The Demon Notebook (11 page)

“Rach!” Grace screamed.

“Come on! We only have a minute!” Jenny cried, propelling the others into action.

Grace raced behind Rachel and looped her arms into her friend's, pinning them behind her back. Jenny fell to her knees, throwing her arms around Rachel's legs and holding on tight. Adie pulled out a porcelain cup just as Rachel began to struggle.

“
Now
!” said Jenny.

Adie smashed the cup on the ground, said
exitus
,
exitus
,
exitus
, and ducked down to grab hold of Rachel's waist as the smoke wafted upward. Rachel thrashed powerfully, refusing to breathe. Her head snapped back, hitting Grace in the forehead and sending her crashing into the wall behind them. Adie leaped up, twisting Rachel's arms behind her again, and receiving a painful head-butt in return. Jenny gritted her teeth and held on fast, waiting for the grappling to end. Finally, they heard the sound of Rachel sucking in air between her teeth. Within moments the struggle was over. Grace crawled forward and looked into Rachel's eyes.

“She's fine,” she said, trying not to aggravate the pain splitting her skull. “You can let go.”

Rachel dropped to the floor, crying out as the pain crunched through her sprained knee. Jenny draped a comforting arm over her, keeping one hand on the floor to monitor the sound beneath.

“I think it's dying down,” she said.

The others listened carefully as the sound retreated, going deeper and deeper. Suddenly, there was a piercing flash of light that sent them sprawling across the floor. Then silence.

“What in God's name is
going
on
in here?!”

The girls blinked and squinted at the figure holding open the double doors. As their eyes recovered from the glaring flash, they could see Mrs. Hennelly in the P block exit, surrounded by students, and looking fiercely annoyed.

“Um,” said Grace, her words a little slurred. “Science experiment?”

“What is that
smell
?”

“What's all over their faces?”

“It's poo!”

“It's not poo. It smells worse than poo.”

Grace wiped her face with her sleeve, keeping her head down as she and her friends passed the humiliating guard of honor that had formed along the corridor. Tittering laughter reverberated around the hall as Mrs. Hennelly led the unfortunate group of girls to Principal Evans's office.

“Don't you all have classes to go to?!” the teacher shrieked, causing the jeering crowd to slowly disperse.

The girls sat down wearily outside the office and waited to be called in.

“Damage to school property,” Mrs. Hennelly muttered, folding her arms, “soiling of your own school uniforms, disrespecting the areas you have been generously given for lunchtimes. I don't know what's come over you girls.
Hmm?
What was going on in there?”

The girls stared quietly ahead and didn't attempt to answer. When the time came, they filed in to the principal's office and stood politely in a straight line. Principal Evans and Vice Principal Collins sat behind a long table, looking perplexed by the four purple-stained faces staring back at them. Nobody spoke for a long minute.

“I guess I have to ask,” sighed Mr. Collins. “What were you girls doing in the P block that resulted in a stained and scorched carpet, a stench that apparently resists even the strongest air fresheners, and a number of minor injuries to yourselves?”

Grace opened her mouth to speak but, unable to think of anything to say, shut it again.

“This is a very serious matter, girls,” Mrs. Evans said, unimpressed by their silence. “We will be contacting your parents, and I expect an explanation before the day is out.”

Nodding curtly to Mr. Collins, she gave the girls one last severe look, wrinkled her nose at the appalling smell, and left. Mr. Collins slumped his shoulders and sighed again.

“This is the second time you all have caused a commotion in recent days. Are you going to give me any explanation? Did this have anything to do with Tracy Murphy?”

Grace jumped at the opportunity.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. We were going to put this smelly stuff in Tracy's locker and…well, there was a bag of it and…”

“I left my glasses sitting on the bag, sir,” Jenny cut in, “right under the window. And the sun was shining in, through the glasses, and it burned the carpet, sir.”

“I've never seen you wear glasses, Jenny,” Mr. Collins said.

“They're ugly, sir. I never wear them. Mom makes me bring them to school, though.”

“Is that right? Go on.”

“The carpet must've been smoldering really close to the bag, sir,” Grace continued, getting into the swing of things now. “And the stuff got warm. And when we picked it up, it burst.”

“It was so loud.” Rachel nodded. “We all got scared and fell back.”

