The Curse of the Lion's Heart

by Angella Graff

  “You’re Alexandra, right?” she said as she shoved one of her fries into a huge pile of mustard.

  “Yeah,” I said, but felt instantly terrible that I couldn’t remember her name. “Uh I don’t um… know your name.”

  She stared at me and after a second, she laughed. “The teacher called me before you showed up. My name is Penelope, but the jerks at this school call me Penny. Some kid made it up in fourth grade and I haven’t been able to shake the nickname since.”

  “Oh.” I knew exactly what it felt like to have some stupid nickname haunting you, so I said, “Penelope, cool name.”

  “Yeah right,” she said with a sneer. “My mom had some stupid love affair with what she calls classic names. What I’d give for a name like Alexandra. Or even something as lame as Misty, you know.” She paused and smiled at me. “So what was up with your freak out in class?”

  My face flared up red again and I looked down. “I was just um… you know… lost in my thoughts or whatever,” I mumbled. It was the best I could come up with on the spot, and it sounded so lame. I looked up at her, hoping she was going to buy it and not ask me for more details.

  Penelope had a look on her face saying she didn’t totally believe me, but after a moment she waved a hand covered in silver rings and said, “Yeah that happens to me all the time.”

  I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and took a second to appreciate her letting me off the hook. It was nice, and no one had been that nice to me in my life. We smiled at each other again, and then we just started talking. Talking about nothing, about anything, like normal friends did, and it felt really good. I told her about my sister, who she said sounded cool and I wasn’t surprised since Penelope looked a lot like Amanda did in her middle school days. She said she had a brother who was two, and the most horrible thing to live with of all time. We shared about our parents, how annoying my mom was with her Chakra chants and vegan juice diets, and she said her mom was really similar. She said she didn’t know her dad, and I told her she was lucky since mine was super nerdy and always tried to be cool in front of my friends.

  We were so lost in our conversation that lunch passed before we knew it, and soon the bell was ringing for us to finish up. We had two classes together after lunch, which was cool because Penelope was my first friend here, and what felt like my first friend ever. She was nice, and she didn’t care about my spazzing out in English, and when Misty Brown and her gaggle of puppy dog boys walked by our table and laughed, she threw some of her mustard covered french fries at them and it hit Misty right in the middle of her light pink blouse.

  Misty gave a loud squeal, and huffed as she scrambled to wipe away the large, yellow stain. “Thanks a lot, loser,” she sneered, shoving a lock of her blonde hair over her shoulder.

  “Any time, Misty, any time,” Penelope said with a sarcastic waggle of her fingers.

  I snickered behind my hand and when Misty and her trail of boys were out of earshot, I burst into giggles. “That was awesome!”

  “Well I’ve had the displeasure of knowing her since kindergarten,” Penelope said with a grimace. “And yeah, she’s always been like that. She thinks she’s so cool and so mature because she has an older sister in beauty school and her mom lets her dye her hair. Like somehow it’s cool to have your hair looking like a frizzed-out poodle or something.”

  I laughed again and shook my head. “My mom always says girls like that will end up fat, pregnant housewives.”

  “Your mom sounds awesome,” Penelope said with dreamy eyes. “My mom’s a total hippy. I’ve never had meat in my entire life, and she makes us do all kinds of centering rituals and she gets me up a half hour early every day for sun salutations.”

  “What are sun salutations?” I asked.

  “It’s yoga,” Penelope said with a wave of her hand. “It’s totally lame, and I think I might die if anyone saw what my house was like in the mornings.”

  “Well my mom’s just as bad with her stupid juice and shake diets, and she listens to these dumb chanting cd’s in the car every morning. She loves steak though, so I don’t think she’d ever give up meat, even though she insists one day we’re going to be a ‘plant strong’ family. Whatever that means.”

  The soft ping of the second bell signaled lunch was over. History was our next class, which was all the way on the other side of the building. We had to pass through the eighth grader’s hall, which made me nervous all over again. They might have been only a year older than us, but they looked so much bigger and so much more mature.

