The Journal of Angela Ashby

by Liana Gardner

  The ground shook. My classmates’ squeals filled the air.

  A metal pipe hurtled through the boiler room window. Broken glass tinkled, eclipsed by the clatter of the pipe hitting the ground.

  Flames licked the window frame.

  Beep—Beep—Beep.

  The fire alarm blasted through the campus.

  My heart pounded as adrenaline coursed through my system.

  Mr. Perry waved his arms over his head to catch our attention. “Line up and follow me.”

  Once in line, we passed the metal pipe. I eyed it and shuddered. If it had hit someone, they’d have been dead for sure. The pipe pinged as it cooled in the raw morning air.

  He led us out to the athletic field, where we were joined by the rest of the school. Each teacher had a clipboard with the roll call on it and again went through the litany of names. Where was Malachite? She had stayed on the athletic field as I had hurried to class, but I didn’t see her amber eyes peering out of the bushes.

  Black smoke billowed out the broken window and the cloying scent of charred wood grew.

  We practiced fire drills every year, but this was the first time I’d done it for a real fire. The drills were almost fun. A chance to interrupt class, get out and walk around. Today the party atmosphere of the drill was absent. Most of my classmates’ eyes were wide. No one cat-called or pushed their neighbor.

  Sirens sounded in the distance. The wails came closer with each passing moment. The ear-piercing sound cut off mid-shriek. The firefighters had arrived.

  Mr. Lassiter led the firefighters to the boiler room.

  Jets of water arced through the window. The fire hissed, crackled and popped. The smoke changed from black to gray. The once thick plume thinned until it became a wisp.

  The bell to change classes sounded. No one moved.

  The urgency in the firefighters died when the water turned off. They reeled back the hose and checked the building for damage.

  No longer watching their classes closely, the teachers gathered in a group and chatted. I didn’t see Mrs. Clark. My heart sank. Why wasn’t she here?

  I edged out of line, along with half my classmates, and looked for Mallory in the growing free-for-all.

  Waiting for the all clear bell to ring to release us from the athletic field, students formed small groups and chatted in low voices. I maneuvered past several groups before I reached Mallory. She crossed her arms when I approached.

  I stopped. “Are you still mad at me?”

  She shrugged and made a quarter turn away.

  In a word, yes. “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t use the journal again.” I pulled it out of my bag and held it out. “I’ll even give it to you, so you know I’m not writing in it.”

  She turned to face me, but kept her arms folded.

  “Look.” I flipped the book open to the last page I wrote on. “I didn’t journal anything about the heat in the classroom, even though I wanted to.”

  “Maybe you should have, Angela.” Her tone rivaled the weather.

  What? “I’m confused. I thought you didn’t want me to write in the journal.”

  “No.” She sighed. “I want you to think about the consequences before you journal.”

  Her hand jerked out in a tight chopping motion. “When you realized the boiler was out of control, you could have written something to fix the problem. But you didn’t.”

  No fair. “I didn’t because I thought you didn’t want me to. How am I supposed to keep it straight?”

  Angry creases appeared between her brows. “I shouldn’t have to tell you.”

  How maddening. I wanted to make up with Mallory, but she made it difficult. “Okay, Mal. Maybe you shouldn’t have to, but I’m confused and I’m trying to get it right. Help me?”

  Mallory looked at the sky. “I can’t tell you for every situation. You’re going to have to figure that out on your own.”

  That didn’t help.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose as her eyes watered.

  The smell of one of T’s farts reached me. The sanitizer must be wearing off.

  “But think of it this way ... before you write something ask yourself whether it’s going to hurt someone.” Her voice sounded nasally with her nose pinched. “It doesn’t matter whether you think they deserve it. Simply, will it hurt someone?”

  She gazed straight into my eyes. “If it will hurt anyone, then don’t do it. If it won’t, then go ahead.” Mallory pointed at the pipe. “That could have hurt someone and even killed them. You had the power to stop it. No one would have been hurt by wishing the boiler wouldn’t explode.”

