30 Days of No Gossip (7 page)

The first thing I noticed was that Mr. Shelly was nowhere to be found. His chair was empty. The second thing I noticed was that there was someone in the chair normally occupied by kids like me, who’d been caught texting in class.

“I know you,” the woman in the chair said. She stood and turned to face me. “You’re that girl from Saturday.”

I remembered the woman too. It was Miss Hollywood, the girl who had been standing in front of the school Saturday morning. It looked like she’d found Mr. Shelly after all.

“Is Mr. Shelly around?” I asked, looking around nervously. I don’t know why she made me feel so uncomfortable. I think it had something to do with how expensive her clothes looked.

“He’ll be right back,” Miss Hollywood said. “You can sit down here.”

“I can just wait outside,” I offered. “I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you first.”

Which meant I’d miss the beginning of lunch period. Which stank.

“No, seriously,” she said. “I’m here to observe.”

She moved to her chair, gesturing to the empty one next to her. I eyed her cautiously as I moved around the chair and sat down, settling my books on top of my lap and looking at Mr. Shelly’s empty chair. I wondered how long it would take him to show up.

“What are you observing?” I asked. I figured if I was the one being observed, I at least deserved to know that much.

She didn’t see it that way, I guess. “Just . . . things,” she said mysteriously. “I can’t really say.”

We both stared forward for a minute. Did I have the right to say I didn’t want to be observed? Maybe I could make a deal that I would come back after lunch.

Mr. Shelly broke the silence by barreling through the door and around his desk. He was in such a rush, he didn’t even see me until he was already seated.

“Oh.” He looked from me to Miss Hollywood. Observation number one: Mr. Shelly had no idea who any of his students were. Except maybe the ones who were always in trouble. I was proud to say I wasn’t one of those students.

“We have company,” Miss Hollywood said. “This lovely young lady . . .” She gestured toward me. She wanted me to say my name. Because she’d called me a “lovely young lady,” I said it.

“Maddie Evans,” I said.

Mr. Shelly made a thoughtful face. He was trying to place my name, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t succeed. I edited and wrote the
Troy Tattler
, but my name wasn’t actually on it. Sure, my friends knew it was me, but I didn’t know if the teachers and principal knew about it. I hoped not. If they did, they might have shut it down.

“Well, Miss Evans, Miss Golden and I are in the middle of something, so if you could just wait outside . . .”

I looked over at Miss Golden. Of course that was Miss Hollywood’s name. Golden. Just like her hair, her skin, and everything about her.

“That’s okay,” Miss Golden said. “I’d love to see an interaction between you and one of your students. Go ahead.”

She flashed her dimply smile in my direction, which totally put me off track. How could I talk about being sent to the principal’s office in front of this stranger, who was watching me for some reason she couldn’t tell me?

“Maybe I could come back after lunch?” I asked, looking from Miss Golden to Mr. Shelly.

“Miss Evans, I’m really limited on time right now, so if you could just tell me why you’re here, that would be a real help,” Mr. Shelly said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Fine. I tried my best to ignore Miss Golden as I explained
everything that had happened. Leaving out, of course, the fact that I’d been gossiping about myself on my phone when I was caught with it. Unfortunately, Mr. Shelly wouldn’t leave it at that.

“You were texting in class,” Mr. Shelly accused. He looked over at Miss Golden. “This is an ongoing problem at Troy Middle School. Kids love their cell phones.”

“Sure,” Miss Golden said, nodding. “We weren’t allowed cell phones when I was in school.”

They probably didn’t have cell phones when Mr. Shelly was in school, he was so old. I noticed he didn’t comment on it.

“At Troy, we put trust in our students.” Mr. Shelly turned his pointed gaze on me. “We prefer to teach them responsible cell phone habits.”

I had responsible cell phone habits, I wanted to argue. But I didn’t really have an argument for this, since I’d been using my phone in math. I nodded. Nodding would get me out of here more quickly.

“Fascinating,” Miss Golden said. She leaned forward in her chair, her gaze fixed on Mr. Shelly. “Have you considered a cell phone area? You could even line up phone booths along the wall.”

