-school treat.
I took a bite and enjoyed the slight crunch of the cooling cookie followed by the liquid chocolate of the melted chips. Mom hadn’t baked in a long time.
She put a cookie on a napkin, grabbed her coffee, and joined me at the table. “How was your day?”
“Never mind my day.” I would never be able to explain my day in a million years. “What happened with your job?”
She grinned. “I met my new boss first. She’s wonderful.”
Her coffee aroma mingled with the sweet scent of the cookie.
“She showed me around the office and told me my hours would be flexible. And I’d be able to work from home, but will come into the office as needed.”
Work from home? A smile spread across my face.
“I thought you’d like that. I’ll have to go into the office for the first two weeks though.” She raised the cup to her lips and gently blew.
“Then I went to Human Resources and they explained the benefits and gave me the salary information.” She beamed. “I’ll be making about a third more than before and the benefits are much, much better.”
Bubbles of joy rose in me. “Fantastic, Mom. I’m so happy for you.”
She broke off a piece of cookie. “Now, tell me about your day.”
I stared at Mom’s thimble collection on the wall and my mind scrambled for something to talk about. I couldn’t start babbling about gnomes, unicorns, and farting fairies, not to mention a reanimated dead frog parade complete with low-flying rain cloud.
She’d think I’d lost my mind.
“Um, Cynthia tried picking on me today before school. With no one else around, she thought she could intimidate me.”
Mom raised her eyebrows. “Have you tried being nice to her? She’s probably jealous of your friendship with Mallory and wants to be friends.”
I rolled my eyes. “She sure has a strange way of showing it. How can I be nice when she calls me names all the time?” Mom didn’t understand how nasty Cynthia could be. “She starts it.”
“But you don’t have to finish it. Try making her your friend, Angela.”
Why would I want such a horrible person as my friend? I needed to change the subject. My eyes stopped on the pewter thimble with the moose on top.
“Billy Shipman picked on Zach Taylor again today.” Billy was like a bull moose compared to Zach. “But then a bigger boy than Billy came in and picked on him.”
Oops. I shouldn’t talk about Spike because I might slip and say something about the journal. “But a teacher came out and the other boy left.”
Mom’s forehead wrinkled in the middle like it always did when she was concerned. “Good. I don’t like all the bullying going on at your school.”
Who did? Well, except the bullies. Although, after today, I wasn’t sure Billy Shipman thought so. And if Spike and Billy were brothers, maybe he got bullied more than I thought. I ate the last cookie and drained my milk.
“Thanks for the cookies, Mom.”
Her face softened. “You’re welcome, sweetie. I know it’s been awhile, but things are going to be better from now on. I feel as if we’ve turned a corner.”
I got up and hugged her. “I’m glad. You deserve some happiness for a change.”
“Aw, thank you.” She squeezed me tight. “You do too, you know.” She patted my back and let go. “Your dad is going to take you out to dinner tomorrow night to make up for missing his time with you this weekend.”
I froze. “I don’t want to go.”
She smoothed the bangs off my forehead. “He’s making an effort. Give him a chance.”
Yeah, right. “He’s making the effort? Or you’re making him?”
Mom must have badgered Dad about making things right. She always did. If he didn’t want to see me without being hounded into it, then I didn’t want to see him.
“He wants to explain to you what happened on Sunday. He feels bad about not picking you up.”
I took a step back. “Because you guilted him into it.”
Mom rubbed the crease between her brows like she had a headache. “I was angry with him on Sunday because he upset you. But once he explained, I understood. Give him the chance to explain it to you too.”
“I guess I don’t have a choice.” I crossed my arms.
“Angela.” Her tone turned sharp. “He’s still your father.”
“Not much of one. I never see him anymore.”
“And he’s trying to change that. Please Angela, just go to dinner and hear what he has to say.”
Mom sounded exhausted. What happened to the happy bubbles she had when I got home? Had I argued them out of her?
“Fine. I’ll go to dinner with him.”
She gave me a weak smile.