  Except I didn’t know the boiler was going to explode. But I didn’t want to argue anymore. “I’m sorry, Mallory. I didn’t think of it that way. Thanks for telling me.” I inhaled the char-laced-with-fart-scented air. “So can we go back to being friends?”

  Mallory finally dropped both arms to her side. “I never stopped being your friend. I was just angry because you weren’t thinking.” She touched the journal. “This is very powerful. You have to be careful.”

  Malachite snaked through all the feet of the kids milling around and made straight for Mallory and me.

  “Malachite, thank goodness you’re okay.” I scooped her up and snuggled her for a moment.

  “You named the cat?” Her eyebrows rose. “After my crystal?”

  I put Malachite back on the ground so I wouldn’t draw attention to her. “She kept showing up and following me, and I couldn’t keep calling her cat. She doesn’t have a collar or a tag and since she felt like a protector, I named her after your crystal. She likes the name.”

  Mallory wiggled her fingers at Malachite. “Hello.” She glanced at me. “She’s a Bombay cat. I looked it up.”

  Punched in the shoulder from behind, I stumbled and turned to find Cynthia glaring at me.

  “Hey, Be-Ash. Gimme that notebook. It’s mine.” Cynthia reached for the journal.

  Malachite jumped between us, hissing and spitting at Cynthia.

  I twisted away from her, protecting the journal from her grasp. “Back off. This is mine, not yours.”

  Cynthia aimed a kick at Malachite who nimbly stayed out of range. “Mangy, flea-bitten cat doesn’t belong on school grounds.”

  “She’s not mangy. Her fur is perfect. Unlike your flea-bitten hide.” Not my best effort as an insult, but it had the desired result.

  Her face flushed and her fingers curled into claws like she wanted to rip my face off. “I’ll call animal control to cart that cat off to a kill shelter.”

  The way Malachite disappeared and reappeared, I wasn’t worried about animal control being able to catch her. She could take care of herself. “You’re not worried they might mistake you for an ape in a wig and haul you off instead?”

  Cynthia lunged for the journal and I skipped to the side.

  “That isn’t your journal. Just because you’ve scribbled in it doesn’t mean it’s yours. Where’d you get it?”

  I exchanged a look with Mallory. She faintly shook her head.

  “A—It doesn’t matter where I got it. B—I could tell you anywhere I liked, and there’s no way to prove it. C—I don’t have to tell you anyway. It’s full of my writing and has my name in the front.”

  “You stole it from me before I could use it.”

  Her accusation stung. I’d never stolen anything in my life. Except a pack of gum from the store when I was five. And Mom made me give it back and apologize. My cheeks flushed.

  “So hand it over, Be-Ash or I sit on your buddy here and squish her like a bug.”

  Cynthia’s ability to squish Mallory was all too real of a threat, but it’s not like I’d stand by and let her. And I couldn’t wait for a teacher to overhear her calling me Be-Ash and haul her in to Mr. Lassiter’s office for using foul language.

  T zoomed away from Mallory and stopped above Cynthia’s head. Her little face turned red as she concentrated. I didn’t want to call attention to her by staring a
t her, but I couldn’t look away. She drew her knees up then straightened them and flew upward.

  Cynthia’s nose wrinkled. “Great grief. You two stink. What did you do? Bathe in manure?”

  I held back a laugh. T had laid a stink bomb on her.

  She held out her hand. “And what have you written in the book that’s more interesting than an explosion on campus?”

  My jaw dropped. We had been too obvious with the journal. Everyone else was watching the firefighters.

  “We’re talking about writing up the explosion for the school newspaper.” Mallory put her hands on her hips. “And I can confirm the book is Angela’s because she got it when we were together. So why don’t you stop making empty threats and leave us alone?”

  Mallory? I never thought I’d see the day when Mallory stood up to Cynthia. Billy was different because she had been defending Zach. Watching her, I couldn’t regret Billy tripping on the planter. The incident along with her crystal seemed to have given Mallory confidence.

  Cynthia’s face turned a brighter shade of red and she stepped in and leaned down, wart to nose with Mallory. “It’s not an empty threat. I’m going to get you when there’re not so many people around. Just you wait.”

