Front Page Face-Off (10 page)

I swung out of bed Friday morning and headed to the kitchen with an extra bounce of confidence. In one night I'd made Ava jealous, secured Katie's confidence, and gotten a date for the Debutante social. On top of
that
,
I had a great story for the first edition that wouldn't involve frogs or garbage-
eating students.

As long as Marcus came through on his offer, of course.

“You're in good spirits.” Major pushed a plate of breakfast in front of me. “Did you resolve that issue with the French girl?”

I smiled and downed a forkful of
egg. “Nope. She's actually grown to loathe me.” I beamed. “Apparently,
I've
become a threat to
her
.”

“Well, that's outstanding!” Major clapped me on the shoulder. “Not the loathing part, of course, but it's nice to see you holding your own.” He settled into the chair opposite mine. “Did you learn all about her, like I suggested?”

“Well, not
all
about her.” I drank some orange juice. “Enough.”

“Which is … ?”

I shrugged. “Her awards, where she's from … stuff like that.”

Major folded his arms in front of him. “Delilah, that's
not
enough. If she takes the newspaper as seriously as you do
and
she now considers you a threat, you could be looking at all-out warfare.”

I rolled my eyes. “This isn't the military, Major. Don't be so dramatic.”

“I'm serious. You may not be talking tanks and ICBMs, but if she dislikes you as much as you think, she'll try to keep you from your objective.”

I remembered Ava's threat to me on the beach and laughed. “You mean she'll try to make my life …
impossible
?”

“If there's one thing I've learned from taking care of an almost-teenage girl”—Major pushed himself up from the chair—“it's that they're very fond of the word ‘impossible.'”

***

My first task of the day was chatting up Katie to see if she was ready to spill all her deepest, darkest secrets. I dropped my books at my locker and avoided the menacing sneer of Renee Mercer, who was trying to hide her linebacker body behind a foot-wide pole.

Summoning my best smile, I walked confidently up to Katie and her entourage.

“Hey, Katie!” I nodded to the others. “Girls.”

An uncomfortable silence followed, and I felt a momentary déjà vu as Katie lifted her gaze slightly in my direction before continuing to talk to her friends.

On the off-chance that she'd already forgotten who I was, I said, “I'm Delilah James. We talked last night about me interviewing you for the paper?”

A gum-cracking girl with a poodle perm nudged one of my shoulders with her fingertips, pushing me away. “We
all
know who you are, and you're not welcome here.” She gestured to the space surrounding her.

I ignored the girl and maneuvered closer to Katie. “Sorry. Did I miss something important while I was sleeping?”

Katie snapped her fingers and Poodle Perm thrust a newspaper in my face. I recognized it as the piece I'd written on the Little Debbies.

“Okay,” I said, “but we already talked about this, remember? I'm not writing another piece like this about
you
.”

Katie glowered at me. “Save it, Nosy Newsie. Ava told me what you're up to.”

My vocabulary suddenly became a caveman's. “Wha … uh …”

Ava had ratted me out. The Little Debbies hadn't said the pledge tasks were top secret, but I'd assumed everyone would keep quiet on an honor system. Still, I had to respond to the accusation, so I opted for the time-honored reply of all guilty parties.

“What are you talking about?”

The girls of Hot Stuff snorted like a herd of angry bulls.

“You want to be one of
them
.” Poodle Perm jabbed at the Little Debbies article. “And they want you to make us look bad.”

I didn't know what to say. From the looks on their faces, Hot Stuff already knew what they wanted to believe. The best I could do was offer up a smile to Katie and say, “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

“I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.” Katie smirked, and Hot Stuff laughed rudely.

There was nothing left for me to do but walk away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I found Jenner at her locker and mimed bashing my head with the door.

“You know, it's more effective if you actually
let
it hit you,” she said, smiling.

“I can't believe she did this!” I blurted.

