The door opened and Mallory came out and sat next to me again.
“Well?”
She took her glasses off and polished them. “They let me talk this time and asked me more about what happened with Cynthia.” She put her glasses back on. “Now they’re going to contact my mom and have her come down to discuss the incident.” Mallory glared at me. “I didn’t want my mom to know I was being bullied. She’ll think I can’t handle it.”
I understood her anger. Nobody liked to be called a victim.
“I’m really sorry, Mal. But maybe this is for the best because they’ll make Cynthia stop.”
Scorn curled the edge of her lips. “Do you honestly believe Cynthia will stop picking on people?” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “She’ll make sure she’s not seen. But it’s not going to stop.”
“You don’t believe people can change?”
“I believe people can change, but I don’t believe she will. She enjoys her meanness too much.” She buried her face in her hand. “This is a nightmare.”
I tapped my fingers against my thigh. “It’ll get better. The school’s taking care of it.”
“Yeah, right. I feel like they’ve put a target on my back and announced—this one here can be bullied, so take your shots now.”
I didn’t know what to say. I collapsed against the chair. In a way she was right. If the school made a big production about protecting her, they might as well have tossed her into a piranha tank.
Mallory grabbed my wrist. “Angela, you’ve got to stop writing in that journal. Please.” She rarely asked me for anything and this time she pleaded.
“But Mal ...”
The door opened again and Mrs. Murphy stepped out. “Angela, thank you so much for your input. You may return to class now.”
Mallory looked up with hope gleaming in her eyes.
“We’d like you to wait, Mallory. We’ve contacted your mother and she should be here soon.” Mrs. Murphy went back into her office as Mallory slumped in her chair.
She cupped her hands around her mouth and put them to my ear as she whispered. “If my mom makes me go home, don’t forget T. Bring her to me after school.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “I think you’ll be here to carry her home yourself, but if not, I’ll remember T.”
I glanced at the clock as I walked out of the office. The bell for lunch would ring in fifteen minutes. I wasn’t going back to class to have Mr. Farber yell at me for disrupting it again. I headed toward the library. I needed to think.
Chapter Fifteen - Mallory Pushes Back
My footsteps clumped as I trudged across campus to the library. Mallory had never been this upset with me before. She blamed me for everything and it wasn’t fair. Cynthia was the one who started it.
When I reached the library door, the black cat wound itself around my legs, then followed me in. Though I doubted cats were allowed in the library, no one said anything as it trotted beside me, tail held high. I went to the reading corner at the back and flopped into the big stuffed chair. I buried my face in my hands and closed my eyes while the cat rubbed its head against my legs.
The memory of Mrs. Clark’s fear flashed in my head. My eyes flew open and I stared through my fingers.
Mrs. Clark, who always handled everything without turning a hair. How could she be afraid?
Was Mallory right? Was I responsible?
Or would Cynthia have pushed Mrs. Clark anyway?
Did the warts on her nose have nothing to do with it? Or was I hoping they didn’t so I wouldn’t feel guilty?
I pulled out the journal and opened it to the last entry. Pen poised over the page, I hesitated. The cat jumped into my lap and I stroked its fur. I didn’t know what else to write. Inflicting some sort of pain on Cynthia sounded like a good idea. I wanted her to suffer.
The cat gave a low-pitched growl.
But what if it backfired, like the warts? “What do you think, cat? Bad idea?”
It gazed directly into my eyes and blinked.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I recapped the pen and put it away.
Good grief. Now I was taking advice from a cat. I should probably name the cat, since it seemed to have adopted me. Maybe it was like Mallory’s crystal and helping me with intention. It stopped me from writing something more to hurt Cynthia. So I should name it for the rock.
I scratched the cat under the chin. “I think I’ll call you Malachite. What do you think?”
It purred and blinked at me with those big amber eyes again.
“I’m going to take that as a yes, so Malachite it is. But I’m going to have to go because the lunch bell will ring soon.”
As I closed the journal, a thought struck me. I had written on several pages, and because the journal was thin, I should have filled it already. I counted the blank pages. The number of clean, blank pages in the book remained the same. Did the journal grow with use? I opened it again to inspect it.
Flipping through my entries, I saw they were all there. Between chronicling my days and using the journal to make things happen, I filled twenty-three pages. But I still had twenty-five blank ones. Closed, the journal remained the same width. How could the number of pages have doubled but not the thickness?
I wanted to show Mallory, but didn’t know whether she’d even talk to me anymore. Maybe during lunch she’d let me show her. If she forgave me for her mom being called in.
That part was so unfair. I wasn’t to blame.
Warts or no warts, Mrs. Clark would have taken Cynthia to the vice principal’s office and Mr. Lassiter would have called Mallory’s mom to come down to discuss the bullying. The school anti-bullying policy included calling the parents of both the bully and the victim.
I had first-hand experience with the policy because just after Cynthia moved in she tried to blame me for bullying her. It was all a big mistake, but when the school told me they had called Mom, I shook until she arrived.