  Half of them were roaming the halls with their boyfriends and girlfriends, holding hands and even making out beside the lockers. They stared at us as Penelope and I walked through as quickly as we could, and I kept my gaze down at the floor so I wouldn’t make eye contact.

  Just before we reached the history hall, I felt a shove against my shoulder. Looking up as I stumbled, I caught a glimpse of the dark-haired boy again. He had stumbled into me and our eyes locked for a second, just before he readjusted his bag and hurried off.

  I frowned and looked over at Penelope who was messing with a very bright colored rainbow button on her backpack. “Do you know that kid?” I asked as we walked through the door into the history classroom.

  “Oh yeah, he came here a couple of years ago from England. He’s totally got an accent and everything.” She grinned wickedly as she grabbed my arm and pulled me to the very back of the room. “He’s in eighth grade so we’ve never talked, but I’ve seen him around. He went to my elementary school the year before last.”

  The classroom was set up differently than the others, with their desks all facing front. This class was split down the middle, the desks on the right facing the desks on the left with a huge path down the center. The teacher’s desk was at the front, near the large, white smart board, and every inch of the wall behind it was covered with huge books, stacks of papers, and weird little wooden, carved trinkets on the shelves.

  The walls in the rest of the class were decorated, too, with maps from all over the world. Some of them looked like the regular classroom maps, brightly colored and laminated, but some looked old, yellowed and drawn in ink and charcoal.

  Penelope and I settled into the desks, dropping our bags beside the chairs, and she kicked her feet up onto the chair in front of her, glaring at a very short, timid looking girl who tried to sit there. I frowned but didn’t say anything as I pulled out my heavy, thick history text book and my notebook.

  “So that guy, the kid from England,” I said, trying to sound casual despite my intense curiosity, “what’s his name?”

  “Jack Collins,” she said and gave me a grin. “Why, you like him or something? You want me to tell him for you?”

  My face flared bright red and I shook my head so hard my hair went flying in front of my eyes. I pushed it away impatiently and growled out, “No, I don’t like him!” It was even more embarrassing than getting caught talking to a ghost in the middle of class, but I didn’t want to seem overly defensive. My mom always said that was the most telling sign of guilt, so I took a deep breath and gave a casual shrug. “I just ran into him earlier and he seemed totally weird.” It was a lie, sure, but the last thing I needed was for Penelope to think I was interested in him. And really, he was a little weird, not that I could judge, but it seemed like a fair assessment. Penelope looked a little deflated and gave a shrug. “Yeah well, he is kind of odd I guess. He moved here with his uncle and sister. Her name is Sophie, she just started at the high school this year, and they like, never talked to anyone. Their uncle is super strange, too, and no one knows what he does, but they live in this huge house and have tons of money.”

  Well that was intriguing, I thought as the rest of the students filed in. Lots of money, not from this country, creepy uncle and never talked to anyone. I loved a good mystery, especially one that didn’t involve ghosts. As I contemplated what Jack’s story might be, I smelled a heavy perfumed scent and looked over with horror
as Misty and two of the boys slid into the desks next to mine.

  I rolled my eyes and looked over at Penelope who was glowering at the blonde. “Oh you couldn’t find anywhere else to sit?” Penelope asked, leaning across her desk and half over mine to glare harder at Misty.

  The snooty blonde girl gave her best, most charming smile. “I just figured if I wanted some entertainment, why not sit next to the loser and her freak friend.”

  I blushed but Penelope reached into her bag, wadded up a piece of loose paper and lobbed it right at Misty, hitting her in the side of the face. Misty went pink, but right then the teacher walked in and fixed a firm glare on Penelope.

  “This is not how I want our first day to go,” she said in a voice that was deeper than I expected. She was really, really tall, wearing thin, grey pants and a button up shirt to match. Her hair was short, and her face was long, the skin almost stretched over her bones. She had strange, beady eyes, but something about her was friendly, and I felt myself relax a little bit as she approached our desks.

