Flirting with Disaster (3 page)

Chapter 5

“Mom, Mom!” I yelled as I kicked off my shoes by the front door of our home, Kew Cottage, found at the heart of Cinnamon Street in the little village of Wexburg.

Predictably, Momlike, my mother came rushing to the door, probably alarmed at the intensity in my voice. As soon as she saw the grin on my face, her own face relaxed. “What’s up, Savvy?”

My sister and her dog, Growl, came running around the corner. I flopped onto the couch, which the Brits call a lounge, and Growl, whose real name was Giggle, barked at me to let me know he was not amused by this false alarm, then retreated to his pillow.

“Tommy asked me to watch his game on Saturday and to grab something to eat with a bunch of them after the game. Including Penny,” I added to ensure that she’d say yes. Mom loved Penny.

Mom smiled. “Okay,” she said.

“And I’m going to write an article for the paper with my own byline by the end of the school year.”

“Great!” my sister, Louanne, said, her strawberry blonde French braid coming loose from the form I’d put it in before school.

“And Monique and I are partners for the French project.”

“Bark!” Growl said. I reached over and patted his head. I was feeling mighty magnanimous. After a bit I got up off the couch, fixed a bowl of Weetabix for myself, and went upstairs to do my homework. All of this good stuff because I’d forwarded one little text!

Later that night I sorted through the questions that had been submitted for the Asking for Trouble column. I had to have it submitted to Jack by tonight so it would be ready for Thursday’s edition of the paper. Normally I looked up a Bible verse that was the silent backbone of every answer I wrote for the paper. It was important to me that my answers be based on the Truth. Tonight I didn’t even
need
to look up a Scripture that I would base my answer on. I knew this one by heart.

God works in mysterious ways.

Just like every other lesson God let me share with people, I’d had to learn this one for myself first. And if those text forwards weren’t mysterious ways that God was working in my life, well, then I didn’t know what they were.

I quickly tapped out my answer, e-mailed it to Jack, and went to bed. No restless sleep at all; I slept like a proverbial baby.

The next morning as I headed toward my first-period class, I noticed Natalie coming down the hall. It was clear we were not going to be able to avoid each other. I made a stone of my face and prepared myself to deflect her stiff hello.

“Hey, Savvy!” she said, warmth suffusing her face. “How are you?”

I practically fell over. I was, quite literally, struck dumb. Was this the same girl who had given me the chill two days ago in the newspaper staff meeting and who had stuck me with taking photos at the May Day Ball so she could go with my date?

“Fine,” I answered warily.

“Okay. Well, have a great day,” she said with a power-watt smile before breezing on down the hall.

As I walked into maths class, I saw that I wasn’t the only one shocked at Natalie’s transformation. Hazelle stared at Natalie and then looked at me. Then she grimaced.

Chapter 6

Every Thursday I showed up at school early to pack my designer bag with copies of the Wexburg Academy
Times
to deliver around campus. If it was an Asking for Trouble week, I’d stop to privately read my own column. I read everyone else’s, of course, but my own first. I was pretty sure that’s what we all did.

Alex helped me cram my green bag, the one Penny had scored for me at the Peter Chen photo shoot, and then I prepared to go distribute.

“Savvy, wait a moment,” Jack called as he saw me heading for the door. “I have a brief announcement to make.” Everyone turned to focus on him.

“This will be quick,” he said. “I wanted to make sure everyone knows we have a new candidate for editor. Hazelle is running, as many of you expected. And Rodney still has his name in the ring. But the other day Natalie approached me and reminded me that while she hasn’t been here all of this year, she was on staff for the full year the year before. She’d like to put her name in the contest, and as she qualifies, I agreed. The vote will be held in approximately one month. I’ll keep you updated as necessary.”

With that, he turned back to his work. Hazelle’s face had gone so white that her freckles bloomed. Natalie looked self-satisfied, like she’d just been grooming her paws and sharpening her nails at the same time. She grinned warmly at me, and I forced a smile back.

I went to deliver the papers, and afterward I sat down on a bench outside the office to read my secret column.

Dear Asking for Trouble,

One of my friends just started a business selling jewelry that she makes. She wants me to have a party and invite all my other friends over to look at the jewelry and maybe buy some. I guess it’s a good idea, but part of me feels nervous because my friends might feel pressure to purchase things they really don’t want just because I invited them. But on the other hand, the jewelry is really cute. What should I do? The whole situation is starting to feel less like a party and more like a choker chain. Help!

Signed,

Rings Are Not My Thing

Dear Ring,

I totally understand your situation. No one likes to use her friends, but everyone wants to share good things. Why don’t you just send out the invitations? I mean, sending something out can’t hurt, right? No pressure attached. Then if they want to come, they can show up; if they don’t, you don’t need to feel bad and neither does your jewelry-making friend. Who knows? Maybe your friends will find some really great accessories that they’ve been wanting and your other friend will make some money. Everyone will end up happy! Things definitely happen in mysterious ways.

My pearl of wisdom . . .

Asking for Trouble

I closed the paper, satisfied that I’d offered good advice.

Just as I stood up, ready to make my way to first period, I sensed someone behind me. I turned to see who it was. Natalie.

“Hullo, Savvy.”

“Hi,” I said. Frankly, she this starting to feel a little stalkerish. At least Rhys was nowhere near.

“Reading this week’s edition?”

I nodded.

“It’s a good paper. But it’s missing a little . . . spiritual dimension, don’t you think? I mean, spirituality is such a big part of many people’s lives. Including my own.”

I’d once read that the face has like forty-three muscles. I was working really hard to keep all of them from displaying my complete disbelief. Wasn’t this the person who, last month, had rudely brushed off anything that had a hint of religion? But I only said, “I agree completely.”

“Good.” The first bell rang, warning us that we had a brief three minutes to get to class. “I have just the person in mind to write a column like that . . . if I become the new editor, that is.” She formed her forty-three facial muscles into a smile and headed to class.