Read All About It! (8 page)

Michael nudged me again. “Hey. I'll follow up on that state
funding he was talking about.”

“What?” It rang a bell but I wasn't sure what he
meant. I flipped through my notes but I couldn't find any reference to it.

Michael rolled his eyes at my notebook. “I'm going to head
out,” he said.

I was surprised that he would bail before the end of the meeting.
“Really? Things aren't even close to over,” I replied.

“The good stuff is,” he whispered with a shrug.
“Later, Crunchy.” And he stood up and left.

Crunchy?! Aargh! Just what I need. Another nickname!

And the worst part was, Michael was right. The rest of the meeting was
boring. At the very end it
kind of fell apart with people arguing
but not in an interesting way. Everyone pretty much stood up and left, and there was no
change or resolution in the end. The new curriculum was here to stay and everyone was
just going to have to get used to it.

I had wasted an extra hour trying to get more scoop, but it was Michael
who had the real nose for news, knowing when to pull the rip cord and just bail.
Annoying.

I was now late for dinner, behind on my homework, and I hadn't
started the Dear Know-It-All column. I comforted myself by thinking back to Mr. Bloom,
one of my teachers at journalism camp. He used to say 99 percent of being a journalist
is just waiting around for something to happen. For the second half of tonight's
meeting, he was right.

Chapter 9

GIRL GENIUS
STRIKES AGAIN

I was up early the next day, sifting through my usual news haunts and
checking my e-mail. There was one from Mr. Trigg, without anything in the subject
line.

I clicked on it and read it. It said, “Samantha, hello. How is the
new column coming along? I'd like to see a draft by Tuesday. Mr. T.”

I gulped. A draft? I hadn't even decided for sure on the question
yet and here it was, Friday! I slid out the packet of letters from behind my desk, where
it was hiding. There were seven in total because I'd picked up four more
yesterday.

Some were a little too heavy to deal with (like the bad home-life guy),
especially for the first
column of the year. Some were dumb (a girl
who can't remember her locker code). The one that kept drawing me back was the one
from the guy who had a crush on his best friend's crush. I knew it would be a
superpopular topic, and I wanted to lead the year with something hot. But what advice
would I give? I couldn't even figure out my own crush!

I clicked back on Mr. Trigg's e-mail and hit reply.
“Okay,” I typed. That was all. I pressed send and bit my lip. As a total
spazz in the romance department, I was really unqualified to answer this question. But
whom could I ask for advice?

There was a knock on the door. “Mom told me to make sure
you're up!”

Bingo!

I quickly closed my computer and stashed my envelope of letters, then I
bounced over to the door and flung it open. Allie looked surprised to see me all
bright-eyed so early in the morning. She had obviously assumed I was still asleep.

“Allie,” I said seriously. “I have a question for you.
It's . . . uh . . . it's part of something . . . something . . . we're
working on in the new
curriculum!” Eureka!
Girl Genius Strikes Again,
I thought. I smiled my most winning
smile.

Allie looked at me suspiciously and folded her arms. “Okay . .
.”

“What should someone do when he has a crush on the same girl his
best friend likes?” I asked.

Allie's eyebrows knit together. “This is for
school?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “It's . . . like a
role-playing thing in our humanities class.”

“Okay. Well, I know someone that that happened to . . .”

I knew I'd asked the right person! “And?”

“Well, there's really no right or wrong way to proceed in
this situation,” said Allie.

Wait, what? “But I need a concrete answer, fact based, you know? I
have to, like, pick a side. Go for it or back off, buddy. Which one is it?”

Allie shrugged. “It's not that easy. You have to really look
at all the factors. How important is the friendship? Is the crush really worth
it?” Just then her phone buzzed and she answered.

Ugh! “Hello? We are talking here!” I said, annoyed.

Allie pressed the phone to the side of her head
and
put her finger in her other ear to block me out. Then she turned away to walk to her
room.

I found myself standing alone in the hall in my pj's.

Great. Nothing like being the least important person in someone's
life.

I was dissatisfied with Allie's answer but I didn't have a
better one myself. Maybe I should just pick a different question, I thought as I headed
off to the shower.

TGIF! After my last class, I went to the newspaper office to check my
mailbox (desperate to find a new letter that would be positively awesome for my column)
before I left the building to meet Hailey down at the soccer field. I was sleeping over
at her house tonight and was really looking forward to it. I felt like I hadn't
seen her for days. I'd been so engrossed in reporting the curriculum article,
typing up the soccer tryouts article, and trying to stay on top of my confusing new
homework. Plus, tracking cutie Michael Lawrence whenever I had the chance!

And speak of the devil! I pushed open the office
door and instantly heard Michael's laughter. Yay! I had worn a new top today
that Mom bought me that even Allie said looked nice. I was beginning to think Michael
would never get to see me in it!

Inside I saw him and Jeff Perry leaning over the art director's
large computer monitor. They looked up.

“Sammy! C'mere! You've gotta see this!” said
Jeff, laughing and waving me over.

They were looking at photos Jeff had taken at the PTA meeting.

“Here. Check out Pfeiff,” he said.

The picture opened up huge on the screen and it was a picture of Mr.
Pfeiffer sitting quietly on the stage. Unfortunately, his hand was up at a weird angle
and it looked exactly like he was picking his nose.

“Isn't that killer?” said Michael.

Jeff tried to look modest. “‘Pfeiffer Picks a New
Curriculum'?” he said with a shrug and a smile.

Mr. Trigg walked in and called out a greeting. “Happy weekend and
all that!” he said.

Jeff and Michael looked at each other. “Show him,” said
Michael.

“Show me what, old chaps?” Mr. Trigg crossed
the room and came to stand behind the monitor. “Oh. That is rather
unfortunate,” he said.

