The Journal of Angela Ashby

by Liana Gardner

  Mom sipped her coffee in the kitchen. She stared off into space. Then a couple minutes later shook her head and took another sip of coffee.

  I went back into the kitchen. No fragrance of waffles greeted me. I felt the toaster. Stone cold.

  “Uh, Mom?” I held up the cord. “They’d probably toast faster if this was plugged in.” I put the plug in the socket.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  I shrugged and leaned against the counter to wait. “No biggie. So what’s wrong?”

  Mom poured some more coffee and missed the cup. The hot, brown liquid splashed the side of the coffeemaker and ran down the counter and over the edge.

  “Oh.” I grabbed some paper towels and threw them on the floor where the coffee had pooled.

  “How much sleep did you get last night?” I picked up the cup, topped it with coffee, and handed it to Mom. “You go sit at the table. I’ll clean this up while my waffles cook.”

  “You didn’t make the mess, so you shouldn’t have to clean it up.” Mom looked upset.

  “Don’t worry. Think of all the messes I’ve made. I owe you one or two.” I grinned. “Or you can owe me. Just go sit down. I’ve got it.”

  I planted my hands in the middle of her back and gave her a push. It took me a couple minutes to clean up the mess and by that time my waffles were done.

  “What’s up with you this morning?” I plunked my plate on the table.

  “I’m a little nervous about starting this new job. I’m afraid they won’t like my work, or it will take me too long to get acclimated.” She rubbed her forehead. “I know I’m being ridiculous, but this job means so much to me. I want everything to work out well.”

  “Just go and do your best and they’ll love you.” I slathered the waffle in butter and watched it melt.

  “How did you get to be so smart?”

  I winked. “I must take after my Mom.”

  “Do you mind if I take you to school a little early again today? I want to make sure I’m there without having to stress about traffic.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t mind.”

  I waited for Mallory in my usual morning spot on the edge of the planter. The black cat marched along the ledge. It seemed to hang out at school a lot. Mallory trotted up the school’s front steps. I waved. She grinned and headed in my direction.

  She made it halfway when Cynthia burst out of the bathroom and cut her off.

  “Have a nice trip, Mallory.” She pushed Mallory in the back and stuck her foot in front of Mallory’s ankle.

  Tatiana swung out clutching a hunk of Mallory’s hair. Her rainbow wings glinted in the early morning sun. Mallory lost her grip on her books and her glasses skittered across the concrete.

  I jumped to my feet. I didn’t know whether to help Mallory or punch Cynthia first. That was totally uncalled for.

  But Mrs. Clark stormed toward Cynthia, who laughed at Mallory as she landed on the ground.

  When Mallory hit the ground, Tatiana scrambled back under her hair and her wings disappeared from view. Hopefully no one noticed a fairy in a lavender dress swinging like Tarzan from Mallory’s head.

  Mrs. Clark pointed her finger in Cynthia’s face. “You stay right here.” Then she helped Mallory to her feet.

  Her palms bled where the concrete had scratched them

  “Are you all right, dear?” Mrs. Clark patted Mallory on the back.

  I hoped Tatiana stayed securely against Mallory’s neck. She’d be difficult to explain. Even to Mrs. Clark.

  Mallory nodded.

  “You.” Mrs. Clark turned an angry face to Cynthia. “Pick up those books and apologize.”

  Mrs. Clark would take care of Cynthia, but I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Especially when she’d hurt Mallory and Tatiana could have been squished. I pulled the journal out.

  Cynthia Benson is so mean. She deserves to have humongous warts erupt all over her big nose. And they should burn.

  I slammed the journal shut and the cat hissed and arched its back, its eyes flashing. Then I picked up Mallory’s glasses.

  Cynthia concentrated on picking up all Mallory’s books, which had scattered across the concrete spilling papers everywhere. After putting the English book in the bag, Cynthia rubbed her nose. She grabbed another book and rubbed her nose again.

  I felt a chuckle forming in my stomach and tried to keep the smile off my face. When Cynthia stood, the beginning of a wart grew smack on the end of her nose.

