Squeak: The Asher Chronicles, #1

By D.A. Power

 

10-year-old Celeste Asher is as shy, quirky, and awkward as they come. After her mother remarries and moves her away from her friends, she finds herself alone and targeted by local bullies known as The Beastly Trio. If that isn't bad enough, her new stepfather is her fifth-grade teacher.

     One day, using courage she didn't know she had, Celeste rescues a mouse from being tortured by the same bullies who torment her. Her unexpected bravery is the spark that causes her fellow students to take a second look at the quiet new girl. Her awkwardness is multiplied by an unusual new friend and newly discovered ability- both of which she has no choice but to keep secret.

     This coming-of-age tale, set in 1984, is about a young girl who, with help from a special "little" friend, learns to stand up for herself, develop confidence, make friends, and bond with her stepfather.

     Squeak is the first installment of The Asher Chronicles.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.A. Power
• Release date: Oct 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215330401

D.A. Power

D.A. Power read her first sentence in a book independently at the age of four. Ever since, she became a lifelong book worm and lover of stories. She earned her Bachelor’s Degree in Piano Performance from Southwestern Oklahoma State University, and has been a professional pianist for over 30 years. This is her debut novel. Mrs. Power makes her home in Joplin, Missouri with her husband, Aaron and their three sons. If you’re interested in learning more, follow her on Twitter @D.A. Power, donnapower2022 on Instagram, and D.A. Power on Facebook.

Book preview

DEDICATION

To my departed bonus Dad and my sweet Grandma Faye,

I did it!  I miss you both and wish you were here to read this

1

BEFORE THE MOUSE

"There are more things in heaven and earth than are

dreamt of in your philosophy."

Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

See that quote up there ? It’s true. The world is full of many strange peculiarities. I ought to know. I’ve witnessed numerous unbelievable, downright bizarre phenomena which most people have not seen. Yet they are right under your nose. This is my first account of a series of odd occurrences in my life—and this is the tamest one. So, pull up a chair and make yourself comfortable.

To begin this story, I need to take you back in time to August of 1984. Back to the wonderful year Michael Jackson and Prince ruled the radio airwaves. The year The NeverEnding Story was one of the best movies released, and an addictive, mysterious game called Dungeons & Dragons was being played rabidly by kids everywhere.

I was ten years old and going into the fifth grade.  I had moved with my family from Oklahoma to a small Route 66 town in southeast Kansas called Baxter Springs. Ken, my stepdad of two years, taught fifth grade there. Guess who was going to be his new student.  That’s right!  Me.

Ken took me to tour my new school, Lincoln Elementary a few weeks before school started. A tall, wiry man with spectacles and a shiny bald head greeted us.  Ken stopped in front of the man and gestured to me.

Mr. Hardy, this is my stepdaughter, Celeste. Celeste, this is your principal.

Hello there, young lady, Mr. Hardy said, peering down at me.

Hi. I averted my eyes and ducked my head as he continued to study me. I don’t enjoy people staring at me.

Mr. Hardy put his hands on his sides. Are you going to be a troublemaker, young lady? You look like trouble.

I looked up at him, my eyes wide. No, sir. 

Ken nudged me. He’s teasing you, Celeste. Come on.

I’ll be watching you, Mr. Hardy called after us as we departed down the hall.  Ken led me to a small room next door to the fourth-grade classroom. This is our classroom. There were Tandy 1000 computers and two very long bookshelves.

Oh, have I told you about my record collection? Ken asked.

No.

Come on, I’ll show you. He led me over to a small table that held a record player.

You keep a record player here in your classroom? I asked him in surprise.

Yes. I like to listen to music while I work here, he answered. Sometimes I like to play storybook albums for my class. When we have free time, we listen to music.

Ken pointed over at the two long bookshelves. On the bottom of the one under the window, were a few records lined up in a row. I walked over and knelt to read the titles. 

Two titles caught my eye.  The first was Me and the Critters. Hmm, I’ve never heard of that. I pulled out the record. It was a single. The artwork on the cover reminded me of the Holly Hobbie books.

