Related
Related Chapter 1
Life can be so boring sometimes.
I'm serious. There are no magical letters that flood your house and tell you that you are invited to a school of witchcraft and wizardry. There are no giant Cyclopses that you have to fight. There aren't even any fairy godmothers who change you into princesses. Nothing ever happens at Cottage Valley. We just go to school, come back, and eat food in between. And there's occasionally a snow day, which gives me nothing to do at all.
Well, ok, there is one thing.
I found out that a new mass criminal named Ima came out. Ima isn't her real name... she just calls herself that so that her true identity can be hidden. They say the wherever she has been, she writes "Ima" with whatever she could find. So, the police nicknamed her Ima. No one saw her face clearly. All the pictures were blurry and unclear. Nobody heard her speak, because she thought her crimes never needed speaking. Nobody ever knew who she was.
Nobody except me.
* * * *
Lugging my toat bag around the school, I wondered what they would teach in English class today. It may seem weird, but the lesson that Ms. Murphy is teaching this week is quite interesting. We're learning about the art of journalism and newspaper articles and now that Ima is around, all the newspapers are filled of her crimes. I"ve always wanted to be a detective, even though they usually end up dead. This is like a first step for me.
I pushed open the creaky old door and I was surprised to see that I was the first one to class. I must have been more excited than I thought!
"Ah, yes, Ms. Dakota Winfrey. Have a seat," said Ms. Murphy, trying not to act surprised.
I silently sat down in a chair and flipped through our Shakespeare novel, A Midsummer Night's Dream. It actually wasn't that bad, even though I could hardly understand it.
Slowly, one by one, the class filled up with students. Once it was full, Ms. Murphy said, "Class, today we will continue our study on journalism. I will pass out newspapers and highlighters. You must analyze the articles and make notes, if you must. At the end, we will talk about the way these journalists write."
Most of the kids groaned or made annoying faces at the teacher, but I was excited. Finally, an excuse to read another article about Ima! My parents wouldn't let me read it because they thought it was "inappropriate" for me. As I was thinking about this, Ms. Murphy placed the newspaper on my desk. I picked it up and read the headline.
IMA VANISHES AGAIN
I expected this headline. I expected it a lot. Ima is very powerful, and there's no doubt she wouldn't get caught this fast. The police finally got to see her face, but she vanished before they could get a picture of her.
And by vanished I mean, like into thin air.
I read some more of the article. "IMA" was written in large bold letters on the wall with water. Thank goodness it wasn't blood... criminals do that sometimes.
An extremely blurry picture of Ima was shown. Her face was awfully faint, and she looked like she wasn't even there. But you could see her. Something nagged at the back of my head, as if I've forgotten something. The picture made me feel odd... I knew something was wrong with it, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I washed the thought away, remembering that I was still in school and that Ima was too far away from my life. I listened to some of the students discuss each article of theirs. It was strange how in every single English class, I was the only one who got an Ima article. The rest got others. This is where things really started to feel akward. Why was Ms. Murphy trying to bring my attention to Ima so much? I felt queezy. I shuffled around in my chair and suddenly I had a terrible headache. I raised my hand and said, "Ms. Murphy, I don't feel so good."
Ms. Murphy turned to look at me and nodded. She said, "Alright then, Dakota, you can go to the nurse."
I got up and my head immediately felt too heavy for my body. I slowly made my way to the door and I felt like I was going to faint. This is odd, I thought, pushing the door open. Why was I so scared? What was wrong with me? All I could hear were my own thoughts and my own thudding heartbeat as I started losing the feeling in my feet. My feet trembled and I suddenly fell to the ground in the hallway. People gasped as they saw me faint.
I'm serious. There are no magical letters that flood your house and tell you that you are invited to a school of witchcraft and wizardry. There are no giant Cyclopses that you have to fight. There aren't even any fairy godmothers who change you into princesses. Nothing ever happens at Cottage Valley. We just go to school, come back, and eat food in between. And there's occasionally a snow day, which gives me nothing to do at all.
Well, ok, there is one thing.
I found out that a new mass criminal named Ima came out. Ima isn't her real name... she just calls herself that so that her true identity can be hidden. They say the wherever she has been, she writes "Ima" with whatever she could find. So, the police nicknamed her Ima. No one saw her face clearly. All the pictures were blurry and unclear. Nobody heard her speak, because she thought her crimes never needed speaking. Nobody ever knew who she was.
Nobody except me.
* * * *
Lugging my toat bag around the school, I wondered what they would teach in English class today. It may seem weird, but the lesson that Ms. Murphy is teaching this week is quite interesting. We're learning about the art of journalism and newspaper articles and now that Ima is around, all the newspapers are filled of her crimes. I"ve always wanted to be a detective, even though they usually end up dead. This is like a first step for me.
I pushed open the creaky old door and I was surprised to see that I was the first one to class. I must have been more excited than I thought!
"Ah, yes, Ms. Dakota Winfrey. Have a seat," said Ms. Murphy, trying not to act surprised.
I silently sat down in a chair and flipped through our Shakespeare novel, A Midsummer Night's Dream. It actually wasn't that bad, even though I could hardly understand it.
Slowly, one by one, the class filled up with students. Once it was full, Ms. Murphy said, "Class, today we will continue our study on journalism. I will pass out newspapers and highlighters. You must analyze the articles and make notes, if you must. At the end, we will talk about the way these journalists write."
Most of the kids groaned or made annoying faces at the teacher, but I was excited. Finally, an excuse to read another article about Ima! My parents wouldn't let me read it because they thought it was "inappropriate" for me. As I was thinking about this, Ms. Murphy placed the newspaper on my desk. I picked it up and read the headline.
IMA VANISHES AGAIN
I expected this headline. I expected it a lot. Ima is very powerful, and there's no doubt she wouldn't get caught this fast. The police finally got to see her face, but she vanished before they could get a picture of her.
And by vanished I mean, like into thin air.
I read some more of the article. "IMA" was written in large bold letters on the wall with water. Thank goodness it wasn't blood... criminals do that sometimes.
An extremely blurry picture of Ima was shown. Her face was awfully faint, and she looked like she wasn't even there. But you could see her. Something nagged at the back of my head, as if I've forgotten something. The picture made me feel odd... I knew something was wrong with it, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I washed the thought away, remembering that I was still in school and that Ima was too far away from my life. I listened to some of the students discuss each article of theirs. It was strange how in every single English class, I was the only one who got an Ima article. The rest got others. This is where things really started to feel akward. Why was Ms. Murphy trying to bring my attention to Ima so much? I felt queezy. I shuffled around in my chair and suddenly I had a terrible headache. I raised my hand and said, "Ms. Murphy, I don't feel so good."
Ms. Murphy turned to look at me and nodded. She said, "Alright then, Dakota, you can go to the nurse."
I got up and my head immediately felt too heavy for my body. I slowly made my way to the door and I felt like I was going to faint. This is odd, I thought, pushing the door open. Why was I so scared? What was wrong with me? All I could hear were my own thoughts and my own thudding heartbeat as I started losing the feeling in my feet. My feet trembled and I suddenly fell to the ground in the hallway. People gasped as they saw me faint.