Ripple Effect (4 page)

IT WAS OFFICIAL
. The cross-country team had had its wettest but most successful season in the school’s history. In last Friday’s city championship, Dana had placed third in the race for grade-six girls. Neta was seventh.

“Dana, that was amazing!” gushed a soggy Miss Marchand when all the girls had crossed the finish line. “And Neta, you came out of nowhere. I didn’t even know you could run like that! Amber, Gina, well done!”

Mrs. Murphy had planned to come out to the race with Janelle, but it was too wet. She’d left a message saying she was sorry, but she was afraid Janelle might slip with her crutches and hurt
herself again.
Go Eagles!
she had shouted into the phone.

The team had come in fourth place overall! Each member received a beautiful, gleaming yellow ribbon. Even Amber had to smile. Miss Marchand had told the girls she was going to wear her coach’s jersey to school Monday morning and encouraged them to wear their ribbons.
Let’s celebrate!
she’d said. Remembering what had happened last time, Dana left her ribbon at home. Biking in, however, she did share her big news with the little dog. Almost every day since she’d first seen him, Dana had stopped to look for him, and often she found him hiding under the same bush. “Hey, Buddy,” she called out to him this morning. “We did it! We won fourth at the cross-country championship.” He wagged his tail in response.

At lunch, Beverley Tran met Dana at her locker and asked to interview her about the race. Beverley was an eighth-grader and in charge of the school newspaper. She had the most beautiful shiny black hair, which swung over her shoulder as she pulled out her notebook. Dana tried to flatten her own
wild hair while Beverley uncapped her pen. “So Diana,” said Beverley, “tell me about the season and your recent success.”

“Well,” Dana began, “it’s Dana, actually, and—”

“Cross-country, right?”

“Yes.”

“You were on the grade-six team?”

“Yes, and—”

“Girls, right?”

“Well, yeah—”

“Just checking the facts. A fourth-place finish, I understand.”

“Yes, it’s the best the school’s ever—”

“And what about you? You finished…?”

“Well, I—”

Julia picked that very moment to jump in. Dana hadn’t even known she’d come up beside her. “Beverley,” she said, “that kind of article is so cliché. Humdrum. Who cares? They ran, they got sweaty, end of story. Make an announcement, of course, put a picture in the paper, but if you want a real human-interest piece, why don’t you come and talk to Janelle Murphy about her accident and
brave recovery? It’s inspirational. Don’t you think so, Dana?”

“Sure I do, but—”

Julia pulled Beverley into the classroom and over to Janelle’s desk. Beverley eyed the cast and cocked her head. “What happened?”

“An accident,” answered Julia. “She was in the hospital for weeks. It was a life-and-death situation.”

Beverley tapped her notebook. She looked from Janelle to Dana and back again. “Okay. What do you say? Will you do an interview with me?”

Janelle looked unsure. “Well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t know what to say.”

Julia jumped in again. “I’ll help,” she said.

The bell rang. “I’ll be back tomorrow at lunch,” Beverley said to Janelle and Julia. “Oh, and Diana,” she called over her shoulder on her way out, “get your team together then too. We’ll get a picture.”

MID-OCTOBER, AND
it hadn’t rained for an entire week. Everything seemed better when the sun was shining. Dana stuck her tongue out at the blue poncho hanging on its hook in the hallway and went to get her bike out of the garage. The sun was warm on her shoulders. The leaves on the trees flashed red, yellow and orange.

Dana tried to hang on to her happy feeling, but she found herself pedaling more and more slowly. It was becoming harder and harder for her to go to school. Janelle and Julia were always together now, and Dana noticed that more of the girls were going to the library at lunch. She didn’t know what they
were doing, and she was afraid of Julia’s reaction if she asked.

Dana kept an eye out for Jason, especially when she reached the spot where he’d helped her with her bike chain. But there was no Jason in sight. At least she still had one friend she could count on. She coasted along the curb and looked for the little dog. Maybe she could coax him out this time. She didn’t see him at first. Then, without warning, he shot out from under the bush, barking furiously.