  She finished picking up the books and shoved the bag in Mallory’s trembling hands. “Sorry you’re such a klutz.” Mallory nearly fell over again.

  “Young lady we have a date with Mr. Lassiter. Let’s go.” Mrs. Clark held her arm out toward the office.

  Cynthia clutched her nose and howled. “My nose huuuurrrts.”

  Mrs. Clark took a step closer to her. “We’ll check your nose after you see the vice principal. Tripping another student is unacceptable.”

  Cynthia’s voice muffled as she tightly pinched her nose. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Mrs. Clark closed the gap between them. “You have injured another student and ...”

  “Back off.” Cynthia shoved Mrs. Clark on the shoulders with both hands.

  My eyes widened and I watched in horror as Mrs. Clark took a step back and tried to steady herself. But the heel of her shoe broke and she fell to the ground.

  I ran to Mrs. Clark. Mallory and I helped her to her feet.

  She reached out and grabbed Cynthia’s shoulder. “We’re going to see the vice principal. Now.”

  Mrs. Clark clumped off with an unsteady gait because she wore only one shoe, and pulled Cynthia with her. Then she kicked her shoe off, grabbing it as it spiraled through the air and didn’t miss a step.

  I didn’t think I could admire her more than I already did. I was wrong.

  Cynthia complained bitterly about her nose the entire way.

  “Are you okay?” I picked up one of Mallory’s homework papers Cynthia missed and handed it to her along with her glasses.

  “My hands sting a bit, but they should be okay.”

  I lowered my voice. “And how about you, Tatiana?”

  “You can call me T.”

  It seemed strange to hear her chirpy, little voice coming out from Mallory’s hair. I mouthed ‘T’ at Mallory, who rolled her eyes. She’d tell me later.

  Mallory’s hair rustled as Tatiana paced. “Who is that battle-ax, Mallory? I think I need to mix her up a little potion.”

  Mallory took a deep breath and sighed. “No, Tatiana ... I mean T.”

  We walked toward the athletic field followed by the black cat. I didn’t see it hanging out with any of the other kids, so it seemed to have adopted us.

  After peering at her glasses, Mallory slid them into place. “Mrs. Clark will take care of Cynthia. She’s gonna be in enough trouble without you making a potion. Remember, we talked about no magic.”

  I clutched Mallory’s arm. “I can’t believe T does magic and you’re not letting her.”

  She pushed her glasses firmly back into place. “I think we need to be cautious with magic, and make sure we think through the consequences before using it.”

  She turned fierce eyes on me. “And we have enough magic with your journal. Just think what would have happened if the gnome and the unicorn hadn’t disappeared on their own. At least T is small enough to hide and not half the size of an elephant.”

  She reached up to her shoulder and placed Tatiana on a bush. “And look what happened with your mom. The first thing you wrote cost her a job.”

  I choked down my guilt. “But I got a better one for her.” Couldn’t Mallory see the bright side of things?

  “You were lucky you could.” She narrowed her eyes. “What did you do to Cynthia’s nose?”

  I giggled. I couldn’t help it. “I couldn’t let her get away with hurting you, so I gave her humongous, burning warts.”

  Mallory’s brow furrowed an
d her mouth opened in a big O. “Don’t you understand you made things worse? Because of the warts, she pushed Mrs. Clark and made her fall.”

  I shrugged. “But she’ll be in more trouble. Mrs. Clark looked okay. Well, except her shoe.”

  “But it shouldn’t have happened.”

  “I wasn’t going to stand by and let Cynthia bully you.”

  Tatiana flew up and perched on Mallory’s head. “I’m with Angela on this one. We both could have been hurt. Someone needed to do something.”

  She flew to me and held her arm outstretched. “High five.”

  I tapped my index finger against her palm.

  She giggled. “Oops. Excuse me. Fairy farts.” She zoomed away.

  I braced myself for the stench, but it didn’t come. “What did you do? She doesn’t stink so much today.” I put my hands on my hips. “I thought you said no magic.”

  “I didn’t use magic. I used an air sanitizer.” Her eyes sparkled. “I drenched my dad’s old handkerchief in it then cut it up and made a lining for T’s dress.”

