by Jennie Brown
I reached up to the top of my head and sighed once I felt the soft purple headband that my mom bought me for Christmas last year. Don’t they have anything better to write about?
Pink: And what about those necklaces? She wears that orange one like every day.
Orange: Lol. To match her crazy hair! See what she is thinking about …
Pink: She is nervous about Power Academy for the power rejects. Of course she’s going. I heard she can’t even make a pencil move without stabbing someone.
Orange: That is ridiculous!
Pink: What a loser.
I made sure neither of the mean girls were looking my direction before I crumpled up the note and pushed it under my notebook. I felt a few tears begin to form in the corner of my eyes. Seriously, didn’t these girls have anything better to talk about than me? They were first-class bullies.
And what they said about Power Academy was just wrong. Sure, I’m not as good at the whole telekinesis thing as the other Mondays in my class, but that didn’t mean I would have to spend day after day of misery there—with the other … well … powerless rejects.
“Miss Mayberry? What seems to be the problem?” Mr. Salmon asked, jolting me from my thoughts. His toupee looked like a giant fur-ball bouncing on his head as he walked toward me. It would usually make me laugh, but I was definitely not laughing at this moment.
I quickly wiped the wetness from my cheeks and shoved the corner of the note farther under my notebook. At this point all eyes were on me- including Ellie’s. Her lips curved into an I-hate-you smile.
“I … um …”
“You know that I don’t appreciate people passing notes in my class. Especially during my math lessons,” he smile-yelled and his big eyes bulged out of their sockets. You just don’t mess with his math lessons.
“I wasn’t …” I tried to protest.
His skinny fingers reached down and pushed my notebook to the side. He grabbed the folded up piece of paper and took it to the front of the room. Everyone remained silent. Please don’t read it out loud, I thought to myself.
Leaning against his desk, Mr. Salmon folded the note back up, shook his head, scanned the room (I assumed looking for the owner of the pink and orange pens), and spoke. “I should have done this quite some time ago. To Mr. Wible’s office, both of you.” Mr. Salmon pointed directly at me and then at Ellie. Everyone else in the class made the typical, “ahhhhh” sound when anyone gets sent to the principal’s office.
“You should know that I, of all people Mr. Salmon, would never mean to intentionally interrupt your amazing lessons,” Ellie snipped. I’m pretty sure 90 percent of the class rolled their eyes. She sure was full of it.
“I don’t want to hear it, Miss Preston. Off to the office for you.” He looked at me. “And Miss Mayberry, let’s get moving along.”
I grabbed my bag, caught a sympathetic glance from Veronica, and walked out the door, wishing that I were a Friday and could have just disappeared right then and there.
Chapter Four
In the five years that I had been a student at Nova Elementary, I had never been sent into the principal’s office. Not until Mr. Salmon sent me.
Ellie Preston sat across from me on a wooden bench completely avoiding eye contact. We were waiting outside the main office for our turn with Nova Elementary’s “esteemed principal.” (That’s what was written on his door. Ugh.) Esteemed? Yeah, right!
“You, like, totally know this is all your fault,” Ellie’s voice screeched. She rolled her eyes and pulled a nail file from her purse. Diva. Who even carries a nail file to school?
I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. I couldn’t even imagine how she thought this was even remotely my fault. She continued filing, and I cringed at every sawing motion. That awful grinding sound always gets on my nerves. She leaned toward me, reached her hand out so that it was practically in my face, and continued just sawing away. Stupid mind-reading Thursday.
“Ugh.” I sighed.
“Ugh.” Ellie sighed, and then she used the file to point toward the principal’s door. “And you know that we are totally going to get at least like five days of detention from Mr. Wobble-Wible in there,” she said, rolling her eyes again, and then continued, “and unlike you, I have things to do this summer.”
