SECOND EARTH

“How can he end a journal here?” shouted Courtney in dismay. “That’s not fair. He can’t leave us hanging like that!”

Courtney looked to Mark, expecting him to be just as outraged as she was. But Mark had other things on his mind. He had finished reading the journal several minutes before Courtney and was now busily leafing back through the pages of Bobby’s Journal #5 and rummaging in his backpack. The frown on his face said that something was bothering him.

“He’s messing with us,” added Courtney. “He knows we pore over every word of his journals and he gave us a cliffhanger. That’s just . . . wrong. This isn’t a game. Why did he . . . What are you doing?”

Mark kept reading through the earlier pages, looking for something. Courtney was suddenly intrigued.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” she asked. “Did you figure out who caused the habitats to crash? Was it Saint Dane?”

Mark didn’t answer. The scowl of tension didn’t leave his face either.

“Mark!” Courtney shouted with frustration.

This rocked Mark back into the room. His look of worry was replaced by the look of a small boy who just got caught doing something wrong.

“I-I’m an idiot. A total idiot, th-that’s all I can say.”

He was on the verge of tears. He held up the pages of Bobby’s latest journal. “It’s missing. The first page is missing.”

Courtney jumped to her feet and grabbed the light green pages from him. She shuffled through them quickly, looking for the missing page.

“That’s impossible. We read it together, in the bathroom at school. It’s got to be here.”

She flipped through the pages once, twice, a third time and then looked to Mark and shouted, “It’s not here!”

“I know!” cried Mark.

“Don’t panic. When was the last time we saw it for sure?”

“In the boys’ room,” whined Mark. “We were reading when Mr. Dorrico burst in yelling and I jammed all the pages in my pack and—”

Courtney dove at Mark’s pack and frantically dug through it.

“Don’t you think I already looked there?” said Mark with frustration. “Like five times already?”

Courtney threw the pack down and clicked into a different gear. She knew that being all frantic and pointing fingers of blame wouldn’t help get the page back. They had to think clearly.

“We had it in the bathroom,” she began, thinking out loud. “That’s for definite. But we came right here. That means we lost it somewhere between the bathroom and here. It’s gotta be here!”

Courtney started tossing the cushions on the sofa, desperate to find the lost page. Mark didn’t help. His mind was already jumping ahead.

“There’s another possibility,” said Mark softly. “M-maybe it never left the bathroom.”

“What?”

“I-I mean, everything happened fast with Mr. Dorrico and all. Maybe I didn’t grab all the pages.”

Courtney stared at Mark. For a moment Mark was afraid she would lunge at him and tear out his adenoids. But she didn’t. Instead she glanced at her watch.

“School’s closed,” she said, all business. “If Mr. Dorrico found that page, he probably tossed it in the trash. That means it’s either still in that trash can, or outside in the Dumpster.”

The two stared at each other for a solid thirty seconds. Neither wanted to admit what the next step might be. Mark broke first.

“We’re going through that Dumpster tonight, aren’t we?” he said, sounding sick.

“Do you want someone to find that page and start asking questions? Like the police?”

That was a no-brainer. There would be way too many questions to answer if Captain Hirsch of the Stony Brook Police saw that page. Mark and Courtney hadn’t been entirely honest with him about their knowledge of Bobby’s disappearance, so if someone else found that page, they would look really bad.

“I’ll meet you there after dinner,” said Mark. “Bring rubber gloves. This is gonna be gross.”

And it was gross.

Mark and Courtney met as planned, right after dinner. Both used the excuse that they were going to the library on the Ave. Instead they spent a solid two hours digging through the Dumpsters of Stony Brook Junior High. Neither could have imagined that one school could create so much disgusting ick in one day. Going through piles of discarded paper wasn’t so bad. Paper was dry. Where it got tough was when they had to search through the stuff that wasn’t dry. Their journey through garbageland couldn’t have happened at a worse time. On that very day, the cafeteria had served spaghetti creole, the furnace had been cleaned and overhauled, and Miss Britton’s biology class had the pleasure of dissecting frogs. That meant that the Dumpsters were loaded with sticky tomato sauce, greasy rags, and putrid frog guts.

It was not a happy two hours. Finally, after having wiped sloppy red sauce off yet another page for what seemed like the one zillionth time, Courtney had had enough.

“It’s not here,” she announced.

“It’s gotta be,” said Mark while wiping a smudge of grease from his chin. “Keep looking.”

Courtney hauled herself out of the Dumpster. She was done.

