by Tim Harris
Mr. Sternblast handed his folder to Miss Frost. “Before I go, there’s one more thing I need to tell you about our routines here at Blue Valley School.”
Sammy pounced on the opportunity and slid another piece of paper—the twelfth in the chain of notes—to Carrot.
What does BRB mean?
Be right back.
Oooh. That makes sense.
Yeah, unlike Mr. Sternblast’s moustache—that makes no sense at all!
“Ha ha ha!” Sammy’s laugh filled room 12B.
Mr. Sternblast and Miss Frost turned in fury to find the culprit.
“Oops. I probably should have written ‘LOL’ instead,” said Sammy.
The rules of the internet had caught up with the poor boy.
“I’ve been watching you two passing notes,” said Miss Frost, her chilling whisper impressing Mr. Sternblast. “You can’t fool me.”
“A sharp eye for spotting trouble,” said Mr. Sternblast, nodding his balding head in approval. “And what a lovely bobby pin you’re sporting, I might add.”
The students held their breaths. The principal had unwittingly ventured into dangerous territory.
Miss Frost sized up Mr. Sternblast with a single glare. “With respect,” she said, “you will never mention my bobby pin again.”
The principal appeared surprised by this comment, though its steely cold delivery ensured the point was taken.
Miss Frost walked over to Sammy’s desk and picked up a pile of notes. “What do you think this is?” she demanded.
“Please, don’t read them,” said Sammy.
There was desperation in his voice.
Carrot trembled in his chair, too scared to talk.
Miss Frost scanned the first piece of paper. Her lips remained in a thin line. “Not what I was expecting,” she murmured.
This is what she read:
The Indian spark-maker beetle is one of the rarest insects on the planet.
I didn’t know that. Let’s surprise our amazing new teacher, Miss Frost, with some incredible facts about the Indian spark-maker beetle.
What a great idea!
Terrific! I just love school!
Miss Frost is completely brilliant!
She knows her stuff. Her advice about handwriting is some of the best I’ve heard.
We’ll have to thank Mr. Sternblast later. He always hires such wonderful teachers.
I love how Mr. Sternblast is explaining the school routines to Miss Frost.
Outstanding, isn’t it!
Miss Frost just looked at me. She is so beautiful and clever—she even knows when we’re writing lovely things about her!
I hope she finds these notes and reads them. She deserves to know what we truly think of her. Let’s meet at the library at lunch to do our research about the Indian spark-maker beetle.
For sure! The world would be a better place with more Miss Frosts in it.
She’s remarkable. She’s simply remarkable.
If Miss Frost had had her wits about her that day, she would have noticed that the handwriting on the note was much like the previous teacher’s—Mr. Bambuckle.
However, in an attempt to erase all memory of the kindly teacher, she had wiped the board clean of his writing earlier that morning.
“See to it you follow instructions in the future,” said Miss Frost, and for a moment, there was just a hint of cheer in her voice.
“Indian spark-maker beetle,” said Mr. Sternblast to himself. “There’s something familiar about that.”
“Mr. Bambuckle had a—” began Evie Nightingale, her confidence briefly fueled by the memory of her favorite teacher and his mysterious pet insect.
“Silence, child,” hissed Miss Frost, a single stare causing Evie to cower behind her desk.
Evie didn’t speak again that day. The misery heaped upon her by the new teacher was enough to extinguish her voice altogether.
• • •
Another student who was feeling entirely miserable was Scarlett Geeves. That was until she discovered a note in her schoolbag at the end of the day.
Dear Scarlett,
The class needs you now more than ever before. Don’t be disheartened by the events of today, for you are about to discover magic in your fingers. It won’t last long, so use it wisely.
Mr. Bambuckle
Scarlett looked around quickly in search of Mr. Bambuckle. But there was no sign of him anywhere.
She slid the note back into her bag and tightened the red ribbon in her long, black hair. While she was not sure what Mr. Bambuckle’s note meant, Scarlett’s whole body filled with the warmth that had been missing that day.
I need to start keeping a diary, she thought to herself. Things are about to get interesting around here.
She couldn’t have been closer to the truth if she tried.
PhotoCrop Shock
Scarlet Geeves’s Story
There really is magic in my fingers. Who would have thought?
Today was Miss Frost’s second day with us. She has to be the nastiest person I know. She makes Cafeteria Carol look like a cuddly teddy bear, and that’s saying something, especially after Cafeteria Carol chased me out of the cafeteria for not saying please.
We had a computer lesson in the library today. Miss Frost made us sit in silence. “I’m reluctant to allow you to spend time here,” she said. “However, it is required by law that you learn computer skills. After this, I’ll see to it that we spend the rest of the afternoon improving your handwriting.”
We opened up a photo editing program called PhotoCrop. I sat next to Sammy Bamford.
He frowned at his computer and whispered under his breath. “Huh? Government override system? Who sent me this?”