“Whoa, Buddy, what’s up?”

He growled and showed his sharp little teeth.

“Okay, okay.” Dana thought he might bite and immediately took off again on her bike. When she looked back, the dog had disappeared from the sidewalk. What had she done to deserve that?

When she got to the school, she saw Jason’s bike was already in the rack. The boys were out playing in the field. Janelle’s parents’ car pulled up to the sidewalk. Before Dana could even take a step toward it, Julia ran up from the opposite direction
and opened the door. She grabbed Janelle’s backpack, and the two of them walked into the school. Dana rolled her eyes. Janelle had gotten her cast off last week. Couldn’t she open the car door herself now and carry her own stuff? Dana bit her lip.
That was mean.
She busied herself with her bike lock until the bell rang and she could go inside.

Mr. Bartholomew assigned a whole page of math problems first thing. Dana had a hard time concentrating. Then he gave them half an hour for silent reading. Dana spent most of it staring at the same three words. “Okay, class,” Mr. B. said at last, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “What do you say we shift gears now? Today we start a unit on poetry.”

His announcement was met with groans. Mr. B. laughed. “Come on now. Give it a chance. You just might like it! We’ll read some poems by different authors over the next few days, but I want to begin by having you write your own poem. Poetry is a great way to express your feelings. Don’t search too hard for a topic, and don’t worry too much about technique. Just write about
what’s on your mind. Write from the heart. I’ll give you five minutes.”

Dana tried to clear her head. She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders to loosen them up. She tried to think of poetry-like things—waves, clouds, sunshine—but nothing came to her.
Write what’s on your mind
, Mr. B. had said. She did have a lot on her mind. Anger and confusion churned around inside her like an overloaded washing machine. She felt like she might burst. She was too hurt to write about Janelle, too angry to write about Julia and too embarrassed to write about Jason. But she had to write something. The minutes ticked away. She started to breathe more quickly, and her hands got sweaty.

“Two more minutes,” said Mr. B.

Don’t search too hard for a topic
, he had said. Suddenly Dana had an idea. She wrote quickly, but her pen could barely keep up to her thoughts. She had just finished when Mr. B. said time was up, and she didn’t have a chance to read it over.

“Okay, everyone,” said Mr. B. “It’s almost recess. We have just enough time to have three of you read
your poems to the class. Let’s have Tyler, Charlotte and…Dana, how about you?”

Read it? In front of everyone?

Tyler’s finished product was a four-line poem about baseball that made everyone, especially Trey and Greg, cheer loudly. Charlotte had written a lovely free-verse poem about a sunny day at the lake. The whole class clapped when she finished reading it.

“Very nice,” said Mr. B. “Dana? Your turn.”

Dana looked down at her page and then up at her teacher.

“Is it from the heart?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Then let us have it,” encouraged Mr. B.

Dana stood up. She took a deep breath. “Dogs,” she began. She looked around at her classmates. They were all watching her, waiting to hear what she had to say. She cleared her throat and began again.

DOGS

Dogs, dogs, dogs, dogs,

they hide under bushes, they hide behind logs.

Their teeth are sharp, they’re full of drool,

they chase you on your way to school.

They’re small and quiet and have long hair,

they listen and you think they care.

They look so cute with their round little eyes,

they look like pals, but it’s all lies.

We were friends, or so I thought.

Shows the kind of friend I’ve got.

There was total silence for a few seconds as everyone puzzled over the poem. Dana glanced over at Janelle, who had a strange look on her face. Then the bell rang for recess, and the students bolted.

“Kickball!” yelled Trey. “Jay, bring the ball!”

“Well,” said Mr. B. He looked at Dana, still standing beside her desk with her paper in her hand. “That was different, Dana. Lots of, umm, emotion. Is everything okay?”

“I think so.”
I hope so.

Dana quickly made her way to the back of the room where the girls had gathered, pulling on jackets and snacking on celery, crackers and chocolate-chip cookies. If she could just get Janelle alone for
one minute, she could explain everything. She could still fix this.

“Our dog would never bite anyone,” Avery was saying.

