Stop the Presses! (7 page)

I immediately felt my body stiffen. Usually when kids were called to Mrs. Brennan's office, it wasn't the best of news.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked nervously.

“No, no, it's not that,” Mrs. Brennan said. “But do you have a couple of minutes to talk?”

“Sure,” I replied. “Can I just text my mom to let her know I'll be a little late? I just told her I was heading home now.”

“Of course,” she said. “I'll wait.”

I walked side by side with Mrs. Brennan to her office, but we didn't really talk much. I could see the few kids left in the hall staring, wondering what I had done wrong. I was thinking the same thing myself.

We got into the office, and Mrs. Brennan
gestured to the chair that was in front of her desk. I sat down.

“Samantha, you've always been an excellent student,” Mrs. Brennan began. “I don't think I can remember a time when you weren't on honor roll or principal's list.”

“Oh no!” I gasped. “Did I fail a test?”

“No!” Mrs. Brennan said. “Not that I know of, at least. I'm just wondering if you know how it might feel to not be so successful at school. To really have to struggle to keep up with your work.”

“I have an idea,” I said. “I have a friend—I mean, I know someone who has problems like that.”

“I know you do,” Mrs. Brennan said. “That's why I was so surprised to hear that you would bring something like that up in public, in school, in front of other people. As someone said, ‘Call out their disability for the world to see.' ”

“What?” I said, surprised. “I wouldn't do that. That's personal information. It's not something I would talk about.”

“I don't think you intentionally did, Sam,”
Mrs. Brennan agreed. “And from what the other witnesses have said, you didn't specifically mention the disability.”

“Witnesses?” I asked. “Are you sure I'm not in trouble?”

“I'm sure,” Mrs. Brennan said. “Sometimes when we're friends with someone, we share a lot of things that we don't want other people to know about. I just want you to think about that. You're not in trouble, but I want you to think about how the things you say might affect others. I want you to think about how it might feel if you say something about someone who isn't able to read well, even if it wasn't intended to be hurtful.”

Now I knew what Mrs. Brennan was talking about. Hailey! She was unbelievable! She went to Mrs. Brennan just because I said that she didn't like to read? I didn't say anything about her dyslexia, and almost everyone knew about that anyway because she got pulled out for reading intervention.

“Anyway, you're not in trouble. I know you're a great student and an asset to our school, but I just
want you to think about the situation from another person's point of view,” Mrs. Brennan said. “And if there are more problems, we may need to work this out some other way. But hopefully there won't be. Do you have any questions, Sam?”

“No, I understand perfectly, Mrs. Brennan,” I said as I stood up to leave. “And believe me, I won't be saying a word about another person. Or, for that matter, to them.”

Hailey had really gone too far now. She made it seem like I was the one who was insensitive. As if!

The one and only benefit of being called to Mrs. Brennan's office was that word spread like wildfire. I had just started walking home when Michael caught up to me.

“Pasty, wait.” He huffed, out of breath.

“I thought you were at practice,” I said.

“I was, but Coach let me leave early,” Michael explained. “I said I had a big test tomorrow.”

“Do you?” I asked.

“No. I heard you were with Mrs. Brennan,” he admitted. “I wanted to make sure everything went okay.”

“Everything?” I wondered.

“She called me into her office this morning,” said Michael. “She asked me what happened after the Green Team meeting. I figured something was up. Does it have anything to do with Hailey?”

“Oh yeah, something's up,” I agreed. “My former best friend is a traitor
and
a rat.”

“Or maybe your former best friend's feelings were really hurt?” Michael suggested.

“Michael, are you trying to get all guidance counselor-y on me?” I said, half joking and half annoyed. “Because I had one of those sessions already today. And I'm aware that I need to take other people's ‘point of view' into account.”

“I definitely do not want to be
your
guidance counselor.” Michael laughed. “That's way too much work.”

“Ha-ha, you're funny,” I snapped back. “Seriously, everything's fine.”

“Great, then why don't you come over and we'll work on the article,” Michael said. “I don't have time to make cinnamon buns, but I did call my mom and she said she can dig up some snacks
for us. I told her you're always hungry,” he said with a laugh.

“Now?” I asked. “I just told my mom I was coming home.”

“Okay, I can walk you home and wait outside while you ask her,” he said. “Then we can walk to my house together.”

This was not the way I had imagined my afternoon would turn out. It was soooo much better! I was pretty sure Mom would say okay. She was so busy with work it wasn't like we would be spending much time together anyway.

I rushed into the house and knocked on Mom's office door.

“Finally, you're home,” Mom said. “Is everything okay?”

“Better than okay, Mom,” I said. “Do you think I could go over to Michael's house for a while? We're working on a big story for the
Voice
.”

“Are his parents around?” Mom asked.

“Yes, his mother is home,” I said. “You can call her if you have to.”

