The Journal of Angela Ashby

by Liana Gardner

  Zach pulled his lunch out and put it on the table. Bologna and cheese with chips and an apple on the side. “Do you have a plan B if I can’t get the journal out of her bag?”

  Plan B? We barely had plan A. “Um, you’re it.”

  Zach grabbed his chin and closed his eyes. A moment later, he opened them. “Got it. If I can’t nab the journal out of her pack, then I help Mallory up on the lunch table and she rallies everyone like she did with Billy Shipman and we get the whole school telling Cynthia to give it back.”

  Mallory’s complexion paled. “I’m not sure I can do it again, Zach. I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  Zach waved his hand through the air. “You were fantastic. The words will come to you.”

  Mallory’s eyes widened. “Let’s hope we don’t have to.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six - Rescuing the Journal

  The lunch tables filled with our classmates, and still no Cynthia. What if they’d already suspended her and sent her home?

  Someone clopped the back of my head. I fell forward and squished the sandwich I hadn’t been able to eat as I caught myself before I dove off the bench.

  Cynthia’s laugh rang out. “Not so tough when no teacher is watching, are you?”

  I took a deep breath and prepared to battle. At least she hadn’t been sent home yet. Maybe we could help her on her way.

  “Sneaking up from behind?” I let a burst of air escape between my teeth. “Coward.”

  Her laughter changed to a snarl. “What did you call me?”

  I stood and faced her across the lunch table. “I called you a coward.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zach move away from us.

  “It’s what you call someone who picks on people smaller than they are.”

  Cynthia’s fists curled.

  “I looked it up in the dictionary and they had your picture there.”

  Cynthia swung her fist. I danced out of the way. Hindered by the table, her punch fell short. She moved around the table.

  The kids around us whispered to one another.

  Cynthia came closer. I tried to stay out of arm’s reach, but moving backward through the lunch area was like dancing through a minefield. I didn’t know when I’d trip over a table or someone’s bag on the ground, but I couldn’t stop to look.

  Cynthia cocked her fist back and lashed out at my head. I ducked and ran behind her.

  “Fight!”

  I didn’t see who yelled, but it was a couple tables from where we were.

  More kids took up the cry of fight.

  Cynthia turned to chase me and her eyes got wide. She lunged, but not at me.

  I spun around. Zach. At least he had the journal in his hands.

  The crowd chanted. Fight—fight—fight.

  Zach edged around a table, trying to put obstacles between them.

  I pushed through the crowd. If I took the journal from him, she’d focus on me. I didn’t want to be responsible for Zach getting hurt again. I had learned my lesson. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.

  Mallory got there first. She grabbed the journal and instead of running away, jumped on top of the table.

  Where were the teachers? Shouldn’t someone have noticed the commotion by now? We’d have to handle this ourselves.

  I sprinted and reached the table before Cynthia could and stood between her and Mallory. She’d have to go through me before I’d let her hurt my friend.

  Mallory held the journal over her head with both hands. “Quiet!”

  I’d never heard Mallory yell so loud before. Shushing replaced the chanting.

  Plan B coming up.

  “This notebook was stolen from my friend, and Cynthia refused to give it back. Are we going to let her get away with it?”

  A universal cry of No rang out.

  Finally, I saw adult movement on the fringes of the crowd. Again, Mrs. Clark waded in, but this time she had back up. Mr. Perry followed her.

  Kids moved to the side to allow them to come through.

  Mrs. Clark arched an eyebrow. “Miss Chan, please have one of your friends help you down. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  Zach reached up and offered Mallory a hand. She grabbed it and stepped down to the bench, and hopped to the ground. She handed me the journal.

  I felt ridiculously relieved to have it in my hands again. I couldn’t open it to see what Cynthia had done to the inside. Like cut out pages, or mark things with black ink. At least not until there were fewer eyes watching.

  Mrs. Clark folded her arms. “Thank you. Now Miss Chan, please explain what you were doing on the table.”

  By the glint in her eye, she knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted someone to tattle on Cynthia, but she didn’t want them to be shunned for doing it. Mallory didn’t have a choice.

  Mallory took a deep breath. “Cynthia stole Angela’s notebook and wouldn’t give it back. Then she hit Angela and tried to pick a fight with her.”

  Mrs. Clark scanned the crowd. Several students nodded. She turned to Mr. Perry. “Well, it seems Miss Benson has earned herself another trip to the office.” She held her arm out. “This way Miss Benson. And let’s not have a repeat of last time.”