Cynthia had been playing hopscotch all by herself and she tripped and fell when she’d tried to jump the first three squares. I ran over to help her because she was crying. She pushed my hand away when I’d tried to help her up. When she stood I’d rubbed her back, like Mom would do when I was hurt, and said something stupid like ‘You’ll be all right.’
Cynthia shrieked ‘she’s hurting me’ over and over and when the teacher came to see what had happened, she lied and said I’d pushed her.
Since then we’d never gotten along. Before that Cynthia never played with anyone and wouldn’t even talk unless answering a question. Afterward it was like because of what’d happened she figured out she could intimidate other kids—and Mallory and I became her favorite targets. It was weird because I’d only wanted to help, but a bully was born.
The school thought they’d solved a problem, but until they changed how things were handled, bullies would keep bullying.
I’d need to be on the alert to help protect Mallory. Too bad she wouldn’t let Tatiana use magic. I’d love to see what a little fairy could do to a big bully. And Tatiana would love to get back at Cynthia for tripping Mallory.
It was funny, but since the moment Tatiana appeared, she and Mallory belonged together. She talked to me, but all her attention focused on Mallory. Maybe I should wish for my own fairy.
I opened the journal again and Malachite put a paw on the page, right under my last entry. Almost as if it were pointing to it. Get a grip, Angela. Cats don’t point. I gazed into its amber eyes. It was a cat, behaving like a cat, and nothing more.
I reread my last entry and the last words I had written mocked me.
How could I ask for something as frivolous as a fairy when I had put Mrs. Clark’s teaching career in jeopardy? I couldn’t. Besides, I had a part time cat, and Malachite would probably think a fairy was nothing more than a good snack.
Snapping the cover closed, I put Malachite on the ground, snatched up my bag, and stormed out the door. Thinking about things made me feel worse.
<
br /> Having a journal that gave you what you asked for should have been the best thing in the world. Life should be fabulous and full of flying and pizza deliveries to class. Instead, I felt like everything was going wrong.
I waited at the lunch tables to see whether Mallory would join me. The wind carried the lunch smells from the cafeteria. The scent of tacos and corn dogs battled with mustard and pickles from the homemade lunches.
Odd. I would have expected Malachite to have followed me to the lunch area so it could beg for handouts. But as soon as we left the library, it disappeared.
Exiting the building across the quad, Billy Shipman pushed past the other kids. Shoving, flicking ears, and body slamming, he was worse than ever. The more I watched him the angrier I got. He should have learned something when Spike terrorized him.
Obviously not.
He approached the planter as dark clouds rolled in casting shadows over the entire quad.
I whipped out the journal and wrote:
Billy should run into the planter and trip over it.
That’d show him. He should pay attention to where he walked instead of plotting who to hurt next.
Lightning flashed and the sky crackled.
“Bwauck ... bwauck.” He walked next to Zach and flapped his arms. “How’s Chicken-boy?” The thunder nearly drowned out Billy’s taunts.
Zach barely glanced at Billy and quickened his step.
I shook my head. Zach was trying to do what the school taught about bullies—ignore them and walk away. Like Billy wouldn’t be able to keep up. I held my breath. They had reached the planter.
Billy’s foot caught the corner of the planter as he raised his hand to whack Zach on the back of the head. Both boys crashed to the ground and Billy landed on Zach.
Malachite leaped out from the shrubbery in the center of the planter and paced along the edge.
When Billy scrambled to his feet, he kicked Zach in the midsection. “Watch where you’re going, Chicken-boy.” He kicked Zach’s book bag across the quad.
Zach lay on the ground, moaning. His ribs had to be cracked from the kick Billy gave him.
I spotted Ms. Landau a building over. She faced the other direction, but she had to have heard the commotion going on behind her. Why didn’t she go help Zach? Was she afraid of getting into trouble like Mrs. Clark?
Billy Shipman didn’t seem to care that a teacher was nearby.
The way rumors spread, everyone on campus knew what’d happened between Cynthia and Mrs. Clark by now. Soon it would be the stuff of Liberty Middle School legend. And the bullies would rule the school if the teachers were afraid to face them down.
Mallory ran up behind me. “What happened to Zach? Why isn’t anyone helping him?”
She dropped her lunch on the table and ran to Zach. She stopped just short of where he lay and her back stiffened as she gazed at him. Then she knelt and held out her hand.
Billy towered over Mallory. “Leave the little worm alone.”
My heart jumped into my throat. Was Mallory about to get pounded? I stood and my muscles tensed, ready to run to her rescue.
Mallory jumped to her feet and shoved her finger right in Billy’s face. “You’re nothing but a big coward, Billy Shipman.”
Billy jerked his head away from her finger and stepped back.
Snickers ran through the gathering crowd. The sight of Billy Shipman recoiling from Mallory would delight many for quite some time.
But I feared the backlash. Running over, I elbowed my way through the crowd until I stood next to Zach.
“I am not a coward.” Billy’s face turned red and his nose wrinkled as he frowned and took a step forward. He leaned in, his fists tightened and the veins popped out on his neck. “You’d better watch what you say, runt.”
Ms. Landau glanced our direction then turned away. Should I help Mallory, or go back and write something in the journal to calm the situation?