“I trust you, Sam,” Mom said. “Just make
sure you're home for dinner.”

I raced upstairs, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and then shook it out so it wouldn't look like I had just combed it. Then I ran back downstairs and walked outside, trying to look casual.

“That was fast,” Michael noted. “Is it okay with your mom?”

“It's fine with her,” I said. “She just wanted to make sure there would be ‘adult supervision.' ”

Michael laughed. “I know. My parents are the same way.”

Michael and I spent the afternoon at his kitchen table. I tried not to roll my eyes when he took out the pile of printouts and pamphlets from Hailey.

“We need to be open to everyone's side,” he said.

“I've been reminded of that before.” I laughed. “A few times.”

“I had an idea for how we might work on the story,” Michael said. “I'll do the research about the benefits of digital publishing. You can handle the poll results and get some quotes from students who prefer paper. Next time we meet, we'll figure
out how to put it all together.”

“You're on a roll, Michael Lawrence,” I noted.

“Actually, I taste better on rye bread,” Michael joked. “With a little mustard.”

His joke was so dumb I couldn't stop laughing.

“You should stick with journalism—or sports,” I told him. “Because comedy is obviously not your thing.”

“I've been told that before.” He laughed. “A few times.”

We started to come up with some poll questions, and then we cut the list to four questions because we knew students wouldn't spend a lot of time answering them. The four questions were:

Do you read the
Cherry Valley Voice
weekly?

yes/no

Do you read any newspapers online?

yes/no

Would you read the
Cherry Valley Voice
online?

yes/no

Would you prefer to read the
Voice
printed or online?

printed/online

We debated whether we should post the poll on Buddybook, but I thought that the results might be biased toward students who use the computer a lot. We decided to do a combination Buddybook poll along with a printed poll that students could fill out in the cafeteria at lunchtime.

I left Michael's feeling happier and more relaxed than I had all week. The proverb “Every cloud has a silver lining” seemed to be true for me. My Hailey cloud had turned into more time with Michael, and that was better than a silver lining—it was golden.

Mom and Allie were sitting at the kitchen table when I got home.

I was still smiling goofily when I joined them at the table.

“Productive meeting?” Mom asked.

“Very,” I replied. “We wrote a poll that we're going to use for part of our article, and we're going to use the results as part of the article.”

“Didn't you do that before?” Allie asked.

“We did, and it worked really well,” I said. “So why mess with a good thing?”

“Speaking about messing with a good thing,” Mom segued, “what is going on with Hailey?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, pretending to be oblivious.

“I ran into her mom when I went out to the
supermarket to pick up a chicken for dinner,” Mom said. “She said Hailey's been just devastated by your fight and the hurtful things that you said.”

“The hurtful things
I
said?” I snorted. “She keeps forgetting about the hurtful things
she
said. She just wants me to look like the bad guy.”

“That happens a lot when good friends fight,” Mom said. “It can be worse than a fight with a stranger, because friends know what's important to you, so they really know how to hurt you.”

“Well, if that's what Hailey was going for, she definitely succeeded,” I said. “She knows how important the
Voice
is to me, and she doesn't even care. Her Green Team is more important to her now than her best friend.”

“Yes, her mother filled me in about her plan to try to put the paper online. Are you sure you aren't being overly sensitive, Sam?” Mom asked. “You and Hailey have been so close for so long. Do you really think it's worth giving up over something that's happening at school?”

“It's not just something that's happening at school,” I said. “Hailey could have chosen a
different Green Team topic. She didn't have to choose the newspaper. And she didn't even tell me first! She ignored me for a week and then announced it at the meeting! I don't know why she wanted to hurt me. I didn't do anything to her.”

“I don't know the answer either, Sam,” Mom said. “And I'm sorry I've been too busy to notice how you've been feeling. I just want you to know that I'm here if you want to talk about it.”

“I'd rather not right now,” I admitted. “I was kind of happy for a moment. You know the feeling, right, Mom? Like when you'd get a note from John.”

“WHO'S JOHN?” Allie squealed.

My diversionary tactic worked. We spent the rest of dinner talking about Mom's love life and the letters I had found. Allie made Mom pull out the hatbox again, and we had a fun time teasing her about the romantic things her sweetheart John had written to her. I almost forgot about Hailey for the moment.

That's when I made my decision. I would purposefully forget about Hailey. I would forget that
we were ever best friends. I would put the
Voice
and my commitment to unbiased reporting first. Hailey was just the vice president of the student government who had an idea for turning the paper into a digital edition.

It's easy enough to make those kinds of decisions when you're sitting alone in your room. It's a little harder when you're face-to-face with your “never-was-your-best-friend.”

I was hoping that Michael would be waiting by my locker the next morning, but he wasn't. Hailey was. I was so surprised I honestly didn't know how to act.

“Sam,” Hailey said in way she had never said my name before.