So far I had no useful ideas. Maybe thinking about something else would let the ideas start flooding in.
A brother. I was going to have a baby brother. The idea astounded me. And I’d have to make sure I was part of his life. Despite Dad’s assurances, maybe Holly wouldn’t want me to be around him. Would Dad be able to stand up against her?
Then it hit me. If I didn’t get the journal back, and Mom and Dad got back together, Holly might move away with my brother, and I’d never see him. He wouldn’t know who his big sister was.
At least he wouldn’t know it was his big sister who ruined his life.
But I couldn’t let that happen.
The hurt I felt when I learned Mom and Dad were getting a divorce ripped my heart in two. It was the most awful moment of my life. But I had almost twelve years with two parents. I hated not having a dad full time, so how could I take my brother’s dad away before he even arrived?
But I missed my dad and I wanted us to be a family again, and I wanted Mom and Dad to get along.
How could I want two things that were so different? If I did nothing, my parents would get back together, and I’d be in a happy, loving family again. Something I wanted more than anything.
Until now.
If I learned how to reverse the spell and Dad didn’t leave Holly, my baby brother got the life I wanted; a family with both parents living in the same house. But I’d have to get the journal back first.
I needed to talk with Mallory to see what she thought. I slapped my forehead. I forgot we said we’d chat tonight.
I ran up the stairs to my room. Malachite meowed as soon as I opened the door. Oops. I had forgotten she was in my room.
I flipped on my computer and while I waited for it to boot up, I ran downstairs and grabbed a can of tuna and a little bowl with milk. I made it back up before the machine had fully booted. Why did it have to take so long? Even after the desktop appeared, I still had to wait for all the processes to start. If I tried to click something too soon, it slowed everything down.
Calling would be faster. But Mallory’s parents might listen in, and no one could know about the journal. Especially adults.
The network connected. Finally. I brought up a chat window.
Hey RU there? Can U chat?
I stared at the blinking cursor and waited for a response.
After a few moments, the status changed to typing. I exhaled and waited.
Mallory usually responded quickly. She must be writing a book.
Finally, the screen flashed.
hi. it’s t. i’m typing. wheeeee.
My life reached epic crisis mode and Mallory was teaching Tatiana to type? I wanted to pull my hair out.
Fingers trembling, I typed my response.
That’s great, T. But I need to talk to Mallory.
I hit send.
The cursor blinked twice before the status changed to typing.
What’s up?
Relieved, I grabbed the keyboard.
We have to get the journal back tomorrow.
We’ll get it back. Don’t worry.
You don’t understand. It has to be as soon as possible. Things got worse. Holly is going to have a baby. I’ll have a little brother.
The cursor blinked on the screen while Mallory thought through the implications.
Um ... wow. Complicates things a bit.
I gave a short laugh. I had to choose between ruining my life, or that of my unborn baby brother, and oh, by the way, don’t hurt anyone in the process and Mallory thought things were a bit complicated.
My screen flashed again.
The plan remains the same. Get the journal back first, which means distract Cynthia long enough to grab it.
But how did we do that?
Thinking.
Mallory waited a few moments then her words flashed.
Any ideas yet?
I thought about fire for a diversion, but ruled it out. Too risky.
Be serious. We need something simple but effective.
But what?
Keep thinking. G-T-G.
Mallory’s status flashed to offline. Her mom must have come in.
I flopped on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Simple but effective. Easy to say, but hard to think of. Malachite hopped on the bed and meowed tuna breath in my face.
I gathered her into my arms. “What am I going to do?”
Every idea that popped into my head had to be discarded for one reason or another. I couldn’t plan anything to hurt anyone or get someone in trouble. In fact, the only thing that might remotely work was for me to pick an argument with Cynthia during lunch and hope Mallory could steal the journal while we verbally duked it out.
She might not suspect us of trying to get the journal back, because as Mallory pointed out, I liked to bait Cynthia. I’d done it often enough before.
But those times it happened naturally. What if she didn’t do anything for me to attack? What would I say? Would I have to start the fight? Usually Cynthia started and I finished it.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway roused me. I glanced at the clock. Wow, Mom and Dad had been gone longer than I expected.
Chapter Twenty-Five - Battle Plan
I crept out my door and halfway down the stairs and sat listening. The front door opened.
“Thanks for driving, and thank you for dinner.”
I heard the rumble of Dad’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words.
Mom laughed. “Yes, it was nice to spend time together without arguing. We’ll have to do it more often.”
Was that the sound of a kiss? Hopefully just a peck on the cheek. Anything more would be disgusting. I forgot the physical part of Mom and Dad getting back together. How embarrassing.
“Goodnight, Greg. And thanks again.” The front door closed and I heard the bolt snap into place.
I ran down the stairs.
“Hi, honey. I’m going to make some coffee. Would you like some cocoa?”
I followed her into the kitchen. She must be in a good mood to offer cocoa again. This was becoming a habit. “Sure.”
I waited while she prepped the coffee and put the kettle on. “How did the meeting go?”
