Agents of the Glass (6 page)

*
Mrs. Jellyby is a character in Charles Dickens's novel
Bleak House.
While she devotes nearly all her time and energy to charitable work for an obscure tribe in Africa, her own family and home suffer from neglect.

Andy's first day at Wellbourne was much like the first day at any school. The classes were smaller, with most having only fifteen or so students, and teachers, he noted, were especially fond of the word
expectations.
A
very
big deal was made about the school's honor code. Before turning in any work, all upper school students were required to write the following statement across the top of the paper, followed by their signature:
On my honor as a Wellbourne student, I have neither given nor received aid on this assignment or examination.

As he moved from class to class, Andy wrote the pledge across the front of each of his notebooks. He had never really thought about cheating on a test or copying homework, probably because he had never needed to. School had always been easy for him—too easy, at times—but all that was about to change.

When the final period ended (there are no bells at Wellbourne, another difference), he went to his locker to drop off his books before heading down to the Broadcast Club meeting in the basement. Winter was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

“So…how did the afternoon go? You just came from Ms. Albemarle's class, right? What did you think? Pretty great, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess. She seems okay….Gave us a lot of homework, though.” He pointed to his planner, where he had written down the assignment. “I have to read this story online tonight, from some magazine or newspaper. It's, like, twenty pages, and we have a quiz on it
tomorrow.
”

“That sounds like her, all right. She doesn't waste a minute. Don't freak out about the quiz; it won't be hard. She just wants to make sure you're doing the reading.” She peered over his shoulder to see what he'd written. “Oh, right. I remember that one from last year. It's about Joshua Bell playing violin in the subway. He's one of the best violinists in the world, and he…Well, you'll see. Everything else go okay?” Suddenly, she turned serious, asking, “You didn't forget about the meeting, did you?”

“No, I was on my way there, really.”

Winter laughed. “I'm just messing with you. Don't worry, you'll get used to me.” Then she did something Andy
really
wasn't expecting. She took him by the hand and started leading him down the hall, her fast walk quickly turning into an out-and-out run for the staircase. “Come on, we have to hurry. If we're late, we won't get a seat.”

When they arrived at the broadcast room in the basement, they found a sign on the door directing them to a classroom on the first floor, so they turned around and ran back up the stairs. Winter laughed as Andy wriggled free of her grip before they entered the room.

“Oops. Sorry, I didn't mean to weird you out. I do that to all my friends. I don't mean anything by it. Sometimes, I don't even realize I'm doing it. My friend Katelyn says I'm a control freak. You're not, are you?”

“A control freak?”

Winter giggled. “No, weirded out.”

“I'm all right,” said Andy.

“Phew! That was a close call. Not good, Winter,” she said, shaking her head. “Make the new kid uncomfortable on his first day at Wellbourne.”

Andy grinned at her, his first real smile of the day. She had been really nice, after all, and on top of that, she was pretty. “It's cool, really.”

She pointed to two empty desks in the front of the room but let him lead the way.

After welcoming members old and new, Ms. Helen Albemarle got the meeting off to a raucous start with a major announcement about the future of the Wellbourne Broadcast Club.

“I have some very exciting news. Wellbourne is about to take a giant leap forward into the world of twenty-first- century broadcasting. Over the summer, I approached a number of television stations in town in an attempt to develop a
real
partnership—one that would improve and expand our skills, certainly, but also one that would give us actual exposure on a local and, possibly, a national scale. I met with people from all the big networks, but right from the start, it was clear to me what the best choice for Wellbourne would be. Today, I'm proud to announce our partnership with the news division of NTRP.”

A few kids, Winter included, clapped and cheered, but the focus soon switched from Ms. Albemarle to a lone black girl in the back of the room, leaning against the wall, her arms folded in defiance. All of the other kids' uniforms were first-day-of-school creased and crisp, but hers hung limply from her square shoulders. Wrapped around her neck was a decidedly unofficial scarf, its bright green-and-yellow plaid clashing violently with her school blazer. Andy guessed that she was a junior or senior.

“No. No, no,
no
!” she said. “Ms. Albemarle, you can't be serious.
NTRP?
I thought we were supposed to be all about journalism—being
objective
and all that. Does anyone at NTRP even know what that word
means
?”

“Here we go again,” said a boy in the front row. “Why don't you just quit, Jensen?”

“Why don't you go—”

“Stop!” cried Ms. Albemarle. “For once,
don't
say what you're thinking, Jensen.”

“Perhaps I can answer her question,” a woman announced in a clear, authoritative voice. She was sitting in a back corner, where she had gone unnoticed.

As everyone else in the room turned to see who had spoken, Ms. Albemarle said, “Come on up, Deanna. Time to face the enemy. Everyone, say hi to Deanna Decameron. She's the executive producer of the
NewsNight
program at NTRP, and she has
generously
offered a few hours of her valuable time each week to help us out.”

Winter leaned over to whisper to Andy as she applauded enthusiastically. “I
love
her. She's the youngest EP—that's executive producer—at NTRP. My dad says that she'll probably be president of the network before she's thirty.”