I brushed off her last comment, and as much as I tried not to smirk, I did. I thought that Veronica and I were the only two that had a nickname for Principal Wible. Wobble-Wible. I know it sounded kind of mean saying that, but Mr. Wible kind of wobbles when he walks. Really, it’s more like a waddle. But whatever you want to call it. With a shiny bald head and wobbly gait, he simply looks like a penguin in a suit.
The door creaked open, and Noah Summers, a Sunday with no powers, but kinda cute anyway, shuffled out with his head hanging down to his chest. Must not have gone well with Wobble-Wible for him.
“Miss Preston and Miss Mayberry, you’re up next,” Wobble-Wible shouted and Ellie tossed the nail file back into her over-sized pink (of course) purse.
We quietly entered his office and sat down on the other side of the desk in two tan and red checkered chairs that were so humongous they practically swallowed us whole. Before I could even look up at his face, my eyes stopped on the paperweight holding down a stack of files. I laughed a little inside. What were the chances? A penguin.
I’m pretty sure Ellie saw it too or read it in my mind because when she caught my eye for a split second it was like we shared some inside joke. Her head snapped back to attention as Wobble-Wible cleared his throat and began.
“Ladies, I don’t know what exactly is going on between the two of you.” Wobble-Wible’s also one of those people who overemphasizes his “Ts.” “But it has been brought to my attention that there have been a few incidents over the past—”
“I have never done anything to her,” Ellie cut him off, protesting while sitting up and crossing her arms over her pink T-shirt. Her head snapped toward me and she smiled, batting her long eyelashes. “Right, Poppy?”
Mr. Wible and I rolled our eyes in unison. Maybe he was on my side after all.
“I don’t want to hear any disputes, just listen to what I have to say, Miss Preston.” Wobble-Wible’s voice was firmer with Ellie than I imagined it would ever be considering the fact that she was the “perfect” Nova student.
“Not only has there been some incidents involving you and Poppy, but I have also been told that you, Miss Preston, have been illegally using your powers in school.”
Yes! Finally, someone noticed. Who better than the head principal?
He picked up the penguin. I laughed inside again, and then watched as he pulled a manila folder from underneath of it. From the corner of my eye, I noticed that Ellie shifted a little in her seat. Her ballet flats nervously clicked on the floor below. He opened the file.
“It seems that you have not only been using your powers to read the thoughts of other students, but you have also been taking advantage of some teachers as well.” His eyes searched Ellie’s for a response. “Isn’t that right, Miss Preston?” he prompted.
“Well … I …” she stuttered. And then defensively added, “Only when I absolutely ne—”
“You know the number one rule here, and so you must feel the repercussions of your prohibited actions.” Wobble-Wible’s also one of those people who likes to use big words—like prohibited, epitome, and metaphor.
At this point in the conversation, it seemed as if I were a non-factor in this whole situation. If I just slipped out the door, Wobble-Wible may not have even noticed.
“Because you have been so negligent with your Thursday powers, I find that we must do something about reining them in, and keeping them under control.” His stubby fingers reached behind him and grabbed a large binder. I couldn’t quite make out what was written on the front. “You need to learn the proper time and place for weekday power usage. Since you so recklessly use them in school where they are not a
llowed, who’s to stop you from using them outside of the Nova city limits?” Wobble-Wible continued. “Could you even imagine what outsiders would think? They would—” He stopped there.
Ellie slouched in the chair, and stared at the clock above his head. “I guess I can try to do a better job with them,” she said unconvincingly while twirling a few strands of brown hair around her finger.
Mr. Wible laughed. “You’re going to have to do a little more than try, Ellie. And I’m going to see that you do so.”
He slid the binder across the large desk, and I could now make out the cover. An audible laugh escaped from my lips.
Ellie rolled her eyes, yet again, and sat back up to reach for the binder. “Ohhhh, no, no, no, no, no.” She stood up with hands firmly planted on her hips. “There’s nooo way I am going there.” Her filed finger wiggled at Mr. Wible and then she leaned down and rummaged through her purse. I assumed she was looking for the new rhinestone cell phone she showed off to our entire class last week.