“Look,” she said. “If it’s in here and we can’t find it, then nobody else will either. It’ll just end up at the dump and nobody will ever see it again.”

“That’s just it!” cried Mark. “Bobby trusted me with his journals. I could never face him again if I lost even one page.”

He began digging again with even more energy. A tear grew in his eye. Not because the Dumpster smelled rank, which it did, but because he felt horrible for having let his best friend down. Courtney leaned into the Dumpster and put a hand on his shoulder. Mark stopped digging and looked at her.

“We’re not going to find it here,” she said softly, trying to calm Mark down. “The more I think about it the more I think it’s gotta still be in the garbage can in the boys’ bathroom.”

Mark felt a spark of hope.

“You think?”

“We were in there just before last period, right? I always see the janitors emptying the garbage cans early in the day. I think there’s a good chance Mr. Dorrico saw the page and stuck it in the can and it’s still sitting there, waiting to get emptied tomorrow.”

“I think you’re right,” he exclaimed, his spirits rising. “All I’ve got to do is get there first thing, before it gets emptied.”

Mark felt much better. There was still hope, and a plan. Both were cautiously optimistic that they’d find the stray page the next day. The only thing they had to worry about for now was getting home and dumping their clothes before their parents caught a whiff of them. They both really needed a shower. It would be tough to explain why they smelled like rotten tomatoes, grease, and formaldehyde.

The next morning Mark was waiting at the front door of school as the janitors arrived for the day. He usually got to school early because he liked to hang out in the library and get some work done before classes, so the janitors didn’t think it was odd that he was there. Mr. Dorrico was with the group. Mark knew that this was his chance to find out about the paper, but after what happened in the bathroom with Courtney the day before, he was totally embarrassed about approaching the man. Still, he didn’t have any choice.

“Excuse me, Mr. Dorrico?” called Mark.

Mr. Dorrico stopped and looked at him suspiciously. The kids at Stony Brook almost never spoke to the custodians. It wasn’t a law or anything, but the two groups didn’t have much in common. Until today, that is. Mr. Dorrico stared at Mark. Mark could tell that he was trying to remember where he had seen him recently. Unfortunately Mark was going to have to remind him.

“My name’s Mark Dimond,” he said tentatively. “R-Remember yesterday? I was in the third-floor bathroom with Courtney and we were reading and—”

“That’s how I know you!” exclaimed Mr. Dorrico.

At first he seemed happy for having solved the mystery of who this kid was, but his joy quickly turned sour as he remembered the scene from the day before.

“You kids think you’re funny, don’t you,” he scolded.

Mark didn’t feel like being lectured, but he figured it would be better to let Mr. Dorrico blow off steam. He might have a better chance of getting the information he needed if Mr. Dorrico felt like he had done a good job of telling him off. So Mark didn’t interrupt him. He stood there and took it.

“I’ve been working at this school for the better part of fifty years,” Dorrico went on. “There’s nothing I haven’t seen and nothing I haven’t cleaned up.”

Mark thought that was a particularly disgusting thought, but he let the guy ramble.

“So if you think you’re being clever or original by trying to make me look foolish, then you’ve got another think coming!”

“You are absolutely right, sir,” said Mark in the most respectful tone he could manage. “We both felt really bad about what happened. A girl should never be in the boys’ lavatory. To make light of that rule is an insult to everything this school stands for. We felt so bad about it, we decided the best thing to do would be to apologize to you.”

He ended his speech with a big, sincere smile. He was afraid he was laying it on a little thick, but he was on a roll and couldn’t stop. Mr. Dorrico was thrown. He wasn’t expecting a total apology.

“Uh, well,” he fumfered. “You’re right. Where’s the girl? Shouldn’t she apologize too?”

“She will,” answered Mark quickly. “As soon as she gets to school.”

“Okay then,” said Mr. Dorrico with finality. “I’m glad we agree.” He started to walk off, satisfied with the knowledge that he had been shown the respect he deserved. But Mark couldn’t let him go. He ran quickly in front of him.

“Uhh, there’s one thing though,” he said tentatively. “When we were in there, we were doing homework. I know, bad place to do homework. But I’m afraid I might have left one of my papers behind. You didn’t see it, did you?”

Mr. Dorrico kept walking.

“I saw something,” he answered thoughtfully. “It was a green piece of paper with writing on it. Didn’t look like a normal piece of paper though. It was more like a piece of plant or something.”

“Yes! That’s it!” shouted Mark jubilantly. “Did you throw it in the trash?”

“I got a policy. Things get misplaced. If I find something that looks like schoolwork I’ll leave it where I found it for a day in case the kid comes back to fetch it. If it’s still there after a day then . . .”