“I hit my head, sir,” said Adie.

“And the smelly stuff went everywhere,” said Grace.

“I hit my head, sir,” repeated Adie, slightly louder.

“I heard you, Adie. Are you all all right? Should I be arranging a ride to the hospital for any of you?”

“No, no,” Grace said, trying to smile. “We're fine. We just got scared, sir.”

“Well,” said Mr. Collins, raising his eyebrows, “that's
some
sort
of explanation, I suppose.”

“Glad we could clear that up, sir,” said Grace, turning to leave with the others.

“Where do you think you're all going?”

The girls turned back to the vice principal with confused faces.

“You brought in some vile-smelling substance to defile another student's locker,” he said, leaning forward. “This disgusting prank went awry, and you ended up defiling an entire school block. Did you think that with that bizarre, and frankly questionable, explanation, you were off the hook?”

“Oh. No, sir,” Grace replied, looking down at her shoes.

“Detention,” he said firmly. “Every lunchtime for two weeks.”

The girls gawked.

“And you're going to help the janitor clean up that mess,” Mr. Collins went on.

“Yes, sir,” the girls chorused in monotone.

“You're dismissed,” he said. “And I don't want to see any of you in this office again!”

***

After many minutes of scrubbing with endless wads of tissue paper, the girls emerged from the bathroom.

“
Two
weeks
of detention!” said Rachel.

“At least it's just at lunchtime,” sighed Grace. “He could have made us do after-school detention.”

“I guess so. But still.”

“Hey!” said Adie, shaking Grace's sleeve. “There's Una! Hey,
Una
!”

Una swerved through the student traffic and made her way over to them, smiling. Adie rushed forward and hugged her.

“How are you? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, Adie. Thank you.”

Adie stepped back to look at her uncertainly, as if waiting for the punch line. Grace frowned.

“We were worried about you, Una. How are you?” she said.

“I'm fine, Grace. Thank you. But I think you should stop.”

“Sorry?”

She stepped forward and stared into Grace's eyes.

“I mean it,” she said in a low, threatening tone. “Stop.”

Grace felt a chill wash over her like she'd never experienced before. She dropped her eyes.

“But now I'm late for class,” the non-Una beamed, suddenly cheerful again. “You should hurry too.”

The girls sadly watched the creature that used to be their friend hurry to class. All that trouble, all that danger, and the incantation hadn't worked. And it was obvious the demon inhabiting Una's body had had enough of their exorcising efforts.

***

Grace scraped at the purple remains of Mrs. Quinlan's potion on her wrist and sighed heavily. She was usually the most conscientious student in her group of friends, but even she was ignoring Ms. Lemon's recitation of the French irregular verbs.

“Mrs. Vander Tramp,” Ms. Lemon called to the class. “Now repeat each verb as I point to the relevant letter. For
M
,
Monter
, for
R
,
Rester,
and so on…Grace, Adie, Jenny! Are you three paying attention, or is something on your desks more interesting?”

“Sorry, Miss,” the girls droned. They reluctantly raised their eyes to the board and repeated the verbs with the rest of the class.

“Excellent,” said Ms. Lemon, rubbing the name off the whiteboard. “Now, I want all of you to write down all fourteen verbs without my help.”

The class groaned as one and opened their notebooks.

“So what now?” Adie whispered, slowly coloring in a corner of her notebook with a blue pen.

“I don't know,” replied Grace, staring at the row of feet under the next table. “I just don't know.”

“I didn't think it would be that hard,” Jenny sniffed. “I don't want to have to do that again.”

“I don't think there'd be much point in doing that again,” Grace murmured. “I mean, it obviously didn't work.”

“I miss Una.” Adie's voice cracked as she gently laid her pen on the desk.

Grace took a deep breath, holding back the tears that were welling up inside her. She missed her friend too. As each disastrous enchantment failed, it felt like they were getting further and further away from Una, and closer and closer to the evil of the power they'd unleashed. She thought of their first spell and tried to imagine what Tracy Murphy's last moments would feel like. Would she see it coming? Would it hurt? Grace tried to remember if the Beast had any brothers or sisters. Probably not. They'd undoubtedly have equally fierce reputations around school if they did exist. But there
was
a Mrs. Murphy, mother of the Beast, unpleasant though she was. And probably a Mr. Murphy too. Someone was going to miss her.

