Stop the Presses! (12 page)

At home, the decorating committee was in full swing, and my room was looking even more amazing by the minute. Oh, and the sparkling with pizzazz design? Totally the new look for Allie's room.

I was still searching for a way to solve the whole Hailey dilemma, though. I was past the point of being angry. I just wanted to find a way to put it all behind me so we could move on, whether we would ever be best friends again or not. It was so uncomfortable seeing each other around school. Now I knew that every time Hailey looked at me—even when she was surrounded by her friends—the look that she was giving me wasn't spiteful. She seemed as upset as I was, and I really felt terrible about sending the e-mail. I had hurt my best friend as much as
she had hurt me, and I didn't know how to make it better.

I even told Michael all about the e-mail. Considering that we were calling ourselves friends now, and not just co-reporters, and considering that he had already cared enough to try to make things better between us, I thought he might have some more advice for me. He was stumped, though.

“That's tough, Sam,” he said. We were at his house hanging out. “Did you tell her that you didn't mean to send it?”

“I didn't get a chance,” I said. “And that would just sound stupid anyway. I wrote it, so obviously I felt that way. Whether I sent it or not doesn't really matter.”

“That's true,” he said. “I still think you both just need to tell each other how you feel.”

“That's a little hard to do when the other person won't listen,” I said. “Not that I blame her.”

“I'm sure you'll figure out it,” Michael said. “And if you need my help, I'll be there.”

“I know,” I said. “I do have one favor to ask you.”

“Sure. What do you need?” Michael asked.

“Could you pitch a little better the next time you play West Hills?” I joked. “Maybe even strike out Danny Stratham?”

“Oh, that is a definite yes,” Michael replied.

“Good,” I said. “Maybe a fastball or something.” I was totally joking around. I don't really know the difference between a fastball and a curveball.

“Well, aren't you Little Miss Know-It-All herself?” said Michael, laughing.

I stopped laughing. “Why would you say that?” I panicked. No one was supposed to know I was Dear Know-It-All.

“Wait . . . what?” said Michael. “I was just joking.”

“You said I was Know-It-All!” I said, my face getting hot.

“Well . . . ,” said Michael, looking straight at me. “Aren't you?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Nope. Not me. Not at all. I mean, I never really know anything about anything. How could I know anything to write about?
Or tell people what to do? I'm a mess.”

Michael was smiling at me. “Okay,” he said. “You are Dear Know-Nothing.”

“Yep!” I said. “That's me!” I was trying to figure out if Michael believed me or if he was just teasing me. I was kind of tired from all the drama of the past few weeks. I didn't want to guess anymore.

“I don't like Danny Stratham,” I said.

“You said that,” said Michael.

“I like you,” I said. Oh. My. God. Did I just say that? Did aliens come down and abduct my mouth?

“I like you too, Sam,” said Michael. He was smiling a lot now.

We sat there looking at each other for a while.

“Okay, well, I should get going,” I said. “I told my mother I would be home by now.”

“I'll walk you halfway,” said Michael.

I wondered if he noticed that I was walking really slowly. It was just kind of nice to be walking together, not saying anything.

“Well, this is halfway,” he said. We stopped.

He reached over and whispered in my ear, “I like you a lot, Sam.” Six little words. Six shocking words. I was so surprised I kind of whipped my head around, and when I did, his mouth landed on mine, and well . . . we kind of stayed there for a second. I don't think he meant to kiss me. We were both a little startled. But neither of us really pulled away either. It. Was. Awesome. And at that moment, there was only one person I wanted to tell all about it.

Allie came into my room on Saturday morning carrying a big package. It was a new comforter and sheet set for my bed, with inspirational words printed all over it. Perfect, of course.

“Did you ever work things out with Hailey?” Allie asked.

“Nope,” I said. “I really don't know how to.”

Allie and I stripped the sheets off my bed. She held up the jump rope that was still under my pillow.

“What's this?” she asked. “It seems like it would be a little uncomfortable to sleep on. Is it part of that new sleep routine?”

“No.” I laughed. “It's just a reminder.”

I told Allie the story of the jump rope and how Hailey and I first became friends. It seemed like something that everyone should have known already, but I guess if you weren't there, how would you know?

“I think that's your clue,” Allie said, holding up the jump rope.

“It is?” I asked.

“Yep,” said Allie. “You need to think about the reasons that you and Hailey first became friends, and you need to remind her of that.”

“Did I ever tell you you're amazing?” I asked.

“Maybe once.” Allie laughed. “But keep saying it.”

Allie had given me the seed for the perfect plan. I worked late into the night, a lot later than my sleep routine usually allowed, but on Sunday morning, I was all ready.

I hit the print key on my computer, threw the paper in my backpack, and grabbed the jump rope.

“Where are you going with that?” Mom asked as I headed out the door. “I haven't seen you use that thing in years.”

“I haven't,” I said. “It's just like riding a bicycle—something you never forget how to do. Oh, and I'm just running to Hailey's for a little bit. Is that okay?”

“It's more than okay,” Mom replied, smiling. “Good luck!”

