Stop the Presses! (5 page)

Wh-wh-what? There is no way I just heard Hailey say what she said. I looked at Michael, and he looked just as shocked. He shrugged his shoulders and mimed writing on paper to signal that I should just keep taking notes. Which was a little problematic, because I realized that I had been holding my pencil so tightly while listening to Hailey that it had snapped in half.

I grabbed another pencil from my backpack and returned to taking notes, trying to remember that once upon a time, Hailey had been my best friend.

“There's an easy solution to the problem,” Hailey continued. “Let's take the
Voice
into the twenty-first century.
Get on board
the GO GO subcommittee, and we'll help the
Voice
go online! We'll save paper, we'll save trees, and we'll save money that the school can use for even more important things, like equipment for the sports teams.”

That was a low blow. Hailey knew almost everyone in school cared more about the sports teams than they did about the newspaper.

Hailey finished her speech by giving some statistics about carbon dioxide emissions and comparisons between printed papers and their digital equivalent. When she was done, at least twenty kids raised their hands to join GO GO. Unbelievable! My best friend was determined to destroy one of the most important things in the world to me, and she didn't even seem to care.

As everyone shuffled out of the auditorium, I just sat there, speechless. Michael looked at me and laughed nervously.

“This should make for an interesting story, right, Pasty?” he asked.

I didn't even know how to answer, because just then I looked up and saw Hailey heading my way.

“Hey, Sam. I'm sorry,” she said. “I was planning to fill you in on all of this, but I was so busy with Anthony getting ready for this meeting, I just never got a chance.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” I replied. “It had nothing to do with the fact that you're destroying my hopes and dreams . . . my reason for living.”

I think Hailey thought I was joking.

“Funny, Sam.” Hailey laughed. “That's hardly true. The
Voice
will still be published, just digitally. Everyone will be able to read it online whenever they want. It's so convenient. No more lugging the paper around, crushing it into the bottom of your backpack, finding it three weeks later.”

“I don't crush the
Voice
,” I said, my face getting hot. “I read it. But I forgot. Of course you don't understand the value of the printed word. You don't even like to read, I guess because it's so hard for you!”

I could tell my verbal arrow hit the mark,
because Hailey's eyes immediately showed the hurt she felt. Even Michael gasped.

“That was uncalled for, Sam,” Hailey said sadly. “I was worried that you might act like this. You are so self-involved sometimes. You can never see that anyone else might have a point of view that's different from your own.”

“Are you kidding me, Hailey? I'm so self-involved?” I gasped. “Miss Watch-Me-Run-Around-the-Soccer-Field-I'm-Such-a Gifted-Athlete-and-You're-Such-a-Klutz.”

Michael put his hand on my arm.

“Sam, let's go back to the newsroom and go over our notes,” he said. “We can compare our feelings about the proposal.”

“Yeah, Pasty, that should make you happy,” Hailey hissed. “Spend a little time sharing feelings with your favorite crush . . . I mean . . . co-reporter.”

My face had been hot before; now it was on fire. I grabbed my backpack and ran out of the auditorium. I didn't stop until I reached my front door. I didn't want Hailey, or Michael, to see me
cry. Not only was I about to lose the
Voice
, but I had lost my best friend, too. Hailey and I have had our disagreements before, but this was much more than a disagreement. Hailey had declared war on the
Cherry Valley Voice
, and that means she had just declared war on me.

I knew if Mom heard me come in crying she would want to talk, and I really wasn't ready to talk about what had happened yet. I quietly entered the kitchen and mumbled, “Hey, Mom,” and she mumbled back to me. Luckily, Allie was in her room with her headphones on, probably listening to some motivational designer talk about transforming your life through the magic of the colors that surround you. Blech!

I put my backpack on my chair, closed the door, and changed into pajamas. I knew it was only three thirty p.m., but I wasn't planning on going anywhere. I figured I could always use the “I'm not feeling so hot” excuse if Mom asked, but considering how busy with work she was, she probably wouldn't ask anyway. I had already done my homework, so I crawled under my comforter,
rolled into a ball, and sobbed softly so Mom couldn't hear me.

I wished that Hailey had never been elected to student government. I wished that I had chosen someone else to be best friends with. I wished that I could go back to the newsroom and tell Mr. Trigg that I didn't want to work on the Green Team story. But most of all, I wished that both Hailey and I could take back the things that we had said to each other, because I was worried that things would never be the same between us again.

I must have cried myself to sleep, because I woke up to the sound of the phone ringing and Allie shouting, “Sam!”

I looked at my alarm clock and it said 7:00. Panic time! I had slept through the night without even realizing it, and I was going to be late for school! I threw on some leggings and a T-shirt, grabbed my backpack, and ran downstairs. As soon as I looked at the table and the sky outside the kitchen window, I could see my mistake. There was a box and three plates on the table. Two of the plates had pizza crust on them and a third was clean. The sun outside the window was setting in the sky, not rising. It was
seven p.m.! I hadn't slept the whole night. I had just taken a really long nap.

I felt disoriented and fuzzy, and that feeling didn't get better when Allie asked, “What are you doing, Sam?”