“There are a few other good ones,” said Jeff proudly. He
scrolled through three more of Mr. Pfeiffer, one where he looked like he was going to
throw up, one where Jeff had caught him with his eyes mid-blink so he looked like he was
falling asleep in his chair, and one that was just kind of an ugly, unflattering
shot.

“Well, you certainly managed to catch Mr. Pfeiffer at some awkward
moments. You have quite the quick shutter speed, Jeff. Let's see some of the good
ones, though.”

Jeff looked up at him, his hand still on the mouse. “These are the
good ones.”

Mr. Trigg shook his head. “No, I mean the ones that we'll be
choosing from to run with the article.”

“That's what these are. I've narrowed it down.
‘Pfeiffer Asleep at the Switch,' ‘Pfeiffer Picks a Choice New
Curriculum,' and ‘Pfeiffer Sick of the Complaints.' Those are the
captions.”

Mr. Trigg was quiet for an extralong minute and we all got serious
because we realized he was not
happy. “Jeff, gang, stop for a
moment. Think about what we are here for.” He looked at the three of us carefully,
eye to eye. Jeff shifted uncomfortably. After a long pause, Mr. Trigg continued.
“Are we here to report the news? Or are we here to make people look like
fools?” He looked around at us again. “I think you know the answer to that.
We are not a tabloid, going for the quick laugh or the hurtful moment, are
we?”

I shook my head no, and finally, so did Jeff and Michael.

“Mr. Pfeiffer may be a public figure, of sorts, and so technically
he is fair game. But to make a mockery of him takes away from the hard reporting about
the facts that I know Michael and Samantha are doing. We must treat our subjects
respectfully and be mindful of our own credibility. These photos do tell a story of
sorts, but they are not the story we are reporting. They are a sideshow. Do you all
understand the difference?”

We nodded. I think Jeff felt bad. Not that he felt sorry for Mr.
Pfeiffer but more that he was embarrassed that Mr. Trigg might think he was
doing a bad job as photo editor. I looked at Michael. I
wasn't sure he felt bad.

Mr. Trigg looked around again. “Would you like a bad photo of you
out there for all the world to see? Maybe on Buddybook?”

I looked at Michael and saw that Mr. Trigg had just driven his point
home. Michael felt bad now too, I could tell. I wondered if Mr. Trigg had seen
Jeff's page when the football pictures were up. I wondered if he'd heard
about Jeff's almost-fight with Andy Ryan.

Jeff clicked on the thumbnails of the bad photos of Mr. Pfeiffer and
quietly dragged them into the computer's garbage can.

“Well done,” said Mr. Trigg. Then he continued in an upbeat
voice. “Now. Any fun weekend plans? I, for one, am off to hear a talk on Winston
Churchill by a visiting professor from Oxford! Can't wait!”

I smiled. Good old Trigger. “Have fun!” I said.

Mr. Trigg left with a “Cheerio!” and Michael looked at his
watch and announced it was time for football practice. Jeff was still sitting at the
computer, looking thoughtful.

“You okay, bud?” asked Michael.
“He wasn't mad at you or anything.”

Jeff sighed. “I know. I just hate to waste a good
photo.”

“I hear you,” said Michael.

“Do you think I should put them on Buddybook?” asked Jeff
hopefully.

“No,” Michael and I said in unison, then we laughed.

“Okay. Emptying trash,” said Jeff with a sigh, clicking a
few keys. “Have a good weekend, guys.”

I realized Michael and I were leaving at the same time and probably
heading in the same general direction.

“So guess what?” said Michael as we left.

“What?”

“I did an Internet search on the state funding that Mr. Pfeiffer
got for the new curriculum.” He had a small smile on his face.

“And?”

“And it's a little sketchy.”

“What! No way!” Of course I was paying such close attention
to Michael that I wasn't looking where
I was going. Someone
must've spilled something on the floor and I slid in the puddle.
“Whoa!” I yelled, clutching his sleeve to keep from wiping out.

I steadied myself without actually falling. “Sorry,” I
muttered, letting go of Michael's sleeve.

“I think we need to change your name to Trippy! Forget all the
other nicknames!”

“Thanks,” I said, annoyed. “So what did you find out?
How much money is it? What's it for?” I was excited! This was like real
reporting stuff.

“Down, Trippy!” said Michael, holding out a hand and
laughing. “I'm not really sure. I need to show it to my dad and have him
explain it to me. But it looks like the money is for the teachers, to develop the
curriculum. Not really for the students.”

“Wow.” That could be an interesting angle to the story.
“‘Pfeiffer Secures Funds for Teachers, Not
Kids,'”
I said, trying it out. “Keep me posted.”

“I still need to get a quote from Mrs. Jones,” said Michael.
“Then I'm pretty much done.”

“Yeah, I just need a teacher quote. I'm going to ask Mrs.
Frosch and then it's all wrapped up.”

We had reached the boys' locker room. I stood
there feeling a little awkward all of a sudden. The idea of kissing him good-bye
flitted through my head and I was mortified that I'd even thought it! I prayed
Michael couldn't read minds.

“So we need to get together and write the thing,” said
Michael.

“Yeah.” The idea of getting together with Michael was very
appealing.

“Let's meet at the library next week. Tuesday? Fourth period
like last week?”

I nodded, allowing myself to imagine Michael was asking me on a real
date. I felt all swoony inside.

“I'll wear a suit of armor and bring lots of food,” he
said. “I don't want to get hurt and I know how hungry you get. See ya,
Trippy!” And he went in the door.

My bubble was totally burst. I had made an impression all right. But
Michael hadn't noticed my new shirt. He noticed that I was a klutz. Right then I
hated him.