“No use calling them, Ellie. Your parents are in complete agreement,” he said, totally using his own Thursday mind-reading powers on her. “You’re already enrolled in the Academy.”
Her breath came out in quick, short bursts. “I can’t leave my friends behind. There is no way I am going to that place …” she stuttered, “… alone.”
“Oh, you won’t be attending Power Academy alone,” Mr. Wible reassured her. That’s when his beady eyes meet mine. I panicked, sure of the words that were about to fly from his mouth. Knowing that I, too, needed a whole lot of work in the whole Monday power department.
“Poppy Mayberry will be joining you.”
Ugh. These were going to be the longest months of my life.
Chapter Five
“So, you’re telling me that you have to spend, like, the entire summer at Power Academy?” Veronica blinked hard. “With Ellie?”
I threw the Power Academy brochure down on the table in front of her. The bright reds and blues on the pamphlet made the place actually look appealing, but I knew that wasn’t the case.
My shoulders dropped. This day couldn’t possibly get any worse. “Yep.” I finally answered. I’d been trying to deny that little fact for the last two hours—ever since Wobble-Wible told me the worst news I’d ever heard in my entire life. I mean, who in their right mind wants to be stuck in the prison that is Power Academy? Not to mention the fact that everyone knows that it is a last resort for the powerless and power delinquents. You might as well be a Saturday or Sunday with no powers whatsoever! Sometimes I thought about how easy my life would be if that were the case.
When I told Veronica about this horrible news, she suggested we go to Novalicious—the best ice-cream-dessert café in the world to cheer me up a bit. How could I say no? They have over one hundred different ice cream flavors.
“Well, thank goodness I got my powers nice and early,” she unknowingly bragged while taking a lick from her cone. “And extra thank goodness that I don’t have to go to that awful place. Blech!” Veronica looked disgusted. “I’d rather be forced to eat a sauerkraut-stuffed piece of duck liver than go there.”
I love my best friend, but she has no filter whatsoever and absolutely no concept of when she makes offensive comments. Was it necessary to rub it in that much?
“Thanks a lot,” I said, looking down at the delicious double-scoop chocolate peanut butter ice cream cone in my hand that, for some reason, now seemed a bit unappetizing after Veronica’s duck liver comment. “Way to make me feel better about the situation.” I threw my cone toward the trashcan to my left. But just as quickly as it went toward the metal can, it flew back in my direction. I snatched it with my hand in mid-air. Cone first. I didn’t want to risk a chocolatey, sticky mess on my favorite purple tunic.
Veronica smirked. “You would totally regret throwing that away,” she said with a wink.
I laughed along with her, even if her Monday gesture was just another reminder of my own total lack of skills. I glanced around Novalicious to see all sorts of other people using their weekday powers. Mrs. Evans, my first grade teacher and another Monday, was using her telekinesis to move a napkin up and down her toddler’s cheek. After paying at the counter, Mr. Ellison and his oldest son Trevor (both Tuesdays) disappeared. I assumed that they teleported back home. Even though I knew that they weren’t all intentionally showing off, I just felt like they were purposely emphasizing that they were awesome at their powers when I was significantly less than awesome.
“Look, Poppy. You are totally going to be fantabulous,” Veronica stated in between bites of her gummy-bear covered vanilla ice cream. A white dribble ran down her chin. It seemed everyone had confidence in me besides … well … me.
And to be honest, being away from home scared me. I could only name on one hand the few things that I was afraid of. Truly afraid of. I’m not talking about my two totally irrational fears of turkey stuffing and Mr. Salmon’s toupee that looks like a furry, gray animal sitting on the top of his head. I’m talking about true fears. And Power Academy was one of mine. I’d heard that it was a mix of intense school classes and boot camp. Although I’m pretty good at school, I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in the power boot-camp classes. Not to mention the crazy Headmistress Larriby. I’d heard nothing but bad and scary stories about that woman.