  “As I’m sure you’ve heard many times today, this is middle school. I expect a level of maturity and responsibility that children of your age are capable of giving. This is going to be very different than last year, but with any luck, we’re going to enjoy it. At least in my class. I’ve gotten the unofficial award for being the coolest teacher in the school for twelve years running, and I plan to make this year number thirteen. All I ask is that you follow my simple rules, and I think we’ll get along just fine.”

  I instantly loved her. She went on to explain that her name was Katherine McKinley, and that we could call her Kate as long as none of the other teachers heard us doing it. She gave us her simple rules in the class, which was to show up on time, participate in the discussions, and to not be afraid to speak up when there was something we wanted to know, or something we disagreed with. She said that disagreements were what made brilliant scholars, and brilliant scholars was what she expected us to be as we grew up and moved on with our lives.

  She was treating us like grownups, I realized, as she finished her welcome lecture. I suddenly felt mature, like school was a career and not some bottomless pit of homework and bullies and horrible cafeteria food. I felt myself fluff up a little, sit a bit taller, my back a little straighter.

  “Now, I don’t want to bombard you with a bunch of information or lessons on your first day. I should,” she said with a wink, “but I won’t.”

  Everyone laughed politely except for Penelope who sat in her chair, sullen, eyes staring down at her desk. The teacher began to pass out a sheet with the basic, get-to-know-you questions on it, and I took that moment to lean over to my new friend.

  “What’s wrong?” I whispered as I shuffled around in my bag for a pencil.

  Penelope gave a shrug and started sketching a black rose with her pen in the corner of the page. “Nothing. This is just a stupid class.”

  My eyes widened with surprise. A stupid class? Had Penelope been in the rest of the classes with the ancient English teacher, the math teacher who spit when he talked, and the science teacher who droned on and on until you felt like falling asleep? Compared to all of them, Kate was a miracle! She was friendly and she didn’t talk down to us, and it didn’t take a genius to tell that this year in her class was actually going to be fun.

  “You’re nuts, this class is probably the best we’ve got all year,” I said.

  “Trust me, it’s not,” Penelope hissed back.

  “Problem, girls?” came a voice hovering over us.

  I flushed and looked up at Kate who was staring down at us with a small smile. “Uh no, sorry,” I muttered as I shoved my face directly over my question sheet.

  Kate stood there for a minute, looking between me and Penelope, and then she gave a small sigh. “I promise it’s not going to be that bad. I think we’re off to a great start already.”

  I started to answer her when I noticed Kate wasn’t talking to me. She was looking directly at Penelope, who was looking anywhere but at the teacher’s face. It was really the strangest exchange I’d ever seen, but I decided that the questions on the paper were probably a better idea than trying to grill Penelope again.

  “Do you know how they got divorced in Ancient Rome?” Kate asked at the end of class as we were all getting our things put away.

  Everyone looked around at each other, wondering if it was an honest question or some kind of joke. I looked at Penelope who rolled her eyes and said nothing as she angrily shoved her text book back into her bag.

  Eventually, one brave girl from the other side of the room said, “Um? They had to ask Caesar?”

  Kate smiled and hopped up on her desk, crossing one leg over the other. “Nope. If you wanted to get divorced in Ancient Rome, you just had to put all of their shoes outside the door.” She paused and then with a huge grin said, “Luckily for me, they could never divorce me. They’d never be able to get all of my shoes outside.”

  We all had a quiet chuckle except my new friend who rolled her eyes again, and was out the door way ahead of everyone else the moment the bell sounded. I hurried after her, glancing back at the teacher one last time to see her smile had faded and her concerned gaze followed us out.

  I caught up with Penelope just down the hall and grabbed her arm. “What’s the big rush?” I asked.