“Give me just a minute.”
The hot water hit the coffee grounds, and the aroma permeated the air. Coffee smelled so good, but I didn’t like the taste. Too bitter.
The only time I liked coffee was as a little girl with my Grandpa. He made it for me in a demitasse cup. He’d put a little bit of coffee, fill the rest with milk and stir in a spoonful of sugar or two. The spoon barely fit in the cup.
When I visited him, I’d wake up early and sit at the kitchen table on top of the white stool with a green vinyl seat, my head barely over the tabletop. He’d make the coffee, whistling and jingling his keys. I felt so grown up drinking coffee with him. It was our secret while everyone else was still in bed asleep. I missed him.
Mom carried two steaming cups to the table and set them down.
I took a sip and enjoyed the smooth, velvety texture of the cocoa on my tongue. It had the right amount of sweet, and warmth spread through me when I swallowed.
Mom arched her brows. “Well, are you ready to hear about the meeting?”
“More than ready.” And a bit nervous, to tell the truth.
“The committee explained the process they have to go through each time there is a complaint.” She smiled. “And just when everyone in the audience started getting antsy and moving around in their seats, they said in the opinion of the committee Mrs. Clark did no wrong and would return to teaching tomorrow.”
“Yes.” I did a fist pump in the air.
Her smile lingered. “That’s when things got a bit interesting. The Benson’s were there and they objected to the committee decision. The committee had to listen to their complaint and they twisted the occurrence, so several people muttered about sending a teacher who hurt children back to school.”
I stirred my cocoa. This di
dn’t sound good.
“I waited until the Benson’s ran out of things to say then jumped up to address the committee. Actually, I talked more to the audience than to the committee.”
Mom tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“I told them what you told me then asked the committee why a teacher had been removed from school for attempting to protect a student from harm, while the student in question, who from all accounts tripped a classmate and pushed the teacher, was allowed to remain.”
Yes! “You rock, Mom.”
She grinned. “Next Mrs. Chan sprang to her feet and said she wanted to know the same thing. That her child was the one tripped and her version of what happened tallied with what I said.”
I wished I could have been there to see it all in person.
Mom’s spoon clinked against the cup. “And she wanted to know exactly what the committee and the school were going to do about the obvious problem with bullying on campus.”
I took another sip of cocoa and grinned until my cheeks hurt.
“By this time, the Benson’s were looking for the nearest exit, and the crowd furor changed from being with them to against them.”
They were probably afraid a lynch mob would form.
“And the committee advised they would review the case to determine the appropriate disciplinary action for bullying. My guess is your classmate Cynthia is about to be suspended.”
My smile vanished and my eyes widened. “When do you think they’ll suspend her?”
Mom shrugged. “Probably tomorrow.”
Holy mackinole. I couldn’t afford for her to be gone from school for a week. Or even more because she had pushed Mrs. Clark.
It’d make it harder to get my book back. Even if I told Mom about Cynthia stealing the book, because she made the Benson’s look so bad at the meeting, they wouldn’t even talk to her now and would probably gloat that their daughter had stolen something from me. What if they made the decision tonight and Cynthia didn’t even come to school tomorrow.
A horrible thought hit me. What if she were expelled? Or what if her parents decided to pull her out of school? What if I never saw her again?
A sick feeling washed over me. On any other day, I’d have been happy to never lay eyes on Cynthia Benson again ... but today? The thought of never seeing her again made me want to hurl.
“Is something wrong, sweetie?” Mom’s concerned eyes didn’t leave my face.
How much should I tell her? “Um, not really. Cynthia has something of mine, and I wanted to get it back from her tomorrow. If she’s not at school, I won’t be able to.”
Mom tilted her head. “I’m surprised you let her borrow anything of yours. Or did she borrow it before she tripped Mallory?”
I focused on stirring my cocoa. “Not exactly.” I couldn’t lie to Mom.
“Not exactly?”
When I didn’t answer, Mom didn’t push, she patted the back of my hand instead. “I doubt anything will happen before school starts. So find her first thing and if she doesn’t return what’s yours then we’ll go to the Benson’s tomorrow night and get it.”
“Okay.” I’d have to hope not only that Cynthia was at school tomorrow, but that she’d be there long enough for me to get the journal back.
Mom took a sip of coffee, then drummed her fingers against the cup. “I want you to know your father and I had a nice time, too. After the meeting, he took me to dinner, and we chatted like old times.” She smiled. “It was nice to spend time with him where we weren’t arguing about something.”
“That’s good, Mom. I’m glad you had a good time.” Well, sort of.
I didn’t know what I wanted anymore.
Mom set her coffee cup down. “I think we could talk without arguing because he finally told you about the baby being on the way. How do you feel about it?”
I picked at my cuticles. “I dunno. Happy, excited, confused.” The last word slipped out. I didn’t mean it to, but I had too many emotions for one person to make sense of. About the baby? Happy and scared. Having a brother would be a dream come true. But I might not be able to undo what I had written in the journal, so I was afraid I had ruined everything.