On the center of the cover was a girl with braids and freckles, and she wore a long, old-fashioned dress and bonnet. This girl looked like she’d be right at home on the pages of Little House on the Prairie. A cute little rabbit was curled up on her lap. What’s that on her knee? I squinted closer to find it was a little mouse. On her head were a couple of birds. A raccoon peeked out from a hole in the tree. It made me think of Snow White.

The other album cover had a picture of a chalkboard writing slate like kids in one-room schoolhouses used, with the title Blank Slate.

"Oh, you found my Me and the Critters and Blank Slate albums, Ken said as he came up beside me. Those were recorded by an ancestor of mine long, long ago. Her name was Aggie, and she was a local folk singer.  They’ve been passed down through my family.  My favorite is Me and the Critters."

Why is that one your favorite? I asked.

Ken thought in silence for a moment, then answered, "It makes me happy. I listen to it when I need cheering up. Blank Slate makes me sad, though I don’t know why, so I don’t listen to that one anymore.  I only keep it because it’s a family heirloom."

Really? I asked.

Yes. Do you want to listen to one of those?

I studied the cover of the one with the animals Ken liked best. I nodded and handed it to him. Ken took the record over and placed it on the turntable of the record player.

The strains of a woman strumming a guitar while singing, humming, and whistling a folk tune floated into my ears as I roamed around the classroom. 

Come to me little critters

Share with me your secrets

Come to me near, I have a listening ear

I have the courage to hear

What you need to say

The lyrics were unusual, but the music made me want to dance, though I was not a dancer.  That song made me buoyant and happy. Somehow, my fears about starting a new school dissolved.

When the song ended, Ken asked, Did you like it?

Yeah, it was neat. I liked it more than I thought I would.

Have you seen enough of the classroom?

Yeah. Can I go play on the playground?

Sure. Come back in about thirty minutes or so, and we’ll go home for lunch.

I walked out the doors onto the playground. It looked like every other playground on the planet. The only thing of note so far was the giant slide. It was the tallest slide I had ever seen in my life.  I kid you not, it seemed to reach a height of fifteen feet up or higher.

I walked past the swings, a big jungle gym, and my eyes spied a crosswalk connected to a bridge. Just where the crosswalk ended, was a wall made of dirt and rocks, and a little creek flowed under the bridge. Nice!

Something about this place drew me in. Maybe because of the creek nearby. Perhaps because it seemed set apart from the rest of the playground.  A few tall trees stood guard around the area.  Not far on the other side was a hedge.  Built into the front of this wall was a rocky ledge, a perfect place to sit. I sat on the ledge and looked around me.  It may sound silly, but I felt invisible, safe. I grinned. This is going to be my spot to hide.

Nothing was outstanding in my eyes about the school or the playground, other than the rock wall and the extremely tall slide.

Yet I had no way to know what was to come: that something in that school yard was not ordinary. I had no idea I was about to embark on one of the strangest, yet most wonderful years of my life.

2

THE ADVENTURE BEGINS

Ispent the morning of my first day at my new school combing through my long, thick, honey-blonde waves, hoping I could tame them. My hair had a mind of its own most days, often frizzing at the slightest bit of humidity, or even for no reason at all. I dealt with it by pulling it back and tying it with a ribbon. I loved wearing ribbons (still do) and my favorite was my pretty blue one. But I left my hair down that day, hoping it would behave after I had valiantly fought it with my comb. 

I had dressed in my blue overall shorts over a yellow shirt, and my white Adidas shoes. I thought I looked decent enough, so I went to say goodbye to Mom and my baby sister. Ken was already at the school. 

I kissed Mom and Amanda, then headed to the door with my backpack, which held my slingshot and stones. What’s that? Oh yes, I can shoot a slingshot. But more on that later, I promise.

No sooner had the screen door slammed shut behind me, I heard a pitiful wail. I turned to see my baby sister standing at the door crying. She didn’t want me to leave. 

My heart twisted as I knelt to the screen. Hey, Amanda, it’s okay. I’ll be back later, I promise.

When I got to the school, I crossed the crosswalk, and walked over the little bridge over the rock wall. I looked at the little creek that ran under the bridge, wishing I could sit there a while, but I decided to come back during the first recess. 