He frowned. No surprise. The day Mr. Shelly allowed a
cell phone area in school would be the same day he lined the halls with vending machines full of junk food.

“I’m afraid that isn’t a very wise use of our budget, Miss Golden.”

“Call me Ashley,” she said. “We could line up tables along the wall with small partitions in between to block out noise. It would be a great little break area for the kids. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She was looking at me now, and I had no idea what to say. I was here to get my five-minute lecture on proper cell phone habits.

“I . . . guess.” I looked over at Mr. Shelly, who was already ready to move on to his lecture. But Miss Golden was interested in what I had to say. I was a sucker for that interested look.

“Break areas are very important,” Miss Golden said, nodding as if confirming her own idea was great. “Kids need break areas. What else would you like to see?”

Wow. This was it. My chance to speak up for the entire seventh grade. It wasn’t gossiping, so I could still make a difference without breaking my promise to Vi.

“Maybe it could be used for other things,” I blurted, thinking as I spoke. “There could be charging stations if people need them, and if someone has an emergency or
is talking to their parents, they could take phone calls there.”

I could see Mr. Shelly wasn’t happy. He wouldn’t go along with this, no matter what, as long as the words “cell phone” were wrapped up in it.

“It could also be extra space for meetings,” I rushed to add. I had to get this all out in one big burst or Mr. Shelly might cut me off. Then I’d miss my chance forever. “Everyone meets right after school, and there are never good places. Nobody wants to meet in a classroom, and the gym and cafeteria are already taken. It would be cool to have a meeting place with comfortable chairs and lots of privacy.”

In the silence that followed, I could tell that Miss Golden was really considering what I’d said. I held my breath, wondering if she’d say I was a genius and this was the best idea ever and Mr. Shelly should take it to the school board right this very second.

Or maybe not. Mr. Shelly broke the silence by clearing his throat. The sound was so sudden, it made me jump.

“Miss Golden, I think it might be best if Miss Evans and I take care of our business so you and I can work on our project without interruption,” Mr. Shelly explained.

“Of course,” she said. “Go ahead.”

She sat back, waiting for us to pick up our conversation
where we had left off. Only now I didn’t remember what I was even here to do. I couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said about a break area. Was she here to somehow . . . make this school better?

But why?

“I think you’ve learned your lesson,” Mr. Shelly said. “You may go.”

“Wait,” Miss Golden called out. She was digging through her purse, from which she retrieved a pen and crumpled-up receipt. “What is your name again?”

“Maddie Evans,” I called back. I was already halfway across the room at that point, my attention firmly fixed on the door. I wanted out before Mr. Shelly changed his mind.

“I may be in touch,” Miss Golden said. Then, as I slipped through the still-open door, I heard her say, “I have a good feeling about her.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but I was smiling as I headed out of the principal’s office just in time for the end-of-class bell. At least someone had a good feeling about me.

What famous reality show producer is eyeing Troy Middle School for possible inclusion on her show? Maddie Evans has the scoop. . . . Only, she can’t tell any of you.

My fingers hesitated, poised above the keys of my laptop. I stared at the blinking cursor on my screen, biting my lip thoughtfully for a second before going back to re-review the search results in my Web browser. If I was going to pretend-write the
Troy Tattler
, I had to at least get my facts straight.

Ashley Golden was not a hard person to track down online. She was on every social networking site, plus she had an official website. Was it gossip if I was only reciting the facts I’d found on the Web?

I knew the answer to that. I knew that no matter how much I learned about that woman in Mr. Shelly’s office, I couldn’t speak—or write—a word of it to anyone.

If I could write about her, I’d tell the school that Ashley Golden’s website—which included a large, smiling photo of her with her dog, so I knew it was her—stated proudly that she was the producer of a show called
24-Hour Makeover
, a show Vi was absolutely addicted to. It was one of a billion reality shows where people came in and redesigned something, but in the case of
24-Hour Makeover
, the redesign wasn’t to a house. It was usually to a hospital or library or old, run-down tourist place.