  Only Mallory would come up with a solution like air sanitizers.

  “And T and I are working together to discover what is causing her flatulence problem. We’re trying different foods and recording the results.”

  What a science geek. And one of the reasons she was my best friend. I loved how she knew there had to be an answer and wouldn’t give up until she figured it out.

  The bell rang and Tatiana sped back to us. I swear she had a sparkly trail behind her. “I’ll wait here for you, M. You and A have fun in class.”

  As we walked toward the buildings, I nudged Mallory. “So what is with T and M and A?”

  Mallory shrugged. “She thought it was funny when I called her T last night on chat because I didn’t want to type her full name. And ever since, she’s insisted upon T.”

  I laughed. “Fairies are funny. I’m glad you two are getting along.”

  “Yeah. Once I figured out how to destinkify her, things got a lot better. It is kinda cool being the only one around to have a fairy.”

  Chapter Fourteen - Unintended Consequences

  I arrived in English to find a sub, Mr. Farber, standing at the front of the room. What if Mrs. Clark was more hurt than I thought? Would it be my fault?

  Taking my seat, I watched as my classmates filed in the room. When they saw Mr. Farber, they whispered to their nearest neighbor, so it sounded like a room full of leaking beach balls.

  The hissing stopped when Mr. Farber called the class to order. He and Mrs. Clark were complete opposites. While she dressed conservatively, usually wearing a suit each day, Mr. Farber looked like he just came in from the beach, with his baggy pants, docksides with no socks and collared Hawaiian print shirt worn open over a T-shirt. He even wore sunglasses on top of his head. But opposite to their dress, Mrs. Clark allowed us freedom, where it was rumored Mr. Farber had regulations for his rules.

  Complete silence filled the room, except for the occasional creaking chair. Mr. Farber did a military style roll call, barking out each name and expecting an immediate response. With a last name of Ashby, I answered first then relaxed through the remainder.

  The door screeched open and an office assistant walked up to Mr. Farber and handed him a note. He frowned at the interruption as he opened the folded paper.

  “Angela Ashby.”

  My spine straightened and I caught my breath.

  “Please take your things and go to the office.”

  Whispers and suppressed laughter rippled through the room.

  “But I didn’t do anything. Why do they want me?” My stomach clenched.

  Mr. Farber gave the note back to the office girl. “It doesn’t matter why. And the note didn’t say. Please take your things and leave so we can continue the class without further interruption.”

  All eyes in the room were fixed on me as I picked up my books and shoved them in my backpack. How embarrassing. I couldn’t get out the door fast enough. But once in the hall, my steps slowed. I dreaded reaching my destination.

  The office girl walked ahead of me and turned back to make sure I still followed.

  I did.

  Slowly.

  She stopped halfway across the quad. “They do want you there today, you know.” She huffed and started off again.

  My stomach knotted and with each step it lurched a little more.

  The door to the office clanged shut behind me with such finality, the only thing missing was the sign from Dante’s Inferno.

  Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

  I certainly felt like the hope had been sucked right out of me.

  Mallory sat outside the principal’s office, head down and dejected, she looked miserable.

  As I approached, she raised her head and opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, the door to the office opened.

  “Angela, please come in.”

  The office, though large, felt claustrophobic. Too many people inside. Mr. Lassiter and Mrs. Murphy, the principal, sat behind the desk and in front of the desk to the left was Cynthia and her parents and to the right, Mrs. Clark.

  My stomach did another roll. This didn’t seem to be a good thing at all. Mrs. Clark looked frightened, and Cynthia smirked. It should be the other way around.

  Mr. Lassiter pointed to the only vacant chair. “Have a seat, Angela. We want to ask you a few questions.”

  I felt for the chair with my arm and edged into it, not taking my eyes off Mr. Lassiter.

  Mrs. Murphy leaned forward. “There’s no reason to be afraid, Angela. We need to ask you some questions about what happened this morning.”

  I nodded, my eyes widening.

  “Now, this morning before school, did you see Mrs. Clark grab Cynthia?”

  “Yes, but ...”

