The Drake Journal

PROLOGUE

WEE OOH, WEE OOH, BEEP, HONK.

Traffic flooded the city of Toronto, but it was no ordinary day. The white ambulance flashed onto John Street, red and blue sirens blaring on the police cars in close pursuit. The first thing I noticed as my mother, Elisa Rose, brought our van to a halt at the corner near his apartment was a body strewn across the sidewalk. Mom slammed the car door and motioned for me to follow her outside.

I saw Drake, my best friend in the whole world; face down on the pavement, arms splayed at his side. He looked so lonely, and he was the only one making a snow angel in the street today.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?" I demanded to the policeman marking off the area for inspection with yellow tape that read 'Caution'. Nothing, especially not that tape, could have prepared me for this.

"Seems this boy fell a long way down," the policeman smirked.

I walked over to Drake's side and rolled him over. His face was bloody and unrecognizable. His brown eyes were open, though, and I spoke to him through them.

"Who did this to you? Who pushed you off the building?" I cried, sobbing violently into his chest. "Take Drake to the hospital," I pleaded to the officer, yanking on his arm in desperation.

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do, honey," he said, leading me back to the van. This entire catastrophe seemed to be a dream, but it wasn't. That's because when I woke up, Drake still wasn't there.

***

I smiled pleasantly as I scanned over my schedule for the eighth time.

"Hey," Drake said automatically, pulling out his schedule as well, "I have Trigonometry with McGree first hour, then Chemistry with Coffer, and British Lit last hour."

"I have Chemistry with Coffer, too, but my last class is Astronomy."

He moaned, "Are you telling me I have to spend one class without you?"

I giggled as we walked up the concrete steps to the Appleby Boarding School, which was located in our hometown of Toronto, Canada.

"This is pathetic," Drake noted while we shuffled through the flood of people to the math wing on the first floor. "Room No. 3044, here we go," he said, holding open the door for me.

I would have said thanks, but I was used to it by now. Drake was overly polite to me, but not to anyone else. I assumed it was because we had been friends for nine years now.

Mr. McGree was an unpleasant man. His personality was alright, but he looked like a walrus in a suit. His beady eyes scanned the corridor after classes, scrutinizing each and every one of us. He wore a brown plaid suit that contrasted horribly with his yellowed skin. McGree's spectacles were always perched upon his head, which was the shape of a hardboiled egg.

"Take a look at those eyebrows," Drake chuckled, raising his own eyebrows for emphasis.

I laughed so hard my chest began to cramp, and I fell out of the desk, clutching my side.

Drake placed his hand on my shoulder. "You alright?"

Mr. McGree seemed not to notice as he gave a lecture about triangles and proportions, but surely everyone else in class did. Many of the students were cupping their hands over their mouths while others were crying tears of laughter.

I grabbed Drake's hand, and as he pulled me up, I said, "Yeah, I'm okay, but did you notice how the walrus' pants look like they might rip?"