Not only that, but I had never been away from Mom and Dad for more than a weekend—and that weekend once a year was usually spent on vacation with Veronica. So at least then I had someone awesome to be with. But this summer, I would be away from them all.
“We’ll write to each other like every week,” Veronica said, snapping me from my self-wallowing. “I just don’t understand how they expect you to stay there if they don’t even give you the courtesy of using a phone.” She Monday-powered her napkin into the trashcan. “I mean, welcome to the twenty-first century, Power Academy People!”
Although it was going to stink being away from Mom, Dad, and Veronica, I was comforted by one thing—Pickle got to come with me. Other than the basic necessities of clothes and stuff, each student invited (yes, they actually call it invited even though I am pretty sure we’re all forced to go which is pretty ridiculous) to Power Academy could bring one favorite personal item from home.
The examples for personal items stated in the brochure were things like instruments, board games, sports equipment, and stuff like that. The items listed in the prohibited items section were things like cell phones, Xboxes, iPods, and electronic stuff that Wednesdays could totally tamper with if they were not so hot with their powers. And considering where these Wednesdays had to spend their summer, there was no way they were good.
“Here’s a thought,” Veronica said, her pitch slightly raised. “Why don’t I come along as your personal item?”
I couldn’t tell if she was serious or not, and pointed to a sentence written in bold on page twelve, Other individuals do not constitute as personal items.
“Oh.” She frowned. “It was a shot!”
But, the one thing the brochure didn’t say anything at all about was animals. So my favorite thing that would be staying with me at Power Academy really wasn’t a thing at all. Heck, she was practically one of the family. My cute dog Pickle would definitely help me get through those next few months.
The next morning, I started packing up my summer clothes and Pickle’s. Yes, my Yorkie wears clothing.
“Only three months,” I reassured Mom a week later as she drove me to Nova Elementary where the bus would pick me—us (Pickle)—up and then drop us off at Power Academy thirty minutes later. She was not taking my departure well at all.
“Poppy, it’s just that—” Her watery eyes looked away.
“Only three months,” I said again, touching her shoulder and calming her down before she started crying again like she did this morning. And that one this morning was a gusher. My shirt was soaked. If she cried like that again, then I’d cry. Crying was, lik
e, contagious to me.
“Just … don’t be afraid of your powers,” she said, locking eyes with mine.
What? What an odd choice of words. Powers? All her crying and crazy emotions must have gotten the best of her. Why the heck would I be afraid of being a Monday?
She turned her body toward me and her bracelets clanged together as she enveloped me in a hug. The seatbelt made me choke a little bit. “Okay, Mom.” I pulled away. “Love you.” Her blue eyes squinted as her lips curled up into that proud-mother kind of a smile.
“Love you too, Poppy.”
When we got out of the car she hugged me insanely tight one last time, and I inhaled her floral perfume, hoping to take some of her with me.
Chapter Six
“Hey, there. Can you scoot over?” A boy’s voice said while I was getting situated in the too-small bus seat. I guess they wanted to make everything about this summer miserable—starting with the bus. But really? Would it hurt them to make the seats just a little bit bigger?
“I really don’t understand why I have to go to this stupid place,” the boy next to me continued while angrily shoving his duffle bag in the overhead compartment. I looked up to see that he was about my age. A few pieces of sandy blond hair fell into his green eyes. He flicked them away with the back of his hand. If I were a better Monday, I could have easily moved them out of his face for him. But I’m not, and that’s why I was on my way to Power Academy.
“I was supposed to go on vacation with my friend and his family, but those plans were ruined,” he continued and leaned back in the seat. He huffed loudly.
I smiled and rolled my eyes. Totally got it. “I know the feeling,” I said under my breath, glancing down at Pickle in her purple travel carrier. Her cute little sleepy face looked up at me.
“I’m Logan Elliot Prince.” His hand shot out at me, taking me off guard. No one my age usually shakes hands.