As I walked to the front door, I came upon three girls. One had curly red hair and icy blue eyes. The second had hair as black and glossy as a crow’s feathers, caramel-colored skin and electric-blue eyes. The third had light brown hair, freckles, and brown eyes. All three were extremely pretty, more so than I was or ever would be for sure. 

The redhead huffed out a laugh when I got closer and muttered, Who let in the ostrich?

This happened to me a lot because I was tall for my age and kind of skinny. I already dwarfed these three girls.

The brown-haired girl snorted and pointed at my legs. Hahaha! Look at those scrawny sticks! 

I stopped in my tracks.

The girl peered closer and tittered, Are those bruises?

Probably. I was a clumsy oaf and it wasn’t an uncommon sight to see the evidence of this on my knees, but I had forgotten about this when I got dressed that morning.

The redhead wrinkled her nose, and her mouth curled in a manner of someone being forced to drink a cup of curdled milk as she stared at me, eyeballing my outfit with scorn. I looked down to see if I had a stain or a hole, but there was nothing of the kind. I guess I wasn’t dressed right.

The redhead smirked now and gestured at my hair. You look like a scarecrow. Ever heard of a brush?

My hand flew to my hair to smooth it down, my face hot. I hung my head and hurried into the school without saying anything, the girls’ laughter chasing after me. I don’t know what the other girl would have said if I had stayed there, but I didn’t want to give her the chance.

I later found out their names: Josie Eades was the red-haired leader, Dani Belk was the crow head, and Tracy Pepper was the girl who laughed at my skinny, banged-up legs. I’d eventually refer to them secretly as The Glam Girls.

I walked into the classroom and saw a bunch of kids look up and stare as I entered. I turned my head away to avoid making any eye contact, spying a seat at the very back near the window. I headed towards that seat, glad to see nobody had claimed it yet. I wanted to sit in the back and not attract anyone’s attention.

But that was not going to happen. After we finished the flag salute, Ken said, Celeste, stand up.

I stood from my seat, slowly. My arms were crossed over my chest, my eyes aimed down at the floor as I listened to Ken tell the class about me. I really don’t enjoy being the center of everyone’s attention. But I guess it’s because he knew that I would not exactly volunteer the information because that would require me to actually talk to the other kids. 

During math, Ken asked us to pass our papers to the person in front of us. I handed my paper to a pale-faced, red-headed boy named Rick. I gave him the tiniest smile as I did so.

To my surprise, a disgusted expression crawled onto his face like a spider as he gingerly took my paper from me. Then he began to shake it like he was shaking loose something clinging to the paper. I recoiled a bit, tilted my head, and peered at him.

Seeing my puzzled expression, he explained in a serious tone of voice: Cooties.

Oh, he’s shaking off my nasty girl cooties. 

I saw him do a similar thing to a girl named Cindy the next day. I began secretly calling him Rick the Ginger or Ginger Rick in my mind after that day.

For the first month of school, I silently sat in the back and observed my classmates. This was my way of learning about them without talking to them because I was too afraid at first. 

The smartest girl in my class was Michelle Moreno. She was a straight-A student and the one who had a quick-draw hand. You know, the one whose hand is always first up in the air.

The best athlete in our grade, and probably our whole school, was a boy named Johnny Mendoza. Listening to the fourth and fifth-grade girls’ gossip, I also learned he was quite sought after as the best looking boy in school. 

Dani Belk, whom you’ve already met as one of the Glam Girls, was not only pretty, but was a star athlete, too. She had a wicked serve at volleyball, was an ace softball player, and could outrun all the boys in a footrace on the playground during recess—even Johnny could barely keep stride with her. 

I learned right away who my enemies would be. Three boys I’d dub ‘The Beastly Trio.’ 

Who are these beasties, you ask? You’ve seen the movie, Gremlins, right? I’ll put it this way...I’d rather tangle with a herd of those creatures. Those guys made those gremlins look like cuddly little teddy bears.

The leader of The Beastly Trio was a husky boy with floppy hair named Brad Payton. His two best friends were a heavyset boy with large feet named Alex Wall and a tall, scraggly-haired boy named Kevin Scaley. Those two did everything Brad commanded. If he had ordered them to put on a tutu and dance Swan Lake in the middle of the classroom, they’d have done it.

