Our food arrived. A plate of beef teriyaki and tempura sizzled in front of me. Dad’s plate had a bunch of different fish things on rice blocks, and a couple round rice things with stuff in the center and a glob of green stuff on the side. No heat rising from his plate at all. And definitely not appetizing to me.
I forked a chunk of hot meat and put it in my mouth. The flavor made my tongue happy. Sweet with a little tang. Yummy.
Dad poured soy sauce into a flat dish and put some green stuff in it and swirled it around with the ends of his chopsticks. He waved his hand over his tray. “Would you like to try?”
I wrinkled my nose. “No, thanks.” After crunching a piece of shrimp tempura, I took a deep breath. I needed to talk to someone about what happened today. I couldn’t talk about the journal, of course. Dad might think I’d lost my mind if I told him about it. He didn’t believe in anything unless he could see and touch it.
“That bully I told you about, tripped Mallory today for no reason, and when a teacher tried to help and told Cynthia she had to go to the office, Cynthia pushed the teacher.” The words tumbled out with a will of their own.
“The teacher took her by the arm and escorted her to the office, and now the teacher is in trouble because Cynthia’s parents claimed the teacher shouldn’t have touched her. It’s not fair.” Guilt slid into my stomach because I didn’t mention the warts I put on Cynthia’s nose. But Dad wouldn’t understand.
Dad lowered the sushi back to the tray. “The teacher is in trouble for stopping the bully? There has to be more to it than that.”
“There isn’t. I told you it’s complicated.” I took another sip of tea. “When Billy Shipman tripped and fell on Zach during lunch, he blamed Zach. Then Billy kicked him and probably cracked his ribs.”
Another guilt pang hit me because Billy wouldn’t have fallen on Zach if I hadn’t made him trip on the planter. But he’d have picked on Zach anyway. “A teacher stood nearby, but she pretended she didn’t see what happened because she didn’t want to get into trouble like Mrs. Clark did.”
Dad took a bite of his sushi and leaned in. “What happened to Zach?”
And then it felt like old times when Dad would come home from work, and we’d chat about our day. I talked to Mom about things, but she never forgot she was a parent and had to point out when things were wrong or right. With Dad it was like talking to a friend. Not quite the same as Mallory, but close. I found myself telling him all the events of the day.
Well, all the events except for Tatiana and the journal. By the time I finished, we were done with our meal and Dad paid the check.
We walked toward the exit and Dad put his arm across my shoulders. “I’ve missed our talks, Angela. And I’m sorry I don’t get to see you as often.”
“Whose fault is that?” The words snapped out before I could stop them.
“Honey, don’t. We’ve just had a nice night. Let’s not ruin it.”
We got in the car and he started it up. “I know you’re worried about what happened with Mallory. But you girls have been friends for too long. You’ll make up soon.”
I danced around why Mallory wasn’t speaking to me because I couldn’t mention the journal, but I told him we got in an argument.
I expected Dad to leave once I hopped out of the car. Instead, he turned off the engine and got out. Maybe Mom wanted to talk to him. I didn’t stop to ask. Part of me didn’t want to know.
I had a big enough mess to straighten out without inviting disaster by getting in the middle of a conversation between them. It never ended well.
Upstairs, I opened my bedroom door only to jump when Malachite mewed at me. My heart raced. How the heck did she get in my bedroom? I scooped her up. I’d better shut the door before Mom knew a stray cat had wandered inside. Although, Malachite didn’t strike me as a stray and had never wandered a single moment since I had met her.
Instead of closing it all the way, I left the door a crack open so I’d know when Dad left.
I flopped on the bed and let my legs dangle over the side. Malachite crawled out of my arms and curled up beside me. It irritated Mallory when I used the journal to change things. Maybe I should stop writing in it. From what I could tell, most of the time when I wrote in it, things got all muffed up anyway, so what was the point?