I knew Hailey would be driving home with her family soon. They always had Sunday breakfast at the diner together, and I knew I was about to totally humiliate myself in front of them, but it didn't matter. Some things are a lot more important.

I planted myself on Hailey's front lawn and attempted to jump rope. At first, I was as pathetic as the first time I tried to do it in the school yard. But it is like bike riding, something that sticks in your muscle memory, I guess. I jumped up and down and sang our favorite jump rope songs at the top of my lungs, just like I was little again.

Hailey's mom and dad pulled up and waved to me. I knew they probably thought I was crazy, but I also knew that like my mom, they knew how much this fight was hurting Hailey—and me. After the rest of her family went inside, Hailey
stood at the car and stared at me. I didn't care. I kept on jumping.

“What are you doing, Sam?” Hailey asked. “You're embarrassing yourself. You are really terrible at jumping rope. And we're totally too old to be doing that.”

“I don't care,” I said.

I kept on singing:

“Strawberry shortcake

Huckleberry pie

Who's going to be your lucky guy?

A, B, C . . .”

“That's not how it goes, Sam,” Hailey said.

“Oh yeah?” I replied. “Then show me.”

I handed the jump rope to Hailey. She started jumping like an expert, of course.

“Strawberry shortcake

Cream on top

Tell me the name of your sweetheart.

Is it A, B, C . . . ?”

“That's how it goes,” Hailey said after she jumped all the way to
Z
.

“Now I remember,” I said. “Do you remember
when you gave me this jump rope?”

Hailey started to cry. “I'm sorry, Sam,” she said. “I can't.”

“Hailey, please,” I said, starting to cry too. “Just give me five minutes. After all the jump roping we've shared, could you just give me five minutes?”

It was working. Hailey put her head down, but didn't leave. I picked up my backpack and took out the paper. I didn't show her yet, but it was a four-page newspaper. I had spent all night writing and designing it. The headline on the front page read:
Cherry Valley Rejoices as BFFs Reunite
.

There was no story under the headline, though.

“I just want to show you something,” I said as I sat down on her front steps. “I made it for you.”

I handed the newspaper to Hailey. She started to cry more when she read the headline.

“I actually did it a little backward,” I said. “The front page is the latest news. The story starts inside.”

I opened up the paper and pointed to the article
on the top left. It was titled:
Girl Takes Friend Under Her Wing in School Yard
.

I had found a picture of Hailey and me jumping rope when we were little. Even though it wasn't taken in the school yard, it fit the story perfectly. I wrote all about that day at recess. Every other article on the page was a story from our friendship.
Martone Visits Best Friend in Hospital After Tonsillectomy; Hailey and Sam Head Off to Middle School; Hailey Victorious in Student Government Election.

The last page was taken up by one story.

Best Friends Fight; Observers Fear They Will Never Make Up.

I wrote every single thing that happened in that story, from when I started feeling like Hailey had abandoned me to the moment when I knew that Hailey had mistakenly gotten my e-mail. I tried to be a good reporter and write a fair and balanced account. I really hoped that I had succeeded.

Hailey stopped crying as she read all the stories. When she got to the end of the last page, she looked up at me.

“I can't believe you did all of this,” she said.

“That's what friends do,” I replied. “Hailey, I don't know what to say besides I'm sorry,” I continued. “I really thought you were trying to hurt me. And I just kept getting angrier and angrier about it. I should have told you how I felt from the beginning, but it always seemed like you were too busy to talk to me.”

“I thought you were trying to hurt
me
,” Hailey said. “I thought you would be so excited about a digital edition—it's the way almost every newspaper is heading, so I thought it would give you a great start for your journalism career. I was so excited to announce it and I was so proud of the GO GO name. I thought you'd love it. I never thought you'd be mad about it.”

“Well, I was,” I said. “I guess I thought you knew me better. Anyway, we obviously have a lot to work out,” I added. “That's why I left the front page blank. I was hoping that even if you can't be my best friend again, we can at least figure out a way to be nice to each other.”

“Um . . . why can't we be best friends again?” Hailey asked.

There were so many things I wanted to say when Hailey said that, but none of them could really express the way I was feeling. So I just put my head on her shoulder and cried. I felt Hailey's head rest on mine, and our tears mixed together and splattered on the front page. It was like they were writing the cover story.

“Hey, did you know that Allie redecorated my room?” I sniffed.

“Are you kidding me?” Hailey said. “I have
got
to see that. Is it gold and bright pink?”

“Why don't you come over?” I suggested. “It's actually pretty amazing.”

“I'd like to,” Hailey said.

I handed the newspaper to Hailey and she ran inside to put it away and to tell her parents that she was going to my house for a bit. She came out with her old jump rope in her hand.

I'm sure that if anyone from Cherry Valley Middle School saw us skipping down the street singing jump rope songs, they would have
wondered what was wrong with us. They probably would have said something like, “Look at those two girls skipping rope down the street! They are too old to be doing something as silly as that.” We didn't care. We had each other. Nothing else mattered. That's what friends are for.