“Who?” Jenner tossed her lunch bag into her locker. “Paige, Ava, or Katie?”

“Ava! Last night she threatened to ruin my life if I talked to Ben, and this morning she tells Katie and the Hot Stuff about my pledge task to destroy them!”

My phone buzzed in my backpack, and I flipped it open to read a text message.

You've been compromised. Paige

“How does she find out these things so fast?” I snapped it shut.

“Who?” Jenner closed her locker door. “Paige, Ava, or Katie?”

“Paige! It's like she has cameras all over the school.” I glanced at the ceiling suspiciously. “And I haven't even talked to Ben again! She completely jumped the gun.”

Jenner groaned and shook me by the shoulders. “
Who
? Paige, Ava, or Katie?”

“Ava!” I could have kicked myself for laughing off the warnings. Instead, I kicked the floor.

“Look, go talk to the Angels and tell them what Ava's up to,” said Jenner. “Give her a taste of her own medicine.”

“No, I can't copy her. That's weak.” I jerked the Little
Debbies whistle out from under my shirt and waved it at Jenner. “But I could blow on this!”

“And how could the Little Debbies possibly help in this situation?” Jenner crossed her arms. “Other than telling you to stop frowning or you'll get wrinkles.”

“Maybe when they learn she's being underhanded, they'll automatically disqualify her!” My eyes brightened as I hammered out a text to Paige. “Then I'll get the clique spot, all the best articles, and the lead reporter position,
and
Ben will realize what a mistake he's making with Ava!”

“Stop!” Jenner smacked me on the forehead and snatched away the phone. “You are one step away from being fitted for a straitjacket.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “You're right. I've got to stay calm.”

“And you've got to quit focusing on
yourself
and congratu-
late your best friend.”

I opened my eyes. “For what?”

Jenner bounced up and down, a huge grin on her face. “I got invited to a surf competition in Malibu!” She produced a letter from her pocket that opened with “Congratulations!”

“Jenner!” I took the letter and hugged her. “How awesome. Did you just get this?”

She nodded. “Last night. After you left, this older guy came up to me while I was rinsing off my board. At first,
I thought he might be holding a knife so he could cut off my fingers and wear them around his neck, because he looked kind of crazy”—she took a breath—“but then as he got closer, I recognized him as the guy who owns Big Stick surfboards. He started talking to me and said he'd never seen a girl do so well in the boys' league.”

“You were in the boys' league?” I squeaked. “That is beyond amazing!”

“Thank you.” She bowed at the waist. “Anyway, he's one of the main sponsors for this invitation-only competition, and he got me into the junior division, so not this weekend but next, I'm going to be hanging with the big dogs in Malibu-u!” She sang the last words and did an impromptu dance.

“You know …” I chewed my lip thoughtfully. “That could make a great story for the newspaper. Students who break gender and age boundaries to compete in sports.” I pointed at her. “You could be my feature interview.”

She waved me away modestly. “No.”

“Yes!” I snapped my fingers. “I'm going to pitch both the Marcus article and your article to run next Monday.” I smiled and gazed into the distance.

Ava would have one vague piece about a shoplifter she couldn't even identify, while I'd be showcasing girls in a positive light
and
following up on the open-ended story of the Swirlie Bandit's fall from power.

“It's all coming together,” I murmured.

Jenner stared blankly at me. “Did I not smack you hard enough? You've got a crazy look in your eye again.”

“I'm fine,” I said.

But I was more than fine. Taking Marcus to the Debutante social was a good scheme, but an even grander scheme was waiting for my execution, and I had precious little time.

“I'll see you in journalism,” I told her, smiling. “And bring your own popcorn. It's going to be quite a show.”

By the time I'd reached the journalism room, everyone was seated and watching Ben write on the dry erase board. Jenner pulled her book bag out of a chair next to her.

“I expected you to come in juggling poodles. Where's the show?”

I grinned and held up a page I'd ripped from my spiral notepad. “It's a seven-man show.”