Mr. Dorrico continued talking, but nobody was listening. Mark was already gone. As soon as he heard that the paper was left out in the open in the bathroom, he beat feet for the third floor.

Mark flew up the stairs, sprinted down the hall, skidded around the corner, and blasted through the swinging door that led into the lavatory. When he got inside he did a quick look around to discover there was no journal page to be seen. He dropped to his knees and looked on the floor. He checked all the stalls. He looked on the window ledges and under the sinks. No page. He then grabbed the wastebasket and turned it over. It was empty. Mark felt sick. Could one of the other custodians have thrown it away and then emptied the wastebasket last night? That wouldn’t be fair. Courtney said they didn’t empty them until the morning. But then where was Bobby’s page?

Mark sat down on the floor of the lavatory, totally beaten. His last hope was gone. He dropped his head into his knees and closed his eyes. He knew he had to clear his head and think. What would he tell Bobby? He had let his best friend down. Bobby was able to flume all over Halla and stop wars but he couldn’t even be trusted to hold on to a sheet of paper.

“‘Hi, guys. I gotta apologize for taking so long to write. So much has happened since I left you two, I’m not really sure where to begin.’”

Mark heard those words being read aloud. They were the first words from Bobby’s Journal #5—the first words on the missing page.

Mark raised his eyes from his arms. When he did, his heart sank even deeper than it had been a few moments before. Standing inside the door to the boys’ lavatory, holding the missing page, was Andy Mitchell. Mark stared up at the kid with greasy dark-blond hair and a bad case of acne . . . and wanted to retch.

If it was possible to have a true archenemy in junior high, then Andy Mitchell was Mark’s archenemy. Mitchell was the kind of guy who loved to pick on guys like Mark. The word “bully” always jumped into Mark’s mind, but he was a little old to be afraid of bullies. Still, Mitchell loved to harass Mark. He’d cheat off of him in class—when Mitchell decided to show up for class, that is. He’d make fun of Mark’s stutter for the amusement of his equally idiotic band of friends, and he never passed Mark in the hallway without giving him a quick punch in the arm. Mark always had to be looking over his shoulder for Mitchell because he never knew where the next bomb was coming from.

The only time Mark was completely safe was when he was with Bobby or Courtney. Mitchell never messed with those guys. Like all good bullies, he was also a coward. Of course, since Bobby left on his adventure, Mark found himself alone more often and at the mercy of the ever present Mitchell. Mark knew he was a classic creep whose power came from the fact that he wasn’t afraid to intimidate and belittle. But he was also the kind of guy who would find that power ebbing as his peers grew up and stopped taking him seriously. Unfortunately that time wouldn’t come for a while yet. For now, Mitchell was in charge.

Mitchell stood inside the lavatory door with Bobby’s journal page in one hand and a burning cigarette in the other.

“There’s two possibilities here, Dimond,” said Mitchell as he gave a quick, juicy snort. Mitchell always seemed to have a cold. It added to his hideous mystique. “Either this is some lame story you’re writing, or you know exactly what happened to Pendragon and you’re not telling anybody.”

Mark slowly stood up. His mind was in overdrive. What would he tell this guy to get him to give up the page and leave him alone? There weren’t a whole lot of options open.

“Y-You g-got me, Mitchell,” Mark said tentatively. “It’s a s-story. For English. Where did you get it?”

“I found it in here after school yesterday,” answered Mitchell. “What’s the deal? You miss your buddy Pendragon so bad you gotta make up stupid stories about him?”

“I-I know. It’s really s-stupid,” said Mark.

This was going pretty well. Mitchell was making up all the answers. Mark didn’t have to do anything. Now all he had to do was get Mitchell to give him the page.

“Thanks for finding it.”

He held his hand out for the page. This was the moment of truth. Was Mitchell going to give it back?

“What’ll you give me for it?” Mitchell asked.

“What do you want?”

Mitchell gave this some thought. This was tough for him. He usually didn’t think much.

“Forget it,” he answered. “Just take it. It’s no fun messing with you anymore. It’s too easy.”

Mark had to try to stop from smiling. This was amazing. He was going to get the page back, no harm, no foul. He didn’t want Mitchell to think he was too happy about it, so he just shrugged and held his hand out. However . . .

It was at that exact instant that his ring started to twitch. Mark felt the telltale movement, but it was such a surprise that he could only stand there, frozen. Then the gray stone started to turn clear and glow. Bobby’s next journal was about to show up, and it couldn’t be happening at a worse time.