Miss Frost walked past, and he quickly closed the window to avoid any trouble.
Our task was to find a photo on the internet and edit it in PhotoCrop. After some browsing, I found a photo of Blue Valley School. The photo showed the school on a bright, sunny day. The buildings reflected the sunlight like mirrors. It was a happy photo.
But I wasn’t happy.
Miss Frost was making everyone feel gloomy. I wanted to show what she had done to Blue Valley School. The sunshine had left with Mr. Bambuckle.
I copied and pasted black clouds over the school. Then I added rain pouring down over every building and took away the sunny reflections in the windows. The school looked as though it was the saddest place on earth.
And that was when something strange happened.
Dark clouds suddenly filled the sky outside. It started teeming. Rain pelted against the windows.
“An unusual anomaly,” observed Albert Smithers, adjusting his glasses. “It isn’t supposed to rain until next week.”
“Silence, Alfred,” hissed Miss Frost.
“It’s Albert,” said Albert.
“How dare you talk back to me? That’s two hundred lines at lunch.”
Albert sighed and nodded.
I stared at my computer screen and then out one of the lab windows. The dark clouds over Blue Valley School looked identical to those on my screen.
I deleted a few clouds in the photo, and it got lighter outside. My heart pumped furiously, and I took my fingers off the keyboard.
I, Scarlett Geeves, could control the weather.
Next, I erased the clouds and rain altogether. In an instant, both the photo and the world outside went back to their original sunny state.
By now, even Miss Frost was peering outside. “What’s going on out there?” she said, her breath misting up the window.
I was on a roll. I had to try something different.
I searched for images of fire and found a good one. It wasn’t too big, but it wasn’t too small either.
Here goes nothing, I thought to
myself.
I dragged the fire across the computer screen and placed it near the bushes outside Mr. Sternblast’s office.
And just like that, the fire alarm went off.
“All of you outside now,” ordered Miss Frost. “We must adhere to evacuation protocol 74-C.”
Despite having just been in trouble, Albert’s eyes lit up at the use of such big words.
I must have been the only student who didn’t look surprised by the alarm. Miss Frost glared at me with suspicion, but I quickly turned off my computer before she could see what I had done.
• • •
Sometimes I wonder why Miss Frost went into teaching in the first place. All she does is work us like slaves and hand out punishments. She goes on and on about “improved grades” and “discipline.”
“This writing is completely unacceptable,” she said to Victoria the next day.
Miss Frost picked up Victoria’s work and tore it into pieces. It was the second time she had done that to my friend.
At morning recess, Victoria was still sad.
“Try to ignore her,” I said.
“It’s hard to ignore when you put so much effort into your work. My desk is turning into a mountain of shredded paper.”
I rested my head on her shoulder as we watched the boys play soccer. “Don’t take it personally; she did it to Myra too. I’ve never seen Myra so upset. Well, apart from that time she dropped all her change down the drain.”
Victoria took a bite from her apple and smiled, mustering some positivity.
I decided to tell her about the computer lesson and Mr. Bambuckle’s note.
“You caused the rain?” she said. “I wondered what all that was about.”
“And the fire,” I added.
“But how?”
“Mr. Bambuckle,” I said. “He wrote me a note to tell me there’s magic in my fingers.”
Victoria took another bite from her apple and listened.
“But he said it won’t last long,” I remembered. “So I have to use it wisely.”
“Why don’t you go to the computer lab at lunchtime today?” suggested Victoria. “You could test out PhotoCrop and see if it’s still doing funny things.”
“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” I said.
• • •
Aside from Albert Smithers and Sammy Bamford, the computer lab was empty.
Albert had finished his lunch early and was researching something about metaphysics online. He was often looking into stuff that even our teachers didn’t know anything about.
Sammy was watching sports videos, but he kept glancing around suspiciously, mumbling something about a government override system.
The librarian, Mrs. Paige, was busy putting away books. Her curly hair bobbed up and down as she reached for different shelves. It would be a while before she came to check on the students in the lab.
I sat down with Victoria at a computer and opened PhotoCrop.
“What comes next?” she whispered.
“We find photos.”
“Of what?”
I had already thought of that. “Check it out,” I said.
I found the same photo of Blue Valley School and dropped it into PhotoCrop. Then I found a picture of a small tornado and dragged it over the school oval.
“As soon as I let go of the computer mouse,” I said, “the tornado will come to life.”
And that was exactly what happened.
Victoria and I ran to the nearest window to look outside.
A dusty spiral of grass clippings and children’s hats filled the center of the soccer field. A tornado was skidding across the grass. Kids ran screaming in all directions.
“That’s nuts!” Victoria laughed.
The magic in my fingers was well and truly alive. All I had to do was test out a few more ideas.
“Watch this,” I said, dashing back to the computer.
I deleted the tornado and replaced it with a photo of a cat.