Brad and his goons didn’t waste any time to single me out.  The first encounter I had was the day I had the bad luck of standing next to Brad in gym class. We were all in a circle surrounding a giant parachute.  

Mr. Lamke droned on about the instructions, oblivious. I felt a sudden, sharp pinch on my earlobe.  I sucked in a quick breath and turned.  Brad wore his best, pristine, angelic little expression on his face as he pretended to focus on our teacher with rapt attention. 

It’s strangely appropriate to me now that he wore a Predator T-Shirt that day. Brad might not be seven feet tall, have a metal face mask, dreadlocks, and a plasma cannon on his shoulder, but he preyed on weaker people for sport.

A thin, black-haired boy in a G.I. Joe shirt and camo pants stood on my other side. His name was Gary Reed. Gary was quieter than I was. Most of the time, he had exactly one facial expression: somber.  He saw me looking at him and raised an eyebrow. 

Okay, so it probably wasn’t him. I turned back to the parachute. 

Another pinch. Ouch! That felt worse that time.

I whipped around, and this time, Brad smirked at me. I shot a ferocious glare at him, but we were interrupted when Mr. Lamke commanded the class to take hold of the parachute.  We were all busy flapping the parachute up and down as fast and furiously as we could. 

Then Mr. Lamke directed us to pull up on the parachute, let it billow in the air, and run underneath it. We all did so, but as we started to run back out, something hooked around my ankle.  I fell with my section of the parachute on top of me—and the weight of someone’s body pounced on me over the parachute.  I hit the floor with a thud, the wind knocked out of me for a few seconds. Oh, it hurt!

Asharp whistle pierced the air.

Hey! Quit fooling around you two! Mr. Lamke barked. 

The heavyweight removed itself.  I scrambled out from beneath the parachute to see it had been Brad.  He laughed and pointed at me.  My face was traffic-light red as I stood back from him. 

A hand snaked toward my ear in my peripheral vision. I slapped the hand away as hard as I could. 

What’d ya do that for? Brad sneered as he shook his hand. I didn’t do anything to you.  It was all Gary.

I turned to look at Gary again, whose face now looked pale.  He raised his hands in the air, eyes wide.  No, it wasn’t me.

Thankfully, P.E. was over. Okay, kids! Get in line! Mr. Lamke hollered.

The Beastly Trio took turns to harass me after that day. They flicked or pinched my ears or anywhere else they could pinch on my body, tripped me, and sometimes shoved me hard from behind. They also found out how tender headed I was when they began yanking my ponytail. I had to quit wearing my favorite suspenders, because they often yanked me back by the straps, and painfully snapped them too. They whispered unflattering things about me within earshot.

Celeste is not very cute, is she?

Yeah, she sure is scrawny.

Back then, I had to agree that I was unremarkable. Besides being tall and gangly, my face was ordinary. The only features I liked about myself were the dimple in my left cheek and my eyes. They are turquoise with a gold crown-like ring around the pupils.

She almost never says anything in class.

When she does talk, she talks so weird. I can’t understand some of what she says.

This was the hazard of being a bookworm. I had been reading since I was three, so my vocabulary was slightly higher than most kids my age.

She has a weird name too. Who has a name like Celeste? 

I thought her name was Chelsea? 

This was often a problem. Just so you know, my name is pronounced Suh-lest. But people often thought it was Chelsea. Even a few of my old teachers hadn’t gotten it right. 

I would have been content to sit quietly in my seat at the back near the window, hoping nobody noticed me for the rest of the school year, because I didn’t want any trouble with anyone.

But this was not to be.

3

CELESTE THE WARRIOR

STOP flicking my ear , Brad! That hurts!" I moved away from him, giving him a good glare.

All right, keep your hands to yourself, Brad! Ken reprimanded.

I was in line with my class to go to recess. Brad thought it would be amusing to flick my ear once again with his finger and thumb. 

The bell rang, and Brad didn’t touch me again, to my relief. I went to my preferred spot, the rock wall under the bridge, connected to the crosswalk. I walked over this same crosswalk and bridge every day to the school. I had been right to pick this spot; it felt unseen by anyone. Nobody ever tried to approach me, and rarely did any kids go over there to play.