My history homework wouldn’t wait any longer. If I didn’t get it finished, I’d fail. Mr. Harris didn’t accept late assignments. If you didn’t turn it in on the right day, he gave you a zero. I’d finished most of the reading, but hadn’t answered the questions yet.
It wasn’t fair. Pandora’s story should have been English homework, not history. But the school combined history with social studies and decided the study of myths belonged in social studies. If we studied the myths in English, Mrs. Clark would make it interesting.
Pandora would walk out of the book and stroll through the classroom practicing her wiles. Prometheus would be in a huddle of kids dreaming up devilry.
Mr. Harris just barked out facts and expected you to remember them. He made Greek Gods boring. And now I had to answer questions.
At least the first question wasn’t hard. In what country does the story of Pandora take place? Duh. It’s Greek mythology. I scribbled my answer.
Who were Pandora’s parents? Ha. Trick question. She didn’t have any.
The corner of the journal showed in the backpack opening. I reached toward it.
Ping. A chat message from Mallory.
How R U? What R U doing?
I grabbed the keyboard.
Homework. Ugh.
Mallory’s status changed to typing.
I promised T I’d show her how chat worked.
T? T, who?
It took me a minute to figure out she meant Tatiana.
How is she doing?
Fine. Stinky. I’m going to have to sleep with the window open.
The cursor blinked for a moment then Mallory began typing again.
I blame you and your journal, just so you know.
I drummed my fingers briefly on the desk.
Speaking of the journal, I thought about writing that my homework was already finished. Just to see what would happen.
As soon as I hit send, Mallory’s status changed to typing.
You’d cheat?
Even though we were on chat, I heard Mallory’s outrage in my head.
T told me she’d finish my homework with some fairy dust, but I wouldn’t let her.
Trust Mallory to stand on the moral high ground.
But what if I wrote that no teachers would assign homework for the rest of the year?
Immediately after I hit send, my computer shut down. What the heck happened? It was like someone had pulled the plug out of the socket. But the cord was firmly plugged in at both ends.
After checking over my shoulder to make sure I was still alone in my room, I turned the machine back on and waited for it to boot up. Freaky.
As soon as I was back online, I chatted Mallory.
I’m back.
The cursor blinked for a few moments.
I gotta go, but Angela, please don’t write about no homework.
&n
bsp; I felt like Mallory wanted to say more, but didn’t.
K. Better get back to it then.
See you tomorrow.”
Mallory’s status went to offline.
I glanced at the journal again. No homework for the rest of the year was a brilliant idea. And several kids would thank me, if they only knew. Of course, I couldn’t tell them. Would it really hurt?
Then Tatiana came to mind. I couldn’t make her go away when Mallory begged me to. And using the journal to get out of homework might be stretching the whole, ‘use it wisely’ thing.
Maybe I should just finish my homework.
Why did Zeus command Hephaistos to create Pandora? Mr. Harris would probably blow a gasket if I put my real answer. Zeus was a whiny crybaby who wanted everything to go his way.
Mrs. Clark would let me answer that way, but she’d make me expand and tell her why Zeus whined.
With a sigh, I finished answering all the questions.
Then I pulled the journal out. It couldn’t hurt to write my thoughts about what happened today, could it? It’s not every day a girl sees a gnome, pets a unicorn, sets previously dead frogs on a pilgrimage, and conjures up a farting fairy. I chuckled. Even the memory of Mallory’s face when she smelled the farts made me laugh.
And it might help me to write my feelings about dinner tomorrow night with Dad. Even though I agreed to go, I did it to make Mom happy, not because I wanted to.
I filled several pages before putting the journal aside and calling it a night.
Chapter Thirteen - Cynthia Lashes Out
I clumped down the stairs in the morning to find Mom pouring coffee. When she set the pot down, it clanked against the warming plate. She’s lucky it didn’t break.
“Morning, sweetie. Toaster waffles?” She pulled the box out of the freezer.
“Sure.”
She plunked a couple in the toaster and pressed the lever. I grabbed a glass of orange juice and went out to the table.
The Journal of Angela Ashby Page 8