“No way,” added Allie, shaking her head.

“My grandma has the cutest little dog,” said Gina. “I just melt when he looks at me with those little puppy eyes.”

“Does Dana even have a dog?” asked Julia.

“I don’t think so,” answered Janelle.

She didn’t think so? Janelle knew Dana didn’t have any pets. Did she think Dana wouldn’t have told her if they’d gotten a dog? And why were they talking about her as if she wasn’t even there?

Before Dana could tell them about Buddy and explain what had happened earlier that morning, the girls had already started talking about something else. And there was no way Dana was going to be able to talk to Janelle by herself without it being awkward.

Dana slipped down the hall toward the bathrooms.
Dana, Dana, would things ever be normal again-a?
She saw a group of girls from grades seven
and eight pointing at something on the bulletin board and stopped to see what was so exciting. She peered over heads and shoulders, and when she read the posting her heart leaped. This was her ticket back to the way things were supposed to be. She knew it.

“I put my name on the list,” said Dana, bounding back into the classroom. She was so excited, she couldn’t stand still. “Is anyone else going to? Did you, Amber? McKayla? Nelly, come on—the list is up. Put your name on it!”

“What list?” Janelle asked. “What are you talking about?”

“The volleyball sign-up list. We talked about this all through grade five, how we could finally play on the volleyball team this year, and now the list is up! It’s in the hallway. There are tryouts next week. Come on!”

Janelle’s smile faded. “Dana, I can’t…”

“What do you mean? You love volleyball. Your cast is off. We’ve—” Dana stopped. The cast had only been off for four days. She sucked in her breath. “You don’t think that by next week…”
She faltered. “No, I’m sorry, Nelly. I just got too excited. I didn’t think it through. Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’ll take my name off.”

Janelle shook her head. “Don’t be silly,” she said softly. “You can still play.”

“But we were going to do it together.”

“I know.” Janelle sighed. “But you can still play. You should play.”

Dana watched as Janelle turned to put her lunch bag away. She walked slowly and still had a definite limp.
Why had she brought up volleyball in the first place? What was wrong with her?
“Janelle…” she called after her.

Julia moved in beside her. “You know, Dana, I don’t think a real friend would have put her name on that list in the first place.”

“But we were planning to sign up since last year. You don’t understand.”

“I don’t think you understand. Things have changed, Dana. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see how sad you’ve made her?”

Can’t you see how sad this makes me?
“Nelly said—”

“That’s another thing I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Why do you keep calling her Nelly? Her name is Janelle.”

Dana felt a hard lump form in her throat. “
FYI
, Julia, I’ve been calling her Nelly since we were in kindergarten.”

Julia crossed her arms. “
FYI
, Dana, we’re not in kindergarten anymore. Besides, Janelle’s been through a life-threatening, life-changing experience. I don’t think we should be calling her baby names anymore.”

“Well,” Dana said, trying to keep her voice even as she watched Janelle make her way back toward them, “why don’t we let Janelle decide?”

“Okay. Why don’t we?” Julia smiled broadly. “Janelle, Dana and I were just talking about those silly names people used to call us when we were in, like, kindergarten? Remember?”

Janelle smiled. She seemed glad for the shift in conversation. “Ugh,” she said. “Don’t remind me. So embarrassing.”

“Don’t you think it’s time they disappeared for good?”

“Oh,” said Janelle, “I thought they
had
disappeared.” She shivered. “I just hated that!” She rolled her eyes.

Julia looked at Dana. She didn’t say a word, but the look on her face said,
I told you so
.

“Hey,” said Janelle, “it’s my turn to feed the fish. Anyone want to help me?

Julia smiled. “Sure.”

Dana didn’t move. Janelle had been through a life-changing experience. Apparently, that meant friend-changing too. Dana didn’t go over to the fish tank. She didn’t go back out to the hallway either. She decided she was going to keep her name on the list for tryouts next week. Practices would give her something new to do at recess.

Dana scanned the list again just before she left the school that afternoon to make sure her name was still there. It was. Hers was the only grade-six name on it.