  Mallory didn’t even flinch. “You don’t scare me anymore.”

  The all clear bell rent the air.

  Cynthia took a step back. “I’ll be watching.”

  Tatiana pulled aside the curtain of Mallory’s hair and stuck her tongue out at Cynthia’s retreating back. “I should have bitten her on the nose.” She giggled. “Or her wart, but that would have been gross.”

  Mallory whispered out one side of her mouth. “T, get back under my hair.”

  Tatiana slipped back under cover.

  I looked around for Malachite, afraid she might be kicked by someone in the crowd, but she had disappeared.

  Mallory and I joined the crowd moving toward the classrooms. I wasn’t in a rush to get there. My next class was Phys Ed but since most of the period passed while we stood freezing on the athletic field, we wouldn’t dress out.

  I tapped Mallory’s arm. “Quick thinking on the article excuse. Thanks.”

  Mallory grinned. “That was T. She whispered it in my ear.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to take T into class with you.”

  “I couldn’t leave her outside with it as cold as it is today.” Mallory lifted her hand toward the sky. “It might rain, or worse, snow.”

  I smirked. “It’s cold out here, but it’s not cold enough to snow.”

  Mallory scowled. “Well, T is small and she’s only wearing a light dress and doesn’t have a coat.”

  “But don’t you have some old doll clothes...?”

  Phweet. A high pitched whistle interrupted me.

  “Will you two stop arguing? I’m nice and toasty where I am, and wouldn’t dream of wearing someone else’s cast off clothing.”

  Afraid someone heard her, I glanced at the people around us. Fortunately, no one looked in our direction.

  “Sorry, T.” Mallory patted her on the back with her index finger.

  I hitched my backpack higher on my shoulder. “So how did you do in the heat?”

  Mallory blew on her hands to warm them. “I became lightheaded, but was more worried about T. I thought she might pass out in the heat and fall off my shoulder.”

  That would have been hard to explain. And the thought of tiny Tatiana passed out on the floor like Lindsey disturbed me.

  We reached the split off point where Mallory would go to her class and I’d go to the gym. “Are we good, Mal?”

  Mallory arched her brow. “Are you going to think before you write?”

  I practically gave myself whiplash nodding. “Yes. I can’t stand for you to be mad at me.”

  She tilted her head. “Okay. We’re good.”

  Chapter Twenty-One - Evasion

  Walking through the door of English, I scanned the room hoping to see Mrs. Clark. My hopes were dashed to find Mr. Farber behind the desk. Why did he have to be here?

  I slid into my seat and took out my book. I left my jacket on because the heater was broken. As my classmates walked through the door, they groaned softly. No one was thrilled to see Mr. Farber in front of the class.

  It wasn’t fair. Why should Mrs. Clark be gone and Cynthia still be in school? She didn’t even get suspended a day for tripping Mallory or pushing Mrs. Clark.

  Mr. Farber called the class to order and the muttering stopped like someone flipped a switch. He gave us a reading assignment and sat at the desk again. The only sounds in the room were pages rustling, and an occasional creak of the seat as someone shifted their weight. I tried to concentrate on the words, but my mind kept wandering.

  Jimmy Simmons drummed his pencil eraser on the desk. The rhythmic sound of the eraser bouncing off the desk surface mesmerized me. Carla sniffed every couple seconds and Xavier kept clearing his throat.

  I reread the same paragraph three times, and still didn’t absorb the words. I stared out the window. Just a few days ago, a gnome popped out of the bush and waved at me. When I asked for the gnome, I didn’t realize how powerful the journal was. And how much responsibility came with it.

  If I’d known about the responsibility beforehand, would the journal still be blank?

  I thought about what Mallory said. If it was possible to hurt someone by what I wrote, then I shouldn’t do it. A drop of guilt slid into my stomach and burned.

  My last entry would hurt Dad’s new wife, Holly. But she hurt Mom and me first. Didn’t that make it okay?