  She pulled away and began walking, keeping her eyes down as she spoke. “I just… I don’t like that teacher, okay? And I thought maybe you wouldn’t be fooled by her stupid jokes and stupid, ‘I’m a cool teacher, I’m not like other teachers,’ routine. But you’re just like everyone else.”

  I felt my face go hot with anger as I hurried to keep pace with her. “That’s not fair,” I said as we hurtled toward the gym for P.E. She was walking a break-neck speed, but I was determined to figure out what was wrong with my new friend. She may not have been the most pleasant person in the world, but she was my first real friend and I didn’t want to lose her over something I didn’t even understand.

  “Yeah, it is fair. You seemed cool, but you’re just like Misty and everyone else,” Penelope barked.

  We turned the corner into the gym hall and I grabbed her sweater, not letting her walk into the locker room just yet. “She was nice, okay,” I defended. “She didn’t talk to me like I was an idiot. She didn’t talk to anyone like they were idiots. She treated us like people, not just stupid kids and I don’t see what’s so wrong with that. So what if she told lame jokes?”

  “You thought her jokes were lame?” Penelope asked in a very quiet voice.

  I smiled a little and shrugged. “Well yeah, sure. The last one especially. I mean it wasn’t funny, but it was better than getting spit on by Mr. Andrews.”

  Penelope couldn’t help her grin. “Yeah, we might want to bring an umbrella next class.”

  I giggled. “And maybe slip him some breath mints.”

  We both had quiet giggle which ended in a heavy sigh and she shrugged. “I just didn’t want her class, and I got put there anyway, and I was kind of hoping you would hate her, too.”

  “I don’t see why you hate her,” I pressed, still absolutely confused. Had Penelope had her as a teacher before? That wasn’t possible considering it was her first year at middle school too, and Kate had already said that she had been teaching here for twelve years.

  Penelope hesitated, looking around to make sure not a soul was around us. She grabbed my arm and pulled me next to the large machine that dispensed juices and soda, and lowered her voice to a near whisper. “You have to swear you’re not going to repeat what I’m about to tell you.”

  My eyebrows rise, my curiosity piqued. No one had ever trusted me with a secret before and my mind whirred. Had she been held back? Secret spy? Was she some sort of vampire teen who was doomed to repeat the same grade over and over again? “I swear,” I said, holding my hand over my heart.

  Penelope lowered her voice even more and said, “Ms. McKinley is my mom.”

  Chapter Three


  Ainsworth

  We went into gym right after that because the warning bell rang, and I couldn’t think of anything at all to say. I mean, yeah, I’d probably be totally embarrassed if my mom ever tried to teach, but my mom was so… weird. And intense, and she could barely handle me and my sister when Amanda was at home. I didn’t even want to think about her losing her temper if there were thirty of us all crammed together.

  Still, I could think of way worse things than having your mom as your teacher. Like ghosts, for one. I mean, getting caught arguing with some Victorian ghost girl in the middle of class with everyone watching… oh man…

  I started to blush again as we shuffled into the gym with the rest of the kids who, like me, looked like they wanted no part of this experience. No one liked gym. Not even in elementary school, except the kids who were obsessed with basketball or soccer.

  We were all directed to a long bench in front of a wooden wall, and I scooted up to Penelope who kept shooting me warning looks. Her cheeks were all pink, and I figured she was completely scared that I was going to blurt it out in the middle of class.

  I realized I hadn’t actually said anything after she told me, so before the teacher began to talk, I leaned over and whispered, “I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

  She gave a sigh, relaxing almost immediately, and whispered back, “Thanks.”

  After that, we were subjected to the gym teacher’s incredibly long lecture about the do’s and don’t’s of gym, what to wear, and how we were going to push our own physical boundaries blah blah blah. The gym teacher looked suspiciously like another teacher I’d seen in the history hall. He was pretty young, taller than anyone I’d ever met with huge, broad shoulders, a thick moustache, and his hairline was so far back the gym lights bounced off his shiny forehead.