Use it wisely. Ha! I had been selfish, and worse, I had deliberately written something to intentionally hurt. So add shame to the list of emotions coursing through me.
“We’re all going to work together to make sure you have a good relationship with your brother.”
But what about her? Would she feel left out? “Aren’t you hurt by Dad having a baby with someone else?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. I couldn’t look her in the eye.
Mom stirred her coffee while she thought out a response then laid the spoon down on her napkin. “I was hurt when your father left me. I’m not going to lie to you, but we weren’t happy together, and hadn’t been for quite a while. He’s happy with Holly, and they’re making their life together.”
She folded her hands and steepled her thumbs. “And, believe it or not, I want him to be happy. He gave me the most precious thing in my life. You.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “And whatever the reasons we didn’t work out, I want you to have a good relationship with him. He’s your father, and that won’t ever change.”
She looked at the clock and dashed the moisture from her eyes. “You’d better finish your cocoa now, and get to bed.” She reached out and brushed the bangs out of my eyes. “And Angela, anytime you need to talk, I want you to talk to me. It doesn’t matter what it’s about. I’ve missed our conversations.”
Guilt raged like a beast inside me. I finally had my mom back and I had missed our chats so much. But what would she think of me if she knew what I had done? Would she hate me?
The sun shone through the curtains, waking me. At least the day wouldn’t be as gloomy as yesterday. Unable to fall into a deep sleep, I had tossed and turned through the night. My mind refused to quiet down.
It would be so nice just to stay in bed today, so I lay there for a few moments. But I needed to face the day. The goal? Get the journal back. Nothing else mattered.
Once I had it back, I’d have to figure my way out of the mess I’d created. But I couldn’t do anything without it. Game plan ... get it back before school. If not, then during lunch. Those were my two best opportunities.
I felt sick to my stomach and didn’t want to eat breakfast. Mom watched me carefully. I tried to act as if nothing was wrong.
“Angela, are you feeling all right?”
And failed miserably. “I didn’t sleep well. That’s all.”
“Do you need to stay home from school today?”
“No, I’m fine.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “If you say so.”
I finished breakfast as fast as possible so I could get dressed and away from her watchful eye.
Mom dropped me off at school before the other kids. I sat on the planter and waited for Mallory to arrive. I hoped she’d come up with an idea, because baiting Cynthia was the best I had.
I no sooner thought of her and the devil appeared. Cynthia approached the school entrance. Would I be able to distract her and steal the journal at the same time? My stomach knotted in about sixteen places
More kids arrived, and teachers made their way to their classroom.
When Cynthia saw me on the planter, her eyes lit up and her mouth curved in an evil grin. She moved in a straight line toward me, glanced up, and stopped. The smile vanished from her face, replaced by a frown.
I peeked over my shoulder and saw Mrs. Clark giving Cynthia a steely-eyed stare, one I was glad wasn’t directed at me. A few of my knots unwound. Mrs. Clark wouldn’t leave until the threat was gone.
Mallory came up the steps behind Cynthia and gave her a wide berth. She joined me on the planter.
Cynthia glared at us, her face flushed, and she stormed off.
There went the first opportunity, but I couldn’t bait her in front of Mrs. Clark anyway.
Mallory
waited until Cynthia was out of earshot. “Did you think of anything?”
“Not really. Did you?”
She shook her head.
“We’ll have to try the only thing I came up with, which is during lunch I’ll purposely pick a fight with her, and you can steal the journal.”
Mallory frowned. “I don’t know whether that will work. She’ll be watching me. Maybe we can get someone else to steal it while she focuses on us. The two of us can distract her better than one.”
I thought for a moment. “That just might work. Who can we trust?”
A blush colored Mallory’s cheeks. “We could ask Zach. He’s been extra nice to me since the Billy Shipman thing.”
The urge to tease her about Zach swelled, but I bit my tongue. If I teased her, she might get funny about asking him to help. And I needed all the help I could get.
“Sounds like a great idea, Mal. You ask him and we’ll plan it for lunchtime. I’ll try to figure out something to pick a fight with her on. Other than the journal.”
“The good thing is she does have the journal with her. Her backpack wasn’t zipped all the way, and I saw the corner of it.”
Relief flooded through me. My knees even felt weak. Good thing I wasn’t standing. Talk about being uptight. Though I still felt sick, a glimmer of hope appeared. I might be able to fix the mess I had made.
The first period bell rang and we parted ways.
When the bell rang for lunch, I couldn’t wait to get out of the classroom. As happy as I was to walk into English and see Mrs. Clark back where she belonged, until I got the journal back, I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.
My heart beat rapidly and my breaths were short and fast. I needed to calm down or I’d hyperventilate. Although, if I passed out in front of Cynthia, it might create the distraction we needed to get the journal back.
I met Zach and Mallory at the lunch tables.
“I told Zach what the journal looks like so he knows what to grab.” Mallory leaned over and whispered in my ear. “And T is on the athletic field so she won’t get in the way.”
The Journal of Angela Ashby Page 16