I recalled Madame Vadoma’s words to me. Use it wisely. Obviously, I hadn’t. And if it was supposed to give me great power, it sure didn’t feel like it.
I meant to do something good by stopping Billy and Cynthia from hurting others. So why did it backfire?
Muffled voices drifted up the stairs.
I grabbed my teddy bear, Darlington, and tossed him in the air. He turned cartwheels and dropped back into my hands while Malachite tracked him the whole way.
Maybe if I told Mallory I wouldn’t write in the journal anymore, she’d talk to me again. I hated when she was mad at me. But could I give up the journal? I couldn’t give it to anyone else. And what a waste to let it just sit on a shelf. Besides, what if Mom read it?
I tossed Darlington up again. Mom didn’t snoop intentionally, but if it were here, it could happen. Maybe Mallory would agree to us deciding the journal entries together. Then she couldn’t get angry about what I put down, because she agreed to it.
What happened during lunchtime with Billy Shipman wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, Mallory faced him down and got half the kids in school to rally around her and chase him off. I think she liked Zach and didn’t like him getting picked on. So it was a good thing she stuck up for him. Maybe he’d pay more attention to her now.
The voices below got louder. Mom’s broke through and I heard every word.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell her.”
Fighting again. Over something Dad didn’t tell me tonight. He murmured something I couldn’t make out.
“She’s going to be showing soon. Is that how you want her to find out?” Disgust colored Mom’s words.
Find out what? I sat up.
And what would I be showing? The argument didn’t even make sense. Maybe I didn’t hear Mom right.
“Nothing is ever good enough for you. You wanted me to make things better with Angela, and I did. Now you’re not happy because I didn’t break the fragile bridge I built tonight.”
When Dad yelled we were about five seconds from the slamming door.
“Greg, you’re impossible. You never accept responsibility.”
“How long am I going to have to hear it, Eva?
“Until you grow up.”
“Arrgh.” Thud.
Vibrations tickled my feet. Dad hit the wall? He never hit anything, even when they were going through the worst of the divorce.
“Greg, you’re bleeding.” Mom sounded panicky.
“I’ll be fine, Eva.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll come over Saturday and patch the wall.”
“You wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t decided to put your fist through it.”
Slam.
And there it went. End of argument by slamming door. Why couldn’t I have parents that got along ... like Mallory’s?
I heard the unmistakable sounds of Mom crying, even though she tried to keep it quiet.
When they split, I thought things might get better. Tonight was worse.
The journal lay on the shelf, tempting me.
I licked my lips as I contemplated it. The urge to write in it became irresistible. I sat up.
One last journal entry and then I’d make things better with Mallory tomorrow.
I flipped through the pages to the first blank one. This was too important to lose on a page with everything else. Malachite leaped from the bed to the desk and sat facing me. She meowed.
Hand trembling, I picked up the pen.
More than anything in the world, I want my parents to stop fighting and be nice to each other. Why can’t they remember all the reasons they fell in love in the first place?
I hesitated. I knew what I wanted to write, but it mean
t someone would get hurt. Holly. But since she didn’t care when she took Dad away, should I care if she got hurt? If this was going to be my last entry, I might as well do it up big.
I want Dad to sweep Mom off her feet. I want them to get along so well, Dad forgets about Holly. They start dating, get back together, and we become a family again. And they’ll never fight or break apart ever.
The pen clattered against the desk as it fell from my fingers. Malachite hissed and arched her back. I stared at the entry. What had I just done? A bubble of guilt churned my stomach. But an even bigger bubble of happiness filled me, squashing the guilt.
My parents were going to get back together. We’d be a family again.
Chapter Nineteen - Explosion
I surfaced from my dream, heart racing and gasping for air. Perspiration beaded my forehead and pooled at the base of my neck. I sat up and took a few calming breaths. What a horrid dream.