  “Ha.” Cynthia’s dad rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms.

  The smile on his face made him look like a shark getting ready to chomp its prey.

  Cynthia’s mom stared straight ahead. “My poor baby.” Her tone was deadpan.

  Did she even care? And Cynthia was no one’s poor baby. She was a terror.

  My heart sank. Mrs. Clark wouldn’t look at me.

  “Wait a minute.” My voice rose in desperation to set the record straight. “Let me finish.”

  Mrs. Murphy folded her hands. “No need to worry, Angela. You’ve told us what we needed to know.”

  “No, I haven’t.” I stood, knocking the chair back. “You didn’t ask the right question. You should have asked me why.”

  Unfallen tears choked me for a moment. “You didn’t ask me about what happened to Mallory. How Cynthia tripped her for no reason.” My indignation rose. “On purpose.”

  I swallowed to clear my throat. “And Mrs. Clark came to help Mallory and Cynthia pushed her. She fell, ruining her shoe. Then, because Cynthia refused to come to the office, she took her by the shoulder.”

  I glanced at Mrs. Clark. A glint appeared in her eye and the ghost of a smile crossed her lips.

  “What was she supposed to do? Allow Cynthia to beat up Mallory and attack a teacher because she didn’t want to go to the office?”

  Mr. Lassiter held his hands up. “Now Angela, calm down.”

  “How can I calm down when you’re trying to ...” What was the word Mrs. Clark had taught us that meant forcing someone to do something they didn’t want to? Oh, yeah. “... to railroad Mrs. Clark into admitting she did something wrong by protecting Mallory?”

  Mr. Lassiter rose from his chair, but Mrs. Murphy tapped her pencil on the desk and he sank down again.

  She fixed me with her gaze. “Angela, we’re not trying to railroad anyone. We are gathering the facts so we can properly assess the situation.” Her voice took on a soothing tone. “Thank you for sharing your information with us. Now, please take a seat outside the office, in case we have more questions for you.”

  Dismissed.

  As I left, I glanced at Cynthia. Even the si
ght of the three huge warts on her nose didn’t bring me any joy. At least she didn’t look as confident as when I walked in.

  She glowered at me and mouthed the words ‘I’ll get you.’

  Did she think no one else saw her mouth moving? I glanced around the room before walking out. Maybe she had a point—no one paid any attention to us.

  I slumped into the chair next to Mallory and dropped my backpack on the ground.

  Mallory stared at her feet. “I feel awful. They wouldn’t let me say anything about Cynthia starting it.”

  I patted her shoulder. “They tried to do the same thing to me, but I told them anyway.”

  “Now do you understand what you caused by giving Cynthia warts? Mrs. Clark could lose her job.”

  I pulled my hand from her shoulder. “You’re blaming me?”

  The secretary looked in our direction. Oops. I forgot where we were.

  I lowered my voice and hissed. “Cynthia’s the one who pushed her.”

  “You need to remember, Angela ... ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’”

  “Spiderman?” I couldn’t believe Mallory had quoted from a comic book.

  She gave me a withering stare. “Voltaire.”

  The door opened and Mrs. Murphy poked her head out.

  “Mallory? Please join us again.”

  Mallory jumped in her seat and popped up. She walked stiff-legged into the office as if she were on her way to face a firing squad.

  The door barely closed before I pulled out my journal. I needed to do damage control. I couldn’t undo Cynthia’s warts or her reaction to them, but I might be able to help influence things in Mrs. Clark’s favor. She didn’t deserve to be in trouble for helping Mallory.

  Please let all the adults understand Mrs. Clark was doing her job. She protected Mallory from being bullied and didn’t do anything wrong. She needs the school to understand and support her. Cynthia was out of control and had to be stopped.

  I stopped writing. A small voice inside me asked the question I didn’t want to know the answer to. Did Cynthia rampage out of control because of what I had done?

  I stared at the words and tried to think of ways they might go wrong, because everything else I wrote in the journal seemed to. Except the gnome and unicorn, and they disappeared. I hoped my words would be enough to counteract the damage already done. I closed the journal and shoved it back in my pack.