Black and White and Gray All Over (4 page)

Michael looked at me, then back at Kate. “I guess so,” he said. “Sorry, Sam.”

He never calls me Sam. This was not good. Not good at all. I cast around for a way to salvage our outing, but my brain wasn't working fast enough.

“Okay. Bye,” I said. But I purposely didn't say “good luck,” because I didn't wish them any. I hated Michael right then. I closed the door after myself and slouched toward my locker. As I drew near, I spied Hailey up ahead, loading her things into her backpack. Thank goodness! I nearly ran the final thirty yards.

“Hails!” I called. “Want to go interview subjects with me?”

“Hey! No, sorry. I can't! Jenna and I have to go do our watercolor homework. We're supposed to go out in nature and paint something alive. Cool, right?”

“Can't you do that any old time?” I asked, sighing loudly. I knew I was being spoiled and pouty, but I needed her right then.

“No, because we want to go together, and it's the only day we both have free before the next class. By the way, the class was great. Thanks for asking.” She shut her locker and lifted her backpack onto one shoulder.

“Sorry,” I said, wincing at my forgetfulness. “How was it?”

“Great! And guess what? I'm really good at it!”

I couldn't help but be annoyed at Hailey for bragging after she'd harshed on me for it only days earlier. “Oh, who's bragging now?” I asked, but I used a joking voice.

Hailey grinned, taking it good-naturedly. “I know. I know. But the thing is, it feels so
good
to be good at something. I mean, besides soccer, but I've been playing that since I was a baby practically. This is something new. With school being so hard for me, I'm just not used to having something come so easily. I guess watercolors for me are like writing for you. We're just naturally very talented at it!”

I felt a little insulted. “Writing doesn't come that easily for me, though. I mean, I do work really hard at it.”

“I know you do, but you also enjoy that part of it. I work hard at soccer, too. And I work hard at painting, but it comes easily at the same time.”

I knew I had to be happy for Hailey. I rose above my irritation for a minute and did the right thing. “That's great,” I said. “Make a picture for
me next. Something good, okay?”

Hailey grinned and hugged me sideways. “Thanks! I will. You'll love it. I promise.”

Jenna came up and we said hi, and then with a pang, I watched them walk off together. Jenna and Hailey. Michael and Miss Big. I pulled my clipboard out of my locker, snagged a pen from my messenger bag, and went to interview kids outside school about the idea of uniforms.

It's funny, but even though I'm naturally kind of shy, when I'm reporting for an article, I'm not shy at all. It's like I have the
Cherry Valley Voice
to hide behind, so it's not really me who's doing the interviewing and stuff; I'm just the mouthpiece for the paper. It gives me courage.

Like, normally I wouldn't approach kids I don't know outside school, but today it was no problem. I pinned on this big press badge that Mr. Trigg had given me at one point, and I was good to go. Then, with my pen in hand, I stopped kids and asked them questions I'd come up with during math class when I was supposed to be listening to the teacher. They were:

• How would you feel if our school adopted uniforms?

• If you are for it or wouldn't mind, what kind would you like to have?

• If you are against it, why?

• Do you have any other comments you'd like to add?

Kids were pretty willing to speak out on the subject, and the interesting thing was that most of the girls were for it and the boys were against it. I asked one really popular girl, Della Pollen, and she thought it would be a good idea because then she wouldn't have to worry about what to wear in the mornings. Another girl, Trina Jones, said if we had uniforms then she could save money or spend it on other things instead of trying to buy trendy clothes for school. Two girls who were dressed really cool said they'd hate uniforms, and I could easily see why, though one pointed out that if we had a uniform she'd never be late again, since it wouldn't take so long to get dressed in the morning! This was turning out to be a surprising assignment.

A quiet girl named Pam from my language arts class said it would be a good equalizer, so the nerdy and the cool and the kids who spent a lot and those who couldn't would all look the same and we could judge people on themselves rather than their clothes. I thought that was a really good answer, but she didn't want her quote to be used for attribution, which in reporter-speak means I could use it but not say who said it.

The girls who were “for” uniforms all thought a plain skirt maybe in gray flannel material plus a solid-colored polo shirt or blouse on top would be just right, with some footwear restrictions but not requirements.

But the boys I interviewed were
not
into the idea of uniforms at all. Tommy Sheehan felt that the boy uniform options were dorky—ties, flannel pants, blazers, and button-down shirts were not appealing at all. Santi Diaz said that boy uniforms looked uncomfortable and like they'd restrict his movements. Kevin Kurtz didn't like the idea of being told what to wear because it was unconstitutional and threatened his freedom of expression.
I put a star next to his answer; I thought that was a really good point.