“The tornado’s gone,” said Victoria.
“What’s gone?” said Albert, who was now distracted from his metaphysics and had joined Victoria at the window. “All I see is a bunch of hats falling from the sky…and a cat on the soccer field.”
“How did a cat get—” began Victoria, but she cut herself short when she realized what I had done.
I clicked Delete, and the cat disappeared.
“Where did it go?” said Albert. He took off his glasses and blinked, rubbing his eyes. “Talk about abstract metaphysics… Maybe it’s time I got some stronger lenses.”
Victoria smothered her giggles.
Sammy high-fived his computer screen. “Yes! Take that, government override system!”
Mrs. Paige tapped on the door to the lab. “Is everything okay in here?”
“Just fine, thank you,” said Victoria.
“I hope so,” said the librarian, not entirely convinced. “I’ll be putting more books away if anyone needs me.”
Albert walked back to his seat, muttering something about vanishing cats and wishing that his kindergarten buddy would disappear instead.
Sammy kept tapping away at his keyboard, deep in concentration.
“Told you,” I said as Victoria joined me at the computer. “There really is magic in my fingers.”
“It’s amazing,” she replied. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I hadn’t seen anything like it either, and I thought about the note from Mr. Bambuckle. “But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.”
Victoria stared thoughtfully at the computer screen. “We know you can change the weather,” she said.
“Yep.”
“We know you can make fire.”
“Yep.”
“And we know you can make cats appear and disappear.”
“What’s your point?”
“Well,” she said, her lips curling into a grin, “have you tried using it on people?”
“What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Paige. Try doing something to her.”
While I could try explaining what happened next, I think I’d be better at drawing it.
Victoria and I barely managed to stifle our giggles until the bell sounded. It was the most we’d laughed since Mr. Bambuckle left.
“Do you realize what this means?” said Victoria. “If PhotoCrop works on Mrs. Paige, it must work on Miss Frost too!”
• • •
The next day, before the morning bell had done its thing, I went to the library.
Mrs. Paige was busy covering some new books. She was happy to let me use the computers. “Sounds like you’re working on something pretty serious,” she said.
“It is a big project,” I replied.
“I admire your hard work, Scarlett.”
I paused at the door to the computer lab. “Mrs. Paige,” I said, “what’s Miss Frost’s first name?”
Mrs. Paige was gentle but firm. “That’s Miss Frost’s personal information.”
“It’s for my project,” I pleaded. “It’s very important.”
Mrs. Paige blinked a few times, then lowered her voice. “Well, in that case, it’s Belladonna… Belladonna Frost.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I slipped into the lab and turned on a computer. My heart hammered against my ribs. I hadn’t been very nervous when I used PhotoCrop before, but what I was about to do made me shiver with fear.
I opened an internet browser and took a deep breath, typing “Belladonna Frost” into the search engine.
One photo.
There was only one photo of our cold-blooded teacher on the entire internet.
I clicked on the link and enlarged the photo to get a better look.
It was a close-up head
shot of Miss Frost. Her gray-blue eyes pierced the camera lens.
Poor photographer.
But I wasn’t worried about that now. I was more concerned about what I would do with the photo. A million ideas bounced around in my mind like Ping-Pong balls.
My palm felt sweaty against the computer mouse. I shuddered at the thought of Miss Frost finding out what I was doing. I quickly copied the image over to PhotoCrop and placed it in the middle of the screen.
I hovered the mouse over her nose and double-clicked. Then I moved the cursor to a tab named Sizing and clicked Enlarge.
Miss Frost’s nose stretched until it was three times its original size. It was hideous. It was as long as Pinocchio’s but as wide as a bulldog’s.
Then I did something I hadn’t done in PhotoCrop before.
I clicked Save.
• • •
When Miss Frost walked into class a few minutes late with an enormous bandage covering her nose, I knew what had happened.
Her whisper was laced with venom. “If any of you so much as breathes too loudly, it will be five hundred lines at lunch.”
We locked eyes, and she stared straight through me. I shivered.
“I don’t know what your game is,” she said, surveying the room, “but when I find out who did this, I’m going to make them pay…dearly.”
Vex smirked, trying hard not to make it obvious he was staring at the bulge beneath Miss Frost’s bandage.
Evie Nightingale shrunk back in her chair, nibbling one of her fingernails the way a frightened rabbit chews on a carrot stick.
Miss Frost advanced toward Evie’s desk and towered over her. “You there… Eden, isn’t it? Who did this to me?”
Evie could only quiver in reply.
“I asked you a question!” roared the teacher, losing her cool. “Respect means answering, you cowardly child!”
Poor Evie’s shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hands.
Miss Frost paced the room. “Who knows who did this?” Her cold, blue eyes caught mine again. “Charlotte, isn’t it?”
“Scarlett,” I said as calmly as I could.