Mark clamped his other hand over the ring to hide it. He made eye contact with Mitchell, hoping against hope that he hadn’t seen the ring move. But one look into Mitchell’s wide eyes told him the truth. Mitchell had seen it, all right. They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Finally . . .

“Gotta go!” Mark put his head down and headed for the door. But he had to go past Mitchell, and there was no way Mitchell was going to let him get past. He caught Mark and shoved him back into the bathroom.

“What’s going on?” shouted Mitchell, with a touch of fear.

“N-Nothing. I-I’m sick is all.”

Mark tried to get by again, but Mitchell wouldn’t let him pass.

“Show me that ring!” Mitchell demanded.

By this point the ring was starting to expand on Mark’s finger. He couldn’t keep his hand on it any longer. Though it killed him to do it, he had to take the ring off and lay it on the ground. As soon as it hit the floor, the dazzling flash from the stone lit up the dark bathroom with a sparkling spray of light.

Mitchell stood over the ring in wonder. He started to bend down to touch it.

“Don’t!” commanded Mark.

His voice was so forceful, Mitchell backed off. It was the only time Mitchell had ever done anything Mark wanted him to. Mark didn’t feel any victory though; his dominance would be short-lived.

The ring was now expanded to its full size and Mark saw the familiar black hole in its center. The two then heard some odd musical notes coming from deep within.

“Dimond?” yelled Mitchell nervously. “What is this?”

Mark didn’t answer. He knew it would be over soon. If he were lucky, Mitchell would run in terror.

But Mark wasn’t lucky.

Mitchell stayed. The light from the stone blasted out so brightly that both guys had to shield their eyes. The musical notes grew louder, and then a second later, it was over. The lights stopped flashing. The ring was back to its normal size. Sitting next to it on the floor was another roll of pages that Mark knew was Bobby’s next journal. It had arrived the exact same way all the others had, only this time it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

Mark bent down and picked up the roll and the ring. He put the ring back on his finger, and hoping to keep whatever power he had over Mitchell going, he held out his hand.

“Give me the page,” he said as forcefully as possible.

Mitchell was numb. He actually started to do what he was told. He held the lost page out for Mark. Mark reached for it, and just as he was about to grab it, Mitchell snatched it back. He was slowly getting his balance back.

“What just happened here?” he asked shakily.

“You wouldn’t understand,” said Mark, still trying to hold on to whatever leverage the bizarre episode had given him. “J-Just give me the p-page.” Mark was losing it.

“I ain’t giving you nothing!” declared Mitchell.

The power had shifted again. Mitchell was back in charge.

“I’m starting to think you didn’t write this. I’m starting to think Pendragon’s been writing about where he is, and he’s sending letters to you, special delivery.”

Mark didn’t know what to say. Mitchell had hit the nail right on the head. How was he going to explain this? Mitchell looked at the page again, then smiled a sly little smile. Mark’s heart sank.

“I’ll bet there are a lot of people who’d like to know about these,” he said.

“Andy, you can’t,” Mark pleaded. “This isn’t stupid kid stuff at school. There are things going on here you can’t even imagine. If you told anybody about it, you’d be starting something that I guarantee you’d regret.”

This seemed to hit home with Mitchell. Mark realized it might be his one chance to gain some real leverage over the bully.

“There are only three people who know about these pages,” Mark continued. “Me, Courtney Chetwynde . . . and now you.”

“Chetwynde knows?” shouted Mitchell in disappointment.

This was good for Mark. Mitchell was just as afraid of Courtney as Mark was of Mitchell. Mark was beginning to realize he had more tools to work with than he thought.

“Yes, Courtney knows everything,” continued Mark. “This is a serious thing. If you start telling people about it, then you might get in just as much trouble as we will. There’s a lot at stake here. You want to go public with it? Go ahead. But your life will never be the same.”

Mark felt as if he had laid that on pretty thick. He wasn’t at all sure whether Mitchell would get in trouble if he revealed the journals, but he counted on the fact that Mitchell was dumb enough to think he could get in trouble. Mark knew that was the one weapon guys like Mark had over guys like Mitchell. They were smarter.

“Don’t be an idiot, Mitchell,” said Mark. “Give me the page, forget you saw anything, and I promise never to tell anyone that you know.”

Mitchell stared at the ground, thinking about the offer. Mark knew that Mitchell was over his head. This was way too much for his brain to process.

“I’ll make you a deal, Dimond,” said Mitchell tentatively. “I’ll give you the page, and I’ll shut up about what I saw. But you gotta do something for me too.”