  Cynthia’s face scrunched up like she was trying to hold back tears when the crowd cheered.

  It was almost enough to make me feel sorry for her.

  Almost.

  I clutched the notebook to my chest. I couldn’t believe I had it back again. I looked from Zach to Mallory. “Thanks so much. You don’t know what this means to me.” Well, Mallory knew, but I doubt even she realized how important it was to me to get things fixed as soon as possible. I hadn’t had a chance to tell her how well my parents were getting along.

  Zach eyed the journal. “It must be important for you to go to the lengths you did to get it back.”

  I couldn’t tell him why it was so important, but I felt I owed him some sort of explanation. He put himself in harm’s way to help me out. “It is important, to me. It’s my journal where I write my private thoughts. Just think of what Cynthia would do with those.”

  Zach nodded. “I totally understand.”

  “Thanks again for getting it back for me. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  I hugged Mallory. “And you are the best friend. Ever!”

  When I released her, Zach jabbed her lightly on the shoulder. “Mallory is the best.”

  Her grin was so wide, her eyes narrowed into slits.

  Mallory and I met on the athletic field after school let out. She needed to collect Tatiana for the walk home and I wanted to look at the journal with no one else around.

  Expecting the worst, I opened the cover. No black marks. Even the name wasn’t inked out. I thought for sure she’d black out my name and write hers in, so when I accused her of stealing it she could say her name was in the front.

  I flipped through the pages.

  “Well? Did she do anything to it?”

  “No. It’s weird. I thought she’d put something in the journal. Or tease me about what’s inside. Something.”

  Mallory looked at the sky. “I have an idea. Hand it to me.”

  I gave her the journal. Malachite snuck out of the bushes and joined us.

  Mallory opened it, flipped through the pages and smiled. “I don’t see anything.”

  “What do you mean? I have pages filled with writing.”

  Her grin widened. “I know, but the only thing I can see is your name in the front.”

  “But you saw the writing in there before. How come you can’t see it now?”

  “I think there’s a charm on it. I saw the writing because you held the journal. The writing is revealed to the owner of the book.” She tapped her index finger against her lips. “I have another idea, hand me a pen.”

  Bewildered, I grabbed a pen and gave it to her. She scribbled on the page, then flipped to the back and scribbled some more.

  “Here.” She handed the journal back to
me. “It wouldn’t let me write anything either.”

  I opened it. My familiar scrawl greeted me. I flipped through the pages. No scribbles, nothing but my own writing.

  Mallory peeked over my shoulder. “I can see the writing now.”

  Understanding dawned. “Cynthia never saw a single word of what I wrote, so she doesn’t know the journal is magic.” My lips puffed out from the force of my breath. “What a relief. Even though she’s in trouble, I was afraid she’d start making noises about what she read.”

  Mallory giggled. “Just think of her confusion when she opened it and saw nothing there and couldn’t write in it. She saw us talking about stuff on the page.”

  I stared at my last entry in the journal. My heart sank. “Mal, what if I can’t undo this?”

  She patted me on the back. “I think you can, Angela. I’ve been thinking about how it works and all the things you’ve done with it.”

  I lowered my voice so Tatiana wouldn’t hear me. “But when I tried to make you-know-who go away, I couldn’t.”

  “You didn’t want her to go away, though. You were laughing too hard. Think about it, what about your mom’s job?”

  I thought for a moment. “I made her lose her job.”

  “Yeah, but when you wanted her to get another one, a better one, she did.”

  Oh yeah.

  “So I think it works based on how much you want something. The only question is do you want your parents to get back together more than you want your baby brother to have a two-parent family?”

  I sat stunned. It wasn’t enough for me to write it. I had to mean it.

  She put her hand on my shoulder. “It’s up to you.”

  I grabbed a pen. My hand hovered over the page. I wanted Mom and Dad back together, but I didn’t want my brother to grow up without a father. I closed my eyes and hoped my heart would give me the right words to put down. I took a slow breath in and exhaled.

  And then I knew.

  Journal, I don’t know if you can ignore what I wrote before, but I’d like for you to forget putting my parents back together. I didn’t know some things at the time I wrote it which change how I feel. So if you can erase the bit about my parents getting back together. I know what I really want.

  I want my parents to get along. I don’t want them to fight anymore. I want us to be able to have family get-togethers without tension. I want my dad to stay with Holly and be there for my baby brother. I want to be close to my brother. I want to be a good example for him and someone he can be proud of. And if it means it will help make things better for Dad and my brother, I want to get along better with Holly. Help us to be an extended, but happy family.

