Catching Fireflies

Misty glanced up at her, her expression filled with such misery that it nearly broke Laura’s heart.

“I’ve finished the test. Could I please leave now?” Misty begged.

Though she wanted to insist that she stay right here until the class ended in another ten minutes, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“I’ll give you a pass for the library,” she said quietly.

Misty gave her a grateful look, followed her to the front of the room, then all but ran out the door, leaving Laura to wonder what on earth she was supposed to do to fix this, whatever this was.

When the bell rang, she glanced at the students who’d been whispering earlier and picked one at random. “Trish, could I see you for a minute? The rest of you are dismissed. Leave your papers on my desk.”

Trish Peterson shifted nervously from foot to foot while her classmates left. Only after the last of them had gone, did Laura meet her gaze.

“I need to go,” Trish said. “I have P.E. next period and Miss Wilcox gets really mad if we’re late.”

“I’ll write an excuse for you,” Laura said. “Have a seat.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Trish asked. “I wasn’t cheating, Ms. Reed. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know,” Laura assured her. “But at the beginning of class, when Misty came in, there seemed to be a bit of a stir. I was hoping you could fill me in on what that was about.”

Trish’s eyes widened with alarm. “I don’t know what you mean,” she insisted, though it was obvious to Laura that she was lying. She’d been as chatty as her friends.

“You said something to Annabelle,” Laura reminded her. “A couple of the boys made comments, as well. Do you all have a problem of some kind with Misty?”

“Not me,” Trish said at once.

“Then who does?”

“No one, I swear it,” she said, her gaze darting around.

“I hope that’s the case,” Laura told her emphatically, hoping to get her point across that whatever they were up to wasn’t going to be tolerated. “Because I’d hate to find out you’re not being truthful.”

“Look, it’s got nothing to do with me, okay?” Trish insisted, her expression pleading. “Could I have that note now? I have to go. I’m the captain of one of the volleyball teams. I really need to be there.”

Though she wanted to pursue the subject some more, Laura reluctantly jotted out a note to Pam Wilcox, then waved Trish off. Though the girl had given away nothing, Laura was more convinced than ever that someone in her class was deliberately tormenting Misty and that others were going along with it. She just needed to figure out who, and how bad it had gotten.

* * *

Misty sat in the library with her head down on her books trying to keep herself from crying. No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about the rude comments the other kids had made as she’d hurried to her seat in Ms. Reed’s class. Worse, she knew Ms. Reed had heard them, maybe not the words, but the whispering. What if she started asking a lot of questions? She was already determined to figure out what was going on. If she’d called Annabelle or any of the others on the carpet after class, Misty was probably doomed.

When the bell rang, she was tempted to stay right here. Mrs. Martin, the librarian, wouldn’t care if she stayed. She could just show her the pass again and explain she was doing an extra credit project for English.

She was still debating whether or not to risk it, when a shadow fell across the table. She looked up to find Annabelle scowling down at her.

“You need to watch it, slut,” Annabelle said.

She spoke in a sneering way that made Misty wonder how half the town could think Annabelle was some sweet little Southern belle. Of course, most people had never seen this mean side of her.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Annabelle prodded when Misty remained determinedly silent. “You are such a loser.”

Enough, Misty thought, squaring her shoulders. “If I’m such a loser, why are you so obsessed with me?” she retorted, feeling a certain amount of pride in having finally spoken up to her tormentor.

“Obsessed? Are you kidding me? You’re just an annoyance.”

“Is that because your boyfriend wants to go out with me?” Misty asked, knowing she was pushing her luck but suddenly beyond caring.

Color rose in Annabelle’s cheeks. Her eyes glittered with fury. “You stay away from Greg, you hear me?”

“I’m not the one making the passes,” Misty reminded her. “If you’ve got a problem keeping him in line, tell him. Leave me out of it.”

Annabelle stared at her with momentary shock, then looked for all the world as if she was about to start tearing Misty’s hair out. She’d just reached toward her, when Mrs. Martin appeared.

“Girls, you need to keep your voices down,” she said, then frowned at Annabelle. “Do you have a pass to be in here?”

Annabelle flushed guiltily. “No, ma’am.”

“Then I suggest you get to whatever class you’re due to attend before they count you as tardy.”

“What about her?” Annabelle asked.

Misty held up her pass. “All nice and legal,” she said with a sense of triumph.

Mrs. Martin smiled at Misty, then waved off Annabelle. “Run along.”

Only after Annabelle had gone did Mrs. Martin turn back to Misty. “I know perfectly well that pass was for last period, young lady, but it was obvious to me the two of you were having some kind of spat. Knowing how Annabelle can be, I assume she started it.”

Misty stared at her wide-eyed. “You’re blaming Annabelle?”

Mrs. Martin regarded her with a steady gaze. “Am I wrong?”

For the first time in weeks, Misty felt a tiny shred of hope. Still, confirming Mrs. Martin’s guess could lead to the kind of showdown she’d been hoping to avoid. Better just to be grateful for the support and keep silent.

“It was no big deal, Mrs. Martin. Really.”

The librarian didn’t look convinced. “I’m not sure I believe that, but I’ll let it pass. Just promise me that if there is more to it, you’ll speak to me or one of your teachers and get it straightened out. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Misty said. “Do I have to go to my next class?”

“Just this once I’ll pretend that pass really is for an extra credit English project, just the way you told me when you came in.” She gave her a stern look. “Just don’t make a habit of this kind of thing, okay?”

“No way,” Misty promised readily. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Martin smiled at her. “I wish more of the students loved spending time in here the way you do and showed the same respect for the books. You’re going to make something of yourself one day, Misty. Don’t let anyone steer you off the path you’re on to do that.”

She walked away and left Misty in tears for the second time in the past hour, but these tears didn’t feel nearly the same. They felt good.

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