The girl at the back of the room who had objected so loudly to the NTRP announcement was
not
impressed, Andy noticed. Her arms remained folded across her chest, her eyes narrowed, her jaw firmly set. When he turned to look at her, she glared at him, and he quickly turned around.

“I understand that not everyone is thrilled by my presence here at Wellbourne,” said Deanna Decameron, “but I want you to know that
I
am quite excited to be here.” She looked right at the girl with the crossed arms. “Contrary to what you may have heard, the news division at NTRP
is
committed to objective journalism, Miss—”

“Huntley. Jensen Huntley,” said the girl.

Decameron's lips turned upward in the slightest indication of recognition. “Ah, of course. I've read some of your work. Very…
creative.
Well, Miss Huntley, I look forward to working with you and, I hope, changing your mind about us.”

“I wouldn't count on it,” said Jensen. “I've seen what your network calls ‘quality programming.' There's nothing you can say to me that could justify the existence of a program like
How Far Will You Go? 
”

Ms. Albemarle stepped forward again, hand raised in a peacemaking gesture. “All right, Jensen. You've made your point. We get it. You're not a fan. If you're going to continue in your position in the club, you're going to have to learn to deal with it.”

“But, Ms. Albemarle, I—”

“We can talk about it
later.
Now, everyone, I have more exciting news. Ms. Decameron's decision to assist our club is only half the story. Starting tomorrow, Wellbourne is going to be part of something
revolutionary—
a glimpse into the future of education. Deanna, would you like to tell them about it?”

“I'd be happy to,” said Decameron, standing confidently in the center of the room, seemingly unfazed by Jensen's hostility. “First, let me back up a bit and reiterate how pleased I am to be joining you for the next ten months. Ms. Albemarle showed me some tapes of your broadcasts from last year, and I have to say that I am
most
impressed. You have done some fantastic work, and I congratulate you all. But now on to new business. Starting soon, you will be watching a new program that is being produced by NTRP especially for
you.
Three times a day, for nine minutes at a time, you will see in-depth reporting of world, national, and local news. We call it NED—that's NTRP Education—and each segment will consist of new material and will be presented in exciting ways. You will have the opportunity to send questions to the reporters, with the best questions to be answered during the next broadcast. So, what do you think? Pretty exciting, isn't it? Anyone have any questions?”

Andy sneaked another look back at Jensen, whose hand was already in the air. “What is her problem?” he whispered to Winter.

“Crazy,” said Winter, leaning close to him. “Really intense. Thinks everything is some big conspiracy. Last year, she freaked out because Ms. Albemarle cut two sentences from her review of
Take That,
which is, like, the funniest show on TV.”

“Yes? Jensen?” said Decameron. “You have a question. How…
surprising.
”

Everyone except Jensen snickered. “Twenty-seven minutes. By my calculation, that's almost
seven
percent of the school day. Is that time really going to help me get into an Ivy League college? Or would I be better off listening to my teachers? And how many commercials will I have to sit through, or promotions for those so-called reality shows on your network?” she asked. “What kinds of products will be advertised? And who makes those decisions? Do students get any say in what—”

“Give her a chance,” said Ms. Albemarle.

Still smiling, Decameron nodded at Jensen. “That's a fair question.
Questions,
actually. While a certain amount of time in each segment will be appropriated for sponsored material, the total will be considerably less than you'd see if you were watching at home. As for the types of products, I can assure you that someone from Wellbourne will have a say in those decisions. We have many, many advertisers eager to have you get to know them. Most will be offering incentives—coupons, for example—to both students and teachers, as a kind of trade-off.”

Jensen tried to ask more questions, but she finally gave up when Ms. Albemarle reminded her that she was not the only person in the club.

“Maybe not,” she said. “But I appear to be the only one with a spine.”

“Oh, boy,” said Winter, leaning closer to Andy. “Here we go again.”

Ms. Albemarle ended the meeting with a reminder that reporters should have story ideas ready for Friday's meeting. “Our first broadcast is coming up fast, and we have lots to do in the meantime. Auditions for the anchor position are in three weeks, if you're interested. You should prepare a short news story to read on camera for us.”

Winter bounced up and down in her seat. “I
have
to get that job,” she told her friends Natalie and Megan, who ran up to see her as soon as the meeting ended. “You guys, this is Andy. He's new. I'm his SA. Be nice to him.”

Winter said it with a smile, but both girls seemed to know that it wasn't said entirely in fun. She meant it. When they got their first good look at the boy-band-cute Andy, however, it was also clear that Winter had nothing to worry about. They immediately began trying to out-charm each other.

“Do you want to be a reporter?” Natalie asked, her eyes sparkling, her voice bubbling.

“Not really,” Andy admitted. “Actually, I'm not sure what I want to do.”

“Well, whatever you do, don't get stuck working for one of the high school kids. They're
brutal,
” said Natalie.

Megan nodded in agreement. “Yeah, they make you do all the work, and they take the credit. Except for that girl Jensen. She's insane. No, really! Last year, I got stuck on her story about the local pizza shops, and she wouldn't let me do
anything.
One place got a B grade from the health inspector, and she was so
mean
to the guy. I'm
still
afraid to go in there. She said I wasn't ‘serious enough' to work with her. I think I wasn't
crazy
enough.”