It began nicely enough. I had dreamed about my family becoming one again and Mom and Dad being nice to each other and so in love they would never break up again. Malachite had been in the dream too. At first she had been friendly. Mom had agreed I could keep her, so Malachite became a member of the family and we’d go out walking together ... she was my companion everywhere I went.
Then, against a stark white background, I saw Mom and Dad on one side, making lovey dovey eyes at each other, and Holly stood on the other side, alone and crying. Her tears turned into a river with Mom and Dad on one side of it and me on the other. Because they were too busy making eyes at each other, they had forgotten I existed and didn’t care I had been trapped on the other side of the river.
At my back stood a deep, dark forest. Malachite grew until she reached the size of a panther. She snarled and growled, baring her teeth which had grown into fangs.
I ran.
Straight into the forest, I ran as fast as I could, hoping the trees would give me enough cover to hide from the monster Malachite had become. Just as she sprang to tackle me, I tripped over a root and fell to the ground.
Then I woke.
Malachite lay at the foot of my bed not moving a muscle. I didn’t have nightmares often, but that was a doozy.
I glanced at the journal and for a moment the terror I had felt watching Malachite morph into the panther overwhelmed me. Dream Malachite had become a metaphor for my guilt.
I chuckled and a little of the tensions drained away. Mrs. Clark would be proud to hear me use the term metaphor properly.
I had too much guilt weighing down on me. Malachite stirred and looked at me expectantly.
“Let me get dressed and then we’ll go to school. I need to talk with Mallory.”
Mist hung in the air and dark clouds hovered over the athletic field. The gloom seeped through me as I waited for Mallory. After not sleeping well, I wanted to catch her and make things right. I pulled my jacket closer. The cold oozed into my shoes and slowly turned my toes into miniature blocks of ice. I shivered.
After a few minutes, I stamped my feet to get the blood circulating. My toes felt like they’d break off. How did Malachite stand the cold without turning a hair? My breath made plumes in the air, and I amused myself by trying to make shapes. Mallory should show up any minute to drop Tatiana off before class.
The temperature had dropped thirty degrees from yesterday and it looked like rain. What happened to the warm weather from the weekend?
The bell rang. Where was Mallory? Was she sick? Did something happen to Tatiana? I hurried to my first class; I didn’t want to be late.
Yanking open the entry doors, hot air blasted out. My nose defrosted on the way down the hall to class. Good in one way, but now I had a runny nose and I didn’t have any tissue and didn’t have time to hit the bathroom. Yuck.
By the time I settled in my seat, I’d removed my jacket. Did they need the heater cranked so high? It was cold outside, but the heater spewed hot air into the room at an alarming rate. I glanced around the room. I knew which classmates had been inside the longest by the perspiration sheen on their faces.
By the time roll call finished, sweat beaded my forehead. Was every building this overheated? I’d die before the end of the day. I swiped my arm across my forehead to mop up the sweat with my sleeve. While the weather didn’t usually get as cold as today, the school had never tried to roast the students alive.
Mr. Perry wrote on the board and his armpits soaked his shirt and made two huge spots. Disgusting. He stopped mid-sentence and strode to the windows. He threw them open and cold air rushed into the room.
He stood at the window with arms above his head, letting the freezing air dry the sweat on his face. Then he picked up the wall phone and called the office. “It’s unbearably hot in here.” He listened for a few moments. “When will it be fixed?”
He hung up the phone and wiped his face on his shirt sleeve. Just the few moments away from the window caused the sweat to build again. The bald spot on his head peeked through his carefully combed hair.
When he faced the class, muffled laughter spread. He missed the drop of sweat on the end of his pointed nose.
“Maintenance knows about the problem with the heater and is working on it.”
The cold air coming through the window teased me. Puffs of cool mingled with the growing heat, but not enough to help me cool down. I picked up the journal and fanned myself with it.
Anything to get a breeze going. Too bad I couldn’t write about the heater and say the problem was fixed and the temperature returned to normal. But I wanted to make up with Mallory and to do that, I had to stop making entries in the journal.