“I asked you before, what?”

“This isn’t before,” said Mitchell. “This is now. Before I didn’t see the hocus-pocus stuff. My offer is this: I’ll keep quiet as long as you let me read what Pendragon sends you.”

“What?”

This was probably the worst thing Mark could imagine. He didn’t want to share Bobby’s journals with anybody, let alone lame-wad Andy Mitchell. What was he going to say to Courtney? He didn’t know what to do.

“That’s my offer, Dimond,” said Mitchell, suddenly sounding more confident. “Either you start showing me those letters, or I start blabbing to everybody about what’s going on. I might get in a little trouble, but nothing like what you and Chetwynde will catch.”

Uh-oh. Mitchell was being smarter than Mark thought possible.

“Okay,” said Mark, though it killed him to do it. “But I can’t let you read it before me and Courtney. The letters are being sent to us, not you. After we read ’em, I’ll let you have a look. But the letters stay with me, and if you tell anybody and I mean anybody about what’s going on, I’ll make sure you get in every bit as much trouble as we do.”

Mitchell thought a second, then handed the lost page to Mark. Mark grabbed it like it was his most valuable possession in the world. And at that moment, it was.

“Deal,” he said. “When do I get to read what you got?”

Mark started for the door. He was feeling bold and lost at the same time. He no longer cared about Mitchell’s bully tactics. Their relationship had just been kicked into a higher gear. It was a dangerous gear that was way beyond petty bully stuff.

“I’ll let you know,” declared Mark, and opened the door.

“You better, Dimond,” threatened Mitchell. “We’re partners now.”

Mark stopped and looked back at the creepy Andy Mitchell. He was right. They were partners now, sort of. The thought made Mark’s stomach roll.

A short while later Mark met Courtney near the gym, just as they had arranged the night before. Courtney was all sorts of excited to know if Mark had found the missing page.

“Well?” she asked impatiently.

Mark’s mind raced. What was he going to tell her? He knew he was going to have to tell her the truth, but right now he felt as if he had failed her, and failed Bobby. It started when he left the page in the bathroom and continued when he didn’t have the guts to stand up to Andy Mitchell. He felt like such a loser. Yes, he was going to have to tell Courtney the truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it just then.

“I got the page,” he said. “And this.”

He pulled Bobby’s newest journal from his pack. Courtney’s eyes lit up.

“Double score! Excellent! See, I told you it was going to work out.”

“You were right,” said Mark with absolutely no enthusiasm.

Courtney didn’t sense this. She had enough enthusiasm going for the both of them.

“That’s weird,” said Courtney.

“What?” Mark shot back, hoping that she hadn’t sensed something had gone terribly wrong.

Courtney took the newest journal from Mark and looked at it.

“This isn’t like the last one,” she said with curiosity. “The last journal was written on that green, waterproof paper. This is . . . different.”

She was right. Mark had been so nervous about Andy Mitchell, he hadn’t even noticed it himself. This new journal was much more like Bobby’s first journals that he wrote on Denduron. The pages were brown and crusty looking like parchment.

“You’re right,” was all Mark could say.

“Okay, we gotta wait till after school to read,” she said, handing him back the pages. “Meet me out front after last period and we’ll get back to my basement. Okay?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

“Man, I hope I can wait that long. I’m dying! Don’t peek, all right?”

“No problem. I won’t peek,” said Mark, wondering how he was going to keep Andy Mitchell from peeking all day.

Mark and Courtney then separated and went about their normal school day. Mark did his best to immerse himself in schoolwork to get his mind off his dilemma. A few times while classes were passing, he caught sight of Andy Mitchell. Mitchell wouldn’t say a word. He’d just give Mark this exaggerated wink as if to say: “We’ve got a secret, right, pal?” Mark would just turn away and cringe.

After school Mark and Courtney met up just as planned. They barely said anything to each other as they walked to Courtney’s house. A dozen times Mark started to tell her about Andy Mitchell, but couldn’t find the right words. He saw how excited Courtney was about reading the new journal, and didn’t want to crash her mood.

When they got to the house, Mark decided that he wouldn’t say anything about Mitchell until after they read Bobby’s journal. In spite of all the extra stuff that was going on, Mark was excited to find out what happened to their friend. So without Courtney realizing that a momentous decision had been reached, the two sat down on the dusty couch to jump once again into the world that had become Bobby’s.

“I’m shaking,” said Courtney as she held the pages.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” countered Mark, though he was shaking for a whole bunch more reasons than Courtney.

Luckily for him, the time for talking was over. It was time to read.