  According to Mallory, it didn’t. She didn’t even like when I gave Cynthia warts for tripping her.

  My guilt grew and the snarling panther from my dream filled my head.

  But it was already written. I couldn’t change what I wrote. And I couldn’t undo it. I’d tried with Tatiana, and it didn’t work. I curled over my desk and rested my forehead on the edge. What should I do?

  “Miss Ashby.”

  Mr. Farber’s voice cut through my thoughts.

  “This is not nap time. I suggest you continue your reading.”

  Snickers rippled through the class, and my cheeks flamed.

  I pulled the book closer and started reading again. Before the end of the paragraph, I looked out the window. I couldn’t concentrate today. I thought about the gnome again. He didn’t stick around, because I didn’t have anything for him to do outside of showing up. And he didn’t hurt anyone, so nothing went wrong with that experiment.

  Same with the unicorn. No one got hurt and nothing bad happened. Things went a little awry with Tatiana, but ultimately Mallory loved having a fairy. Plus she had a living science experiment in her bedroom. And for Mallory, that was close to heaven.

  But every time I wrote something that would hurt someone, things went wrong.

  Catastrophically wrong.

  Mr. Farber leading English class, wrong.

  The thoughts chased around in my head, over and over again; my parents getting back together, loving each other and not arguing, Holly getting hurt. Was there a way to fix it so she wouldn’t be hurt? Would it help?

  Maybe I could have Holly fall in love with someone else so she didn’t feel bad when Dad left her for Mom. I reached for the journal. My fingers touched the leather cover then I pulled my hand back.

  I’d better think this through to make sure no one else would get hurt before I wrote anything. Maybe I should talk to Mallory about it after school. She seemed to understand how the journal worked better than I did.

  A flash of color caught my eye. My head snapped around. I didn’t see anything. Everyone else had their head buried in their book. Maybe I should try reading again.

  I saw something out of the corner of my eye again. Definitely out the window this time. The branches of the bushes quivered, but there didn’t seem to be a breeze. Was a small animal trying to find a warm place to hunker down?

  I blinked. Did I just see the tip of the g
nome’s hat? I rubbed my eyes. Imagination. The gnome left. Didn’t he? Plus he wore a flat cap and not the usual pointed hat.

  The branches bobbed up and down. Then the gnome’s head appeared. He grinned and waved at me. I stared. Why was the gnome back? He had disappeared.

  Xavier cleared his throat and I glanced down at my book just in time. Mr. Farber circulated through the room to make sure everyone was reading the right book. He didn’t trust us not to sneak another book into the open text book.

  He did have a point. Jimmy Simmons sneaked a comic book in once. Mrs. Clark took it all in stride. When she saw the comic book, she asked Jimmy to read aloud. Then she used what Jimmy read to teach us about literary devices.

  Thinking about Mrs. Clark, made my guilt over her absence grow. If I hadn’t made the journal entry and just let Mrs. Clark take care of Cynthia herself, she’d still be in front of the class, doing what she loved.

  What if Mr. Farber came close enough to see the gnome? I turned the page so he thought I was reading the assignment. If he stopped us before the end of class and called on people to answer questions about the reading, I was in trouble. I couldn’t remember one word.

  Mr. Farber stopped next to my desk and looked over my shoulder at the page number. My fingers tapped on the edge of the book. The gnome better be hiding in the bushes.

  What if Mr. Farber looked out the window? Would he even recognize a gnome? I bet he’d think it was a little old man wearing a weird hat. But what if Mr. Farber called the police to remove the gnome for trespassing?

  I tried not to panic and call attention to the window and turned another page. Mr. Farber moved away to terrorize the next student.

  My eyes darted to the window. The gnome’s hat bobbed just over the top of the branches.

  The bell rang. The tension in my shoulders lifted. I shut my book, shoved it in the backpack and hurried out the door. I needed to talk to Mallory, but first I wanted to discover what the gnome was doing in the bushes.

  I waited for the rest of my classmates to head toward the lunch tables while pretending to search for something in my backpack. Once the area cleared, I dashed around the corner of the building then came to a quick halt.