“Do you think she's still in there?” Adie said softly.

“Huh?”

“Our Una. Is she just jammed down inside herself, underneath that demon? Do you think she knows what's going on? Do you think she's scared?”

Grace shook her head.

“I don't know.”

“I hope she's just asleep or something.” Adie traced an old scar on the school desk with her finger. “I hope she's not awake in the dark, all alone.”

Grace tried to imagine what being trapped inside herself would feel like. She hoped the real Una was asleep too.

“Are you three waiting for a special invitation before you join this class?”

Ms. Lemon's sharp tone snapped Grace out of her dark thoughts, but not Adie.

“Sorry, Miss,” Grace said quietly, knuckling down to work.

“Adie?” Ms. Lemon said, raising one eyebrow.

Adie was too deep in thought to hear. Jenny nudged her gently.

“
What?
” Adie barked.

“I
said
,” replied Ms. Lemon, her voice rising angrily as she walked toward Adie's desk, “are you waiting for a special invitation? Or would you like to sit outside the room for the duration of the class?”

“Sorry,” Adie huffed, reaching to pick up her pen but accidentally flicking it under the table in front.

“
Excusez-moi?
” Ms. Lemon's cheeks flushed with anger.

“
J'ai dit que je suis désolée!
” Adie starting sobbing, as though dropping her pen was the last straw on such a horrible day. “
Je
n'ai pas de l'intention d'être difficile, mais je suis si fatiguée
.
Je
veux
être chez moi!
”

The whole class put down their pens and turned to look at her in amazement.

“What did you say?” the teacher asked quietly.

“
Comment?
” Adie asked, looking up with a tearstained face. “
J'ai dit que je suis fatiguée
.
J'ai besoin d'un bain, mais je dois rester à l'école
.
Monsieur
Collins
est
fâché et ce n'est pas notre faute, et—
Ah!”

She stopped suddenly and glared at Jenny, who had given her a swift kick under the table. Her friend stared at her, wide-eyed, trying to silently communicate the problem.

“Oh,” Adie said quietly, after a few moments. She said nothing more, but took Grace's pen and started jotting down the irregular verbs, hoping that the teacher would just move on. She didn't. Ms. Lemon stared at her, then gave the other two a strange look.

“You three are to stay behind after class,” she said finally. “I want to talk to you.”

“Nice going,” muttered Grace, as Ms. Lemon walked back to the front of the class.

“I was just saying I was tired,” Adie pleaded, “
et
Monsieur
Collins
est
fâché et—
”

“
Je
t'ai compris!
” Grace hissed, snatching back her pen. “But knock it off! She's looking at us weird now. So is the whole class.”

“Sorry. I didn't know I was doing it.”

“
Ça c'est le troisième—
” Jenny blinked hard and shook her head. “I mean, that's spell number three: we all become fluent in French. We're down to number three!”

“One more spell,” Adie said, the tears falling afresh. “One more, and after that—splat!”

“
Oui
,” moaned Grace, and laid her head down on the desk.

When the class was over, Grace, Adie, and Jenny stood to attention in front of Ms. Lemon's desk.

“You've pulled something out of the well, haven't you?” said Ms. Lemon.

Grace's mouth fell open.

“What?” she croaked.

“Look”—Ms. Lemon shook her head and folded her arms—“if you're dealing with a demon, you don't have time to be coy. Have you pulled something out of the well or haven't you?”

“We have,” Jenny replied.

“By accident,” Grace leaped in. “We didn't mean to. We were…we were trying out Rachel's new Ouija board and—”

“I knew there was something fishy going on.” The teacher leaned back against her desk, sighing as if disappointed with herself. “As soon as I saw that snowstorm, I knew. I should have been more vigilant.”

“You know about the well,” Adie asked, “and the demons?”

“I do,” Ms. Lemon replied, looking stern. “And
you
know how to make a state-altering potion, judging by the smelly mess I saw in the P Block today. And if you know how to do that, how could you be so irresponsible as to plunk a Ouija board over a demon well?”

“We didn't,” replied Grace. “I mean, we don't. We didn't know there was a demon well there. We didn't know what a demon well
was
. And we don't know how to a make a…
thingy
potion. We don't know anything about that stuff.”