“I'm just going to have some pizza,” I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “I wasn't feeling well before. I guess I fell asleep.”

“Okay, that's fine,” Allie said. “But what about the phone?”

Allie waved the receiver around in the air. Right, the phone. It had rung, and Allie had called me. That must mean the phone call was for me. My brain cells were obviously not fully awake yet. Duh.

Allie put her hand over the receiver and whispered loudly, “It's Michael.”

Great. I couldn't get out of talking to him now. He had probably heard everything Allie and I said to each other before that. I grabbed the receiver and walked into the hall.

“Hello?” I said, trying to not sound like I had just woken up.

“Hey, Sam,” Michael said. “I just wanted to check and make sure you're okay.”

“I'm okay,” I replied. “Why, is something wrong?”

“Oh, well, you know, everything that happened today in the meeting,” he stammered. “And then I tried texting you, and I called your cell a couple of times, and I started to get worried when you didn't answer.”

I unzipped my backpack and took out my cell phone. Sure enough, I had missed texts
and
phone calls from Michael. It figured. It was that kind of a day.

“Sorry. I just got busy and I forgot to take my phone out of my backpack,” I answered. “I'm fine, really.”

“I don't think Hailey was trying to hurt you with her idea,” Michael said. “It's not like other newspapers haven't gone digital.”

“Thank you for saying that. I disagree, though,” I replied. “I think Hailey knew exactly what she was doing. It's fine. I don't really care anymore.”

“Of course you care,” Michael said. “You're best friends.”

“Were best friends,” I corrected him. “Not are. I don't even know if we're friends at all anymore.”

“That's pretty drastic, don't you think?” Michael asked.

I never would have imagined that I would want a conversation with Michael to end, but this one needed to, badly. I was already on the verge of tears again, and I didn't want Michael to be on the other end of my latest sob fest.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn't,” I said. “I don't really want to talk about it. We have an article to write and a paper to save. Are you in or out?”

“I'm in, Pasty.” Michael laughed. “We'll talk more tomorrow. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and obviously you are.”

“I am,” I said. “I'll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

I hung up the phone and turned to find Allie looking at me suspiciously.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

I know Allie was being nicer to me lately, but
I didn't want to cry in front of her, either. So I didn't. I snapped.

“WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP ASKING ME THAT?” I screamed. “I'LL BE FINE IF YOU ALL JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

I grabbed my backpack and started to storm back up to my room. Then I turned around, grabbed two slices of pizza, plopped them on a plate, and stormed up to my room. All that sobbing can make a girl hungry.

I heard Mom come out of her office and Allie whisper something like, “I don't know, maybe puberty hormones.” I almost turned back around to throw my pizza at her, but decided it was better not to start another fight at the moment.

I was annoyed, but I couldn't help but laugh when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

“Gee, Martone, that would have been awkward,” I said to myself as I realized that I had been planning to rush to school with uncombed hair, a pair of leggings that had a juice stain on the front of them, and a T-shirt that I had outgrown six months ago. Allie would have definitely disowned me if that had
happened. Ugh, plus my eyes were red and puffy. I totally looked like I had been crying.

I sat in front of the computer. I was definitely not emotionally ready to start on the Green Team story. I didn't even want to think about what had happened today. I figured I could make a dent in the Dear Know-It-All column and put my mind on someone else's problems. I almost wished that I could have written myself a letter about what happened with Hailey. But that would have been too obvious. Besides, I wouldn't have a clue how to answer it.

Mr. Trigg had forwarded me some Dear Know-It-All e-mails that he had reviewed, so I started to read through them. One of them was a topic I hadn't gotten before.

Dear Know-It-All,

I have a sweater that my grandmother knit for me. She made it a few years ago, when I didn't care about fashion so much. It is definitely NOT a fashion statement. I used to wear it all the time, but now that I'm getting older, I'm worried that it's not such a good fit anymore. (It fits fine; you
know what I mean.) I'm torn, because I feel good when I wear it. It makes me feel close to her, and it's so comfortable. Could the sweater and I have outgrown each other? Should I give it to someone else and move on?

—A Tight Fit

I looked around my room. Allie had placed sticky notes on almost every item in it. An X meant that I should throw it away. A plus sign meant that I should keep it. A question mark meant that Allie didn't know what to do with it.

But there were some X's that I wasn't sure I was ready to give up yet. I wasn't even sure I was ready to give up the way my room looked anyway. I know Mom was excited about redecorating, and I was, too, but now I looked around and saw that my room was full of memories. Allie had put a lot of X's on my paper piles, and there was a big X on the bulletin board that was splattered with ridiculous headlines like
Jellyfish Apocalypse Not Coming
and
Alien Baby Looks
Like Katy Perry
. I knew that the bulletin board wasn't the most stylish thing in the room, and that it wasn't even particularly necessary, but it made me even sadder to think about losing it when I remembered that Hailey had contributed at least five of the headlines. That was when she was a real best friend, when she knew how much I cared about newspapers and had taken the time to cut out funny headlines for me. Now she just wanted to banish them forever.