Mallory made a big production of yawning and patting her mouth. “Threats are getting old. Of course you can beat me up. You’re bigger than me.”
Amazed, I stared at Mallory.
“You’re twice my size, for crying out loud.”
She’d let Cynthia walk all over her, but now she laid down the law to Billy Shipman as if she’d been doing it her whole life. Maybe her crystal was more than just a pretty rock.
I held out a hand to help Zach up from the ground. He grunted as I pulled him by the arm and his body stayed hunched.
“Yeah. You need to leave us alone.” He clutched his side where Billy had kicked him.
Billy sneered at Zach. “You looking to get beat up again, Taylor?” He shook his head. “You just don’t learn, do you?”
I jumped between Zach and Billy.
Mallory planted a hand in the middle of Billy’s chest and stopped him from moving forward. “Do you think picking on Zach makes you look like a tough guy?”
Mallory? I couldn’t believe my eyes.
She appealed to the crowd. “Does anyone think Billy is cool or tough for beating up Zach?”
Murmurs rippled through the mob. Someone at the back yelled No! More and more voices called out No, until they ran together.
Ms. Landau wouldn’t be able to ignore things for much longer.
Billy spun and tried to see who spoke out so he could make threats, but there were too many.
Mallory turned and whispered to me. “Help me up.”
She put her foot on the planter ledge and I let her use my shoulder to climb on top. She held up both hands to quiet the crowd.
Chapter Sixteen - Broken Friendship
Although shorter than most of her classmates, Mallory made an impressive figure standing with arms outstretched and fingers splayed, the sun glinting off her glasses. She stood statue still, rigid except her hair, which swirled in the breeze. No trembling knees or anything else.
The chatter slowed and an eerie quiet spread through the quad as everyone waited for Mallory to speak. She lowered her hands to her side.
“It’s time to warn the bullies in this school. We’re done!”
Not a stutter in sight.
Everyone in the quad stared at her, spellbound. Except Billy. His nose wrinkled and upper lip curled; he looked confused.
“We’re done trying to avoid their notice. We’re done being afraid some coward will pick on us. And most of all, we’re done standing by and watching them pick on our friends.”
The crowd’s rumblings surged.
“If we stick up for one another, the bullies will back down. Together, there are more of us than there are of them, and they can’t take us all on at once.”
Mallory scanned the eyes of the kids gathered round. “Who is with me?” Her arm shot back up in the air. “No-More-Bullies! No-More-Bullies!” She punctuated each word with a fist pump.
Zach and I joined her during the second time through, clapping with each word. “No-More-Bullies!”
One by one more voices joined the chant until the entire quad chanted and clapped with Mallory. Ms. Landau finally faced our direction.
While everyone focused on Mallory, I snuck a glance at Billy Shipman and nearly laughed. His face showed a mass of emotions. Surprise, frustration, anger ... and the hint of fear. His fists clenched and unclenched as if he didn’t know what to do. He must have finally realized being bigger than everyone else didn’t work against so many.
He pushed Andrea as he tried to make his way out of the crowd. She pushed back. Billy cocked his fist.
And froze.
The kids in the group circled behind Andrea, still chanting but changed from clapping to slugging their palms.
Billy dropped his arm and fled.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Ms. Landau made her way through the clumps of students. Andrea called out to her as she passed, and she stopped. From the look of things, the kids surrounding Andrea weren’t wasting any time filling Ms. Landau in on what happened.
Zach held up his han
d to help Mallory off the planter ledge, but doubled over in pain before he raised it halfway.
“C’mon.” I held out my hand. “You were fantastic, Mallory.” I couldn’t believe the change my friend had gone through.
She hopped down and beamed. “Thanks. Something inside me snapped when Billy told me to leave Zach on the ground.”
As the mob dispersed, they stopped to say a word to Mallory or give her a high-five, or slap her on the back. She might be more beat up by her new friends than by Billy.
When everyone else left, Zach faced her. “Uh, thanks. You were awesome.” His face turned a dusky red.
Mallory’s cheeks flushed and her eyes shone. She stuck out her hand and Zach grabbed it and gave it an awkward shake.
Following the pointing fingers of Andrea’s group, Ms. Landau took Zach aside to talk to him.
We walked toward the lunch tables. “What got into you, Mal? I mean, I’m amazed, but it was soooo not you. Do you think your skull had anything to do with it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t take the bullying any longer. Especially after this morning; I don’t want my mom called to school ever again.” She glanced over her shoulder as Ms. Landau led Zach into the office. “I hope his ribs aren’t broken.”
I straddled the bench. “Me, too. I didn’t mean for Zach to get caught up in Billy’s fall.” The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“What are you talking about, Angela?”
She snatched my journal out of the backpack, but I pulled it away.
Mallory crossed her arms and glared at me. “Angela Ashby, what did you write?”
I flipped through the pages and turned the book toward her.
She read my last entry and her face flushed. “You did it again. After I begged you not to?”
“But I wanted to stop Billy. He hit and shoved kids as he passed them.”
She pushed the book toward me. “Don’t you understand? By tripping Billy, you’re no better than he is. You’re even more cowardly because you did it from afar.”
The Journal of Angela Ashby Page 10