It was now the middle of September, and I still didn’t have any friends. I didn’t mind being alone though. I’d much rather draw or read anyway. 

That fateful day, I sat under a tree not far from the wall, drawing a unicorn. I like unicorns. I had added the horn when I heard shouts and hoots from some of the boys in my class playing kickball, not too far away from where I sat.

Then I heard Brad holler, Alex, whatcha got there?

It’s a mouse! Alex shouted back.

This made me lift my head. A mouse?

Alex held something in his hand now. Brad and Kevin crowded around him to take a look.

Where’d ya find it? Brad demanded. 

What’s wrong with it? chimed in Kevin.

I guess the ball bounced on it when you kicked it over there. Alex pointed over to a spot at the rock wall. It was right underneath the ball.

I craned my neck to see it, but Alex’s hand was in a fist, and I could only see his big back.  

Throw it to me! Brad hollered and lifted his hands.

Alex tossed a tiny mouse to Brad. My jaw dropped as I watched the poor little creature sail through the air, its legs flailing. Alex caught the mouse and threw it over to Kevin.

To my horror, Kevin kicked the mouse like a hacky-sack ball over to Brad, who kicked it to Alex again. Kids now gathered around, some of the girls screaming, as the three boys alternated kicking and tossing the little mouse back and forth.

The more I watched, the more horrified I became. If only Ken hadn’t taken my slingshot. Ken let me take it in my backpack since I walked to school alone every day. But he took it when I got there and returned it to me at the end of each day. He said this was because I couldn’t have that on me during school. 

I couldn’t have told you what got into me when I came to remember it later. I wasn’t what anyone would call brave. But watching them do this, I couldn’t let them continue.  I rose to my feet and dashed as fast as I could over there, though I hardly knew what I would do.

Now the mouse was on the ground. It tried to get to its feet, but it wobbled.  Good! It’s still alive!

Brad walked up to the mouse and lifted his foot directly over it. Oh, holy crap! Is he going to stomp on it?? I charged up to the boys, gathered my vocal cords together and roared, NOOO!! 

Brad jumped, then slowly lowered his foot, as Kevin and Alex huddled around us. All three of them forgot about the mouse for a moment and gawked at me. The poor tortured mouse lay there quietly now. It’s not moving!

The whole playground was quiet as a graveyard as the kids all stared at me. I broke out into a sweat and my hands trembled a bit. Being the center of attention will do that to me.

I darted over and scooped up the mouse. I crouched in what I hoped was a convincing fighting stance, with my hands balled into fists, in case they decided to jump me.

A picture containing snow, child Description automatically generated

The boys laughed. Aw , come on. Give it back to us, Chelsea, Alex demanded.

"It’s Celeste, not Chelsea, you fool! I rolled my eyes in disgust. And no! You can’t have it! What are you, a bunch of psychos? Who kicks around a mouse, then tries to stomp on it?" I screamed at them.    

The boys looked at each other, frowned, and started towards me. I backed away from them, clutching the mouse tight, relieved to feel its heart beating fast in my hand. It’s still alive! I wanted to check it over for injuries, but first I needed to lose those creeps.

Just stay back, all of you! I shouted as I took my other hand and did a sweeping motion at them, as if I could sweep them all away from me. I turned and sprinted away from them. I’m not a runner, but that day, in that moment, I could have blown past a whole track team.

I got to the field area where we played softball or kickball for outdoor P.E. class and looked back to see that Ken had corralled the boys and appeared to be talking to them. The other kids in the class had drifted away from there. 

I sat under a tree next to the red backstop, my body shaking. I opened my hand to look at the mouse. The pitiful creature was pretty beaten up; its fur stood up in all directions, but it was alive.  It tried to stand up but was still a bit shaky on its teeny legs.  Its heart was beating so fast it felt as though it were zooming!  Poor thing must have been so scared having some big object sail over and land on it, nearly crushing it, then having those bullies torture it.

The mouse managed to get to its feet at last, then looked up at me.  Wait! Is it making eye contact with me? Do mice do that kind of thing?

Sorry about them, I whispered to the mouse. They’re beasts! 

It’s quite alright, dear. Thanks to you, said a cheery girl’s voice.

I lifted my