  I put the pen down and stared at the entry. “What do you think, Malachite?”

  She put her nose next to the page, almost as if she were reading it, and purred.

  I moved the book over so Mallory could read it.

  She grabbed my arm.

  I stared.

  The entry about my parents getting back together faded and disappeared.

  A smile spread across my face. “It’s time to get T and go home.”

  I opened the door of the empty house. Funny how much a few days can change things. I used to dread coming home to an empty house, but now it was for a couple hours and Mom would be home. Things were finally settling into a routine, and one I could live with.

  After I wrote the journal entry, my heart lightened. Things were going to be better. Mom and Dad would be nicer to each other, I’d get along with Holly, and I’d have a wonderful baby brother who would look up to his big sister.

  The phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Angela. It’s Holly.”

  Why would Holly call me?

  “I’m glad you’re home from school. I want to go shopping for some baby things and wanted to know whether you’d like to go with me. I’ve already cleared it with your mom.”

  Holly wanted me to go shopping with her?

  “That’d be cool.”

  “Fantastic. I’ll be there in about ten minutes to pick you up.”

  I hung up the phone and ran upstairs with Malachite at my heels.

  Pulling the journal out of my backpack, I carefully placed it on the bookshelf. I didn’t want anything to happen to it ever again. I still had no idea why Madame Vadoma gave it to me. And there was no question it was meant for me because my name was inside. Why was I destined to have great power?

  I glanced at Malachite. She stared directly into my eyes.

  “All in due time ...”

  My mouth popped open. I could have sworn I heard Malachite speak to me.

  She blinked, and I heard words again.

  “All in due time ...”

  A Note From the Author

  Dear Reader,

  When I was twelve, I remember having plans and dreams ... things I didn’t want to share with anyone for fear someone would try to talk me out of it or worse, tell me it was a stupid idea. I have always loved making up stories, but by that age would not have dreamed of becoming an author because I had been told I would never be able to make a living by writing. It wasn’t until years later I learned that the important thing was to follow my passions and by doing so I can build the life I want to live. And one of the things that makes me the happiest is writing down my stories for you to read.

  So if there is something you want to do—a passion you want to follow, then don’t let any obstacle get in your way. Don’t let any person tell you, you can’t do it. Work at it, because everything worth accomplishing takes work, but enjoy the journey. And above all ...

  DON’T WAIT

  ... to follow your dreams. Do what you can today to develop the skills, get the education, and practice what you want to become. Because in the end, you are in control of your own destiny.

  I thought it would be fun to give you space to capture your dreams and aspirations, so at the end of the book are journal pages to write down what you want out of life—to later look back on and see whether you accomplished your goals. Sort of a mini-time capsule, just for you, in book form.

  Liana

  Acknowledgements

  No book ever goes to print without an army of people behind it making it happen. The Journal of Angela Ashby is no exception. I am blessed to have such a strong support team behind me and cannot thank them enough for all they do. So to all who have read, provided feedback, and listened to me ramble on about plot bunnies and other problems, a HUGE THANK YOU! And a few special mentions:

  Linda Welch for being my “ear” during the writing process and my first round editor, words enough are not enough. I couldn’t have done it without you—and you had Angela, the right little madam, pegged from the beginning.

  To Emma Wood for recommending to let my fantasy take flight, thanks for all the extra polish.

  Mary Ting for all her assistance in getting the word out and for being a cheerleader alongside Alexandrea Weis.

  Italia Gandolfo for always being there to give either an encouraging word or kick up the backside—whichever is needed most. I couldn’t do this without you and would never want to. You unerringly know how to push the right button to get the story flowing.

  And to my mother for embracing my imagination, teaching me to roll with what life metes out, and for raising me to have the courage to never give up on my dreams.

  About the Author

  Liana Gardner is the multi-award-winning author of 7th Grade Revolution and The Journal of Angela Ashby. The daughter of a rocket scientist and an artist, Liana combines the traits of both into a quirky yet pragmatic writer and in everything sees the story lurking beneath the surface.

  Liana volunteers with high school students through EXP (expfuture.org). EXP unites business people and educators to prepare students for a meaningful place in the world of tomorrow. Working in partnership with industry and educators, EXP helps young people EXPerience, EXPand, and EXPlore.

  Engaged in a battle against leukemia and lymphoma, Liana spen
ds much of her time at home, but her imagination takes her wherever she wants to go.

  www.LianaGardner.com

  www.TheJournalofAngelaAshby.com