I was no brainiac, but I could kind of figure out why
24-Hour Makeover
’s producer was hanging out with our principal so much. First of all, Troy Middle School was
about a thousand miles away from where that show normally filmed, so it wasn’t like Miss Hollywood just happened to be hanging out with our principal. Second, this was a school. As far as I knew, they hadn’t done a school yet, so it was perfect.

Oh, and did I mention this school was built in the Dark Ages and looked like something out of a TV show my grandparents would have watched?

We were totally going to be on
24-Hour Makeover
! I was dying to tell someone the news, especially Vi. She’d made me watch a billion hours of the show. A picture of its host, Jilly, was taped to her mirror. She would totally die when she found out.

I picked up the phone and started dialing Vi’s number, getting four numbers in before remembering I couldn’t call her. I put the phone back down and turned to my laptop.

As I prepared to start typing again, my phone rang. Vi? It took me a second to talk myself out of hoping it was her. Since it wasn’t her, it didn’t matter, so I answered the phone without even looking to see who it was. Instead of Vi, it was Sydney.

“Hey,” she said without waiting for me to say hello. “I have Sarah on the line. Tell her.”

“Tell her what?” I asked, returning my gaze to my monitor. Just hearing Syd’s voice made me want to start typing. I could pour all the things I couldn’t say to her into the
Troy Tattler
. It might make me feel a little better.

“About Aiden Lewis,” Sydney said. “About how he likes Sarah.”

I froze. Not good. Not good at all. Even though Vi wasn’t on the line, I could imagine her listening, not daring to move as she waited to see if I’d pass this latest test.

“You’ll have to ask Aiden about that,” I told her.

Sydney kept speaking as if I hadn’t said a word. “But last I heard, Aiden might like Emma. Kelsey likes Aiden, you know. Right, Maddie?”

I was starting to think Sydney was doing this on purpose. She was trying to get me to gossip so I’d be more like my old self. The big question was, how did I get out of this?

Sarah cleared her throat, reminding me she was on the line with us. So I did the only thing I knew to do.

“Sarah, do you like Aiden?” I asked.

There was a long silence before Sarah finally said, “I don’t know.”

“That’s all that matters,” I said. “That’s all you can control.”

“That’s pretty deep,” Sarah replied, sounding impressed.

“I think you should write about it in the
Tattler
,” Sydney suggested. There was a definite challenge in her voice. “Just get it all out in the open. That way Aiden will have to make a decision.”

“Maybe,” I said, because I had no idea what else to say. I needed out of this conversation quickly. “I was sent to the principal’s office.”

I blurted that last part out in desperation. I didn’t want them to know about my trip to Mr. Shelly’s office, but I had to say something. I knew right away that I’d made a mistake.

“What happened?” Sydney asked, her voice full of awe. There was a heavy silence in the air as they waited for me to fill them in on everything. It was something I’d gotten used to back in my gossiping days, but I wasn’t gossiping.

Was I?

I was. I had to go. Now.

“I need to do homework,” I said quickly. “Talk to you guys tomorrow.”

I hung up before they could say anything. While I was at it, I switched the phone’s ringer off too. If I didn’t do something to avoid my friends, I’d be in trouble for sure.

I returned my attention to the laptop and started typing.

Maddie Evans was sent to Mr. Shelly’s office earlier today when a spitball fight got out of control in fourth period. Maddie, a seventh grader who always has a notebook full of paper for scribbling down great gossip, is believed to be the person who started the fight after Miss Einhorn scolded her for messing up her long division.

I erased all of that and started over. This one showed my frustration.

Maddie Evans sent herself to Mr. Shelly’s office after three days of no gossip caused her to release an explosion of words in Miss Einhorn’s fourth-period math class. Maddie, a seventh grader known for her juicy stories, claims a case of temporary insanity caused her to loudly report every piece of gossip she’d heard or witnessed since Friday, when her best friend cruelly made her stop gossiping.

Usually gossip was far more interesting than the truth.

Chapter Eight