Other people I talked with told little anecdotes about their cousins who had to wear uniforms or friends they knew at private or parochial schools who had them. Some kids swore the uniform wearers hated it; others said for sure they loved it. It seemed kind of evenly split. I made a mental note to have Hailey help me do a poll on Buddybook to get a broader idea of what people thought. (I hate Buddybook because I think it's a time suck, but it's good for stuff like this. That's why I don't have my own account anymore. I just use Hailey's or Michael's if I need it for research.) In all, I'd interviewed about fifteen kids, pretty evenly split between boys and girls, and I had some good points. I sat on the wall by the bike rack and cleaned up my messy notes so I could make sure I got the quotations right. A bunch of kids were still milling around, getting their bikes out of the rack. I was waiting to see if maybe some more kids would come by when I saw Michael and Kate walk out together. I felt my stomach
drop when I saw them, but they couldn't really see me, since I was behind them and hidden by the bustle of the bike rack.

Please don't let them leave together,
I hoped silently.
Please!

As I watched them intently, two girls unlocking their bikes in front of me saw them too.

One of them said, “Michael Lawrence has a new girlfriend. Bummer.”

The other said, “New? Who was the old one?”

“Oh, I think that girl from the paper he's always with.”

I held my breath and turned my face away so they wouldn't see me. My cheeks were flushed deep red, and I strained to catch every word they said.

The second girl said, “No, she's not his girlfriend. I know they write together a lot. Maybe she's, like, his best friend.”

“Sure looked like a girlfriend to me!”

“Well, I don't know about her, but I think
this
one is for sure,” said the second girl.

“Why?”

“Just . . . I've seen them together a few different times this week.”

“Well, were they acting all lovey-dovey or what?” said the first girl, exasperated.

“No.”

“You think every time you see a boy and a girl together that they're dating. But boys and girls can be just friends, you know,” huffed the first girl.

And they hopped on their bikes and left.

I wanted to throw up. I hardly dared turn around because I did not want to see Michael Lawrence, love of my life, stroll off with Kate Bigley. It wasn't that he didn't have the right to. I mean, we'd never dated or anything, and I'd certainly never declared my love to him, which I suddenly regretted.

Inch by inch I turned my head until I could see them. And then I let out a huge sigh of relief. Michael was heading home and Kate Bigley was walking away in the opposite direction. Thank goodness!
Journalist Gets Reprieve for One More Day!
I had to stop my imagination from running wild.

Things were not going my way. I needed some advice, and there was only one place to turn.

Allie and I were eating our pizza at the kitchen table when my mom swept in looking really pretty and smelling like her fancy perfume. She kissed us sideways so she wouldn't get lipstick on us, and she cautioned us to finish our homework and not fool around just because she was going to her book club. And then she was gone and Allie returned to her lecture.

“See, part of the problem is you've gotten lazy. You're used to letting Mr. Trigg do all the work for you, assigning you articles together and whatnot,” she was saying. She peeled a piece of pepperoni off her slice and dangled it into her mouth.

“Gross,” I said, and she shrugged and ate it.

“Yes, it's all Trigger's fault,” I said, fake mad.

“That sexist!” joked Allie.

But I was serious now. “Do you think he is?” I asked.

Allie nodded, chewing her pizza. “I think what he said was,” she said, swallowing. “And you should call him on it. I mean, he's not as bad as that old boss of Mom's, but he might get worse. You should nip it in the bud.”

“Like, I should go talk to him?” The idea made me nervous. Sure, I've talked to Trigger about tons of stuff before, but accusing him of being sexist seemed pretty heavy.

“Yeah. It doesn't have to be a big deal. Just tell him he insulted you and that you hope in the future he'll be careful to keep his comments and assignments as unbiased and gender neutral as the
Cherry Valley Voice
tries to be.”

I had to admire Allie's way with words. It didn't sound confrontational that way. “Very well put, Allie Cat!”

“Not everything has to be made into a federal case, as long as you get your point across.”

“True. I want to keep getting articles from him anyway, so he can't be my enemy. Just no more fashion stuff!”

“Right. And lots more coauthorship with Michael.” She laughed. “By the way, I don't think uniforms would be the worst thing in the world,” Allie added as she sat back down at the table.

“You don't?!” I was surprised, to say the least. Allie is so fashion conscious, I thought she would have come down on the side of freedom of expression in this case.

“No. Sometimes there's too much focus on what to wear or who is wearing what, and with a uniform you could concentrate more on school, without the distraction. Just keep it simple.”

“So you're saying people might do better in school if they didn't have to worry about their clothes?”

“Maybe not to that extreme, but there'd definitely be more time in the morning if I didn't have to go make sure my shoes matched my outfit, I had the right accessories, and I was wearing the latest trend. You know, things like that.”

“Interesting, especially coming from you!” I said. “I would have thought you'd be anti-uniform.”

Allie laughed. “Never presume to know what a girl thinks until you've walked a mile in her stilettos. Remember that!”

“Oh boy,” I said, rolling my eyes. “So what should I do about Michael?”

Allie tilted her head and thought. “You said you haven't seen much of him, right?”

I nodded.

“You said he looked frustrated when you saw him in the office because Kate had dumped the work on him?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You said they didn't walk off together after school?”

“Yes!” I sighed dramatically.

Allie tapped her chin, thinking. “Okay. Do nothing.”