Jenner regarded me curiously, but I folded my hands in my lap and leaned back in my chair, staring at Ava.

When she noticed me, she smiled, catlike, and stretched her arms luxuriously in front of her, cracking her fingers at the finish. I smiled back and added a little wink.

Instantly Ava frowned, eyebrows furrowing and hands slinking back so she could drum her fingertips against her
chin. It wasn't often that I got the chance to unnerve someone, but when I did, it felt like Christmas.

Ben turned to face the room. “Okay, here's what we have lined up for next week.” He tapped the board. “Any last-minute suggestions?”

I raised my hand. “I'm dropping my article on desperate dating”—several people giggled—“for one on breaking gender rules, with Jenner as my interviewee.”

Jenner blushed but looked pleased.

“I like that
much
better.” Ben nodded and grabbed for an eraser.

“I'm also doing a
second
article that's a follow-up to an earlier piece,” I continued.

“Which one?” asked Ben, scribbling on the board.

“The Swirlie Bandit.”

Ben's marker squeaked to a halt. “Really.”

I nodded. “He wants to tell his version of the story.”

“
His
version of the story.” Ben snorted derisively.

I'd expected a negative response from him, but I didn't expect such a look of loathing. “And is there a reason you want to waste your time listening to his lies?”

I stared at Ben, mystified. “Do you not want me to write this piece?” It was a bad time to find out, especially since Marcus would be at the same social Ben was attending.

“I think it's a wonderful idea,” said Mrs. Bradford.

Ben's eyes widened and he turned to protest.

“
Particularly
”—Mrs. Bradford halted him with a gesture—“if we can find out what he's been up to the past year.”

A girl from the sports desk raised her hand. “His parents sent him to one of those survival schools in Canada. Tough Love or something.”

“No, they didn't.” Another girl rolled her eyes. “He was being homeschooled.”

I was about to inform them of what Marcus had told me, but Ben interrupted.

“Come on, guys. Let's wait for Delilah's article.” He turned back to the board, smirking, and added, “Besides, everyone knows he's been making license plates in juvie. The guy's too dumb to do anything else.”

The other kids laughed at Ben's comment, but for some reason, I wasn't amused. Maybe it was because Ben was getting so much pleasure out of making Marcus look stupid when he wasn't around to defend himself.

At that moment, Ben looked over and smiled the same smile he'd given me when I'd rescued him from Marcus the year before. Even though he'd grown so much since then, I realized he still felt like a victim, and this was his way of fighting back. So, I smiled to let him know I was still on his side.

“Ava”—Ben finished writing my new assignments—“changes to your story?”

She shook her head as she opened her binder. “In fact, I already have a completed proof.” She made a big show of waving the article in my direction before laying it in front of Ben's chair. I knew she wanted a reaction from me, and I was more than happy to oblige.

Clearing my throat, I said, “I was wondering … is the school board okay with this?”

Ava responded in a voice that sounded flat as a tuba. “You
must
be joking.”

“Well”—I looked innocently at her—“I'd hate for students to read your article and think shoplifting is a great way to get attention.”

“I … didn't think about that,” said Ben, frowning.

“Luckily, I did.” I handed him the spiral page. “I thought it might upset some parents, so I called the school board. Six of the seven members don't want Ava telling their kids about the thrills of shoplifting.”

“But … but that is
not
what I am doing!” Ava directed her protest at Ben, but her eyes flashed daggers at me.

Ben scanned the paper and passed it to Mrs. Bradford with a questioning look. “Do you think this will be okay?”

Mrs. Bradford pursed her lips. “Delilah, you said six of the seven members disapproved. What about the seventh?”

“Actually,” I said, “he disapproved too, but—”

There was a knock on the door, and every spine of every
student instantly straightened as the headmaster of Brighton Junior Academy entered the room.

“The seventh member wanted to tell you in person,” I finished.