Angela 2. David A. Bedford

is the chemical element. Coal is solid carbon that they get from mines. And charcoal is made from wood to use for cooking on the grill.”

      “Is complicated! But this place is very beautiful. I like.”

      “What’s your full name, Sonya?”

      “Is difficult.”

      “I’m sure I couldn’t say it right, but I’d love to hear it.”

      “Ok, then, is SOHnya SergeYEVna AleKSANdrava. My father’s name Sergei, so my patronymic Sergeyevna. And since I girl, my last name Aleksandrava, I mean is Aleksandrava, but you write ‘Aleksandrova’. My brother is Ivan Sergeyevich Aleksandroff. Different for boys. But immigration could not understand, so we all on documents Aleksandroff.”

      “Well, I thought it would be interesting, but wow!” countered Susan. “I’ll try to remember.”

      Sonya smiled and Angela offered to show her around. They had begun to bond during the first week of school by helping each other with dance steps. Sonya showed Angela how to do some new, more complicated moves and Angela filled Sonya in on the terms used in the US. As they started walking, they saw Benjie and his family coming toward them on foot and Fiona’s car pulling into the parking area. Fiona, Benjie, Sonya, and Angela helped unload folding chairs, two rather large coolers, packages of various meats to grill, and other cookout necessities. Then the teenagers headed toward the marshy area to watch the heron, ducks, gulls, and many other birds compete with the humans for fish. There seemed to be plenty for all.

      “Did you hear about the pipeline?” asked Fiona, as they walked slowly along the edge of the bay.

      “What pipeline?” Angela countered.

      “A consortium of oil companies has been formed to propose a pipeline from a number of offshore wells, through Oso Bay, and into a refinery that would be built south of town.”

      Angela frowned. “I thought the refineries were all supposed to be north of Corpus Christi Bay.”

      “In Corpus Christi, yes,” answered Fiona. “But Sargasso Beach hasn’t passed any restrictions like that. The companies are asking for a zoning change from protected area to industrial so they can build there.”

      “And the pipeline,” Angela persisted. “Will it go underground under there?” She indicated the bay.

      “I don’t know. All the ones I ever heard of rest on the bottom.”

      Angela was troubled. She loved the recreational area and feared that having a pipeline near would spoil the beauty and quiet.

      Sonya spoke up. “In Siberia they put pipeline to Moscow. It make heat and dommage… how you say?”

      “Damage?” offered Benjie.

      “Yes, damage permafrost with heat.”

      “Well, I doubt that would be a problem here,” said Benjie. His T-shirt was sticking to his back from the sweat.

      “It would be ugly, though,” Angela commented.

      “We need to research this some,” Fiona suggested. “So we can put in our two cents’ worth if they hold public hearings.”

      They agreed vaguely that it would be a good idea and headed back toward where the adults were grilling. The good food, the conversation and laughter, the games and the fishing drove thoughts of the pipeline from Angela’s mind and, it seemed, from everyone else’s too. When the party broke up later in the afternoon, Angela walked alone down to the ferry and crossed to the island. She walked over the dune and found a rock to sit on at the edge of the beach. The wind blew directly into her face, making the mass of curls tremble. Angela knew she was getting caked with salt and sand, but there would be plenty of time for a refreshing shower when she got home. To her right, several seagulls were hovering almost motionless in the air, planing against the sea breeze.

      Suddenly she heard a commotion on her other side, down near the water. Two sandpipers were disputing some bit of food. One had it in its beak and seemed to be teasing or daring the other to take it. The second sandpiper protested loudly, hopping, its beak wide open, in circles around the first, who merely kept pivoting in place, keeping the bit of food in plain view, but not giving it up nor eating it, either. Angela was amused and watched for a while. She breathed in the salty air happily and then got up and headed back across the dune to the landing. They would be waiting for her so they could go home.

      ***

      Life at school was pleasant the next week, free from the cattiness of Kitty and her cohort, with only routine abuse from Newsom. Even Logan showed signs of recognizing his charges as young humans, though as yet still rather undifferentiated. Dance was fun and Angela was enjoying herself. She, along with Fiona, Benjie, Sonya, Yves, and Michaela had amusing conversations at lunchtime, with Benjie imitating the teachers and Fiona providing the sarcastic color commentary. Only Sepúlveda, the Spanish teacher, remained as yet an unknown quantity.

      On Thursday morning, Angela walked in the front door as usual, heading for home room. As she was approaching the first hallway that opened on the right, the KittyKats came around the corner and filed past her. They acted as if she were not there but, as she watched them, Ashley turned her head toward Angela and looked at her briefly with just a hint of a smirk, and then looked forward again.

      Angela joined her friends in home room. After Coach called the roll, he chewed on his gum energetically and then said,

      “Furry-near, I have a note here that says you are to report to the principal’s office.”

      Chapter 4

      Benjie turned to Angela with his eyebrows raised and Fiona frowned, looking thoughtful. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Angela picked up her things and headed toward the door. Fiona patted her on the arm as she went by and Angela returned a small, worried smile.

      Feeling as though she had tuned in to the same bad movie for the fourth or fifth time, Angela entered the school office. The secretary told her that Ms. Petty was waiting for her and to go on in. She stepped timidly into the principal’s personal territory. Something was odd about the light. Behind the desk, Petty was in shadows. Angela looked up and saw that the light fixture was wrapped in something black. The lamp on the desk was draped over as well. Petty spoke:

      “What do you have to say for yourself, miss Angela Poltergeist?”

      “Excuse me?”

      “I guess you thought it was funny, but you are going to pay! Doesn’t look very funny now, does it?”

      Angela decided that the best approach was to be quiet, as anything she said would be pounced on and she had no idea what she was alleged to have done. The silence extended uncomfortably, but Angela looked the principal in the eyes and waited.

      “Well, answer me!” said Petty at last.

      Angela took a deep breath, let it out slowly and, making a monumental effort to control her feelings, said:

      “Ms. Petty, if you are accusing me of something, please tell me what it is.”

      “You know what you’ve done!”

      Angela felt like screaming in frustration. Instead, she waited.

      Petty exploded. “What is the meaning of all this?!” she exclaimed, indicating the lamp and the light fixture.

      “Ms. Petty, I really don’t know.”

      “You don’t know,” echoed the principal, oozing sarcasm. “These are your dance clothes!” She lifted up a pair of undies from where they had been laid on the telephone. They had blended into the shadows and Angela had not seen them.

      “My dance stuff is in my locker.”

      “Very well,” challenged the principal. “Let’s go look.”

      Angela followed the imperious Petty into the hallway. She would have