Mr. Perry continued with class, or at least he tried, but then gave up because no one paid attention. Half the class fanned themselves with any object they could find. Those closest to the window concentrated on hogging all the cool air, and the rest of the class slumped in their seats. No one could focus.
My hot face beaded with sweat. Mom used to talk to her friend Hilary about how wonderful it would be to go to a spa and relax in a sauna. If saunas were like this, then the spas could keep them.
Thunk.
Startled, Mr. Perry leaped to his feet and hurried past.
I twisted in my seat. Lindsey Davies, who sat right behind me, lay on the floor with a flushed face. Her eyes rolled up in her head. How freaky. I couldn’t look away, but it turned my stomach.
Mr. Perry knelt next to her and spoke softly, trying to rouse her. His head shot up. “Joaquin, go get the nurse.”
Joaquin jumped out of his chair and dashed out the door, knocking over the trash can in his wake.
“Desiree, wet some paper towels and bring them here.” Mr. Perry rapped the words out.
The beads on Desiree’s braids clinked together when her head snapped back. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no words came out as she looked at Lindsey’s unconscious form. She swallowed hard.
“I need those wet towels.”
Desiree stood. “Keep your hair on, Mr. P. I’m gettin’ it.”
Kids from the outskirts of the room moved in closer. “Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Perry?”
I couldn’t see who asked. A pang of guilt hit me. I should have asked how I could help.
“Not right now. Please, just stay back.”
Desiree returned and handed a stack of sodden towels to Mr. Perry.
He grabbed them, laid a few across Lindsey’s forehead, and draped a couple across her wrists. “Thank you, Desiree.”
Lindsey’s eyes fluttered. Mr. Perry exhaled and said her name softly.
The room continued to get hotter. If they didn’t get the heater fixed soon, we’d all be passed out on the floor. The air burned with each breath.
Banging the door open, Joaquin ushered in the nurse.
“Oh my goodness.” She put her hand on her chest. “It’s way too hot in here. This room needs to be evacuated.” Her head swiveled toward Mr. Perry. “Get the rest of the class outside, and I’ll take care of Li
ndsey.”
Mr. Perry struggled to his feet. “Gather your belongings and line up at the door. We’ll go out to the lunch tables.”
I shoved my things in the backpack, and my chair squealed against the floor as I pushed back. The room, which became quiet when Lindsey hit the floor, filled with rustling, scraping, and murmurs. No one lingered. We all wanted out.
While we made a shambling line at the door, Mr. Perry called the other rooms in the building to tell them to evacuate as well. Then he led us outside.
Walking through the doors to the outside felt like going from a furnace to a freezer. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten how cold it was today.
I plopped my backpack on the lunch table and put on my jacket before sitting. From one extreme to the other. The sweat turned ice-cold as it dried on our skin, making things worse.
Following the evacuation plan, each class had designated tables and we weren’t allowed to mingle. Most teachers told their students to be quiet. They almost roast us and we can’t talk about it? At least Mr. Perry didn’t tell us not to talk. Lindsey passing out must have rattled him.
The nurse escorted Lindsey to the office and the class gave a weak cheer to see her walking.
I glanced around the other tables. Mallory and I weren’t in the same class, but we did have classes in the same building for first period. I spotted her head sandwiched between Rob and Justin. I snickered because they were two of the tallest boys in our class and Mallory was one of the shortest girls. The top of her head didn’t reach their shoulders. At least she made it to school.
What did she do with Tatiana? Mallory would never be late to class, so she hadn’t dropped her off on the athletic field. Then I saw a momentary glint of a wing peeking through her hair before it disappeared again.
Happy to be out of the sweltering heat, the students fidgeted while the teachers discussed their plan of action.
A loud hiss sounded from our left.
Ka-Boom!
Chapter Twenty - Journal Exposed
The Journal of Angela Ashby Page 12