Front Page Face-Off (5 page)

The front legs of my chair slammed into the floor. “What!”

Ava's mouth curved into a smile, but she didn't answer. With the commotion that followed, nobody would have heard her, anyway.

“It's Gina Mueller! I know it! Nobody who brings a sack lunch could afford shoes like that.”

“It's Abbey Houston. I saw her shopping for an orange prison jumpsuit.”

“They don't wear those in juvie.”

“Ohhh. Then she has really bad taste.”

Even Jenner had her own ideas (“An evil twin!”), but I sat quietly, staring at Ava. If nobody else had recognized the mystery student yet, I found it hard to believe that Ava, an outsider, had. And somehow I doubted any preteen purse thief would confide in a stranger with such a
charming
personality.

The only person who could have possibly shared this information with Ava was the same person who had shared it with me.

While Ava basked in the glory of all her attention, I casually knocked my pen off the table and bent to retrieve it. After a glance around to make sure nobody was watching, I ducked under the table and leaned toward Ava's book bag. A familiar perfume filled the air, and the corner of a red envelope peeked out of the side pocket.

“Paige … that double-crosser!” I whispered.

“Delilah?” Mrs. Bradford's head appeared under the table. “Are you okay?”

“Oh! Yes!” I tried to straighten up, still under the table, and whacked the back of my skull. “I was just … getting my pen.” My eyes watered as I shifted backward, rubbing my scalp. “So, who's the shoplifter?”

“Ava doesn't want to name names.” Ben gazed admiringly at his girlfriend, Saint Pompous. “She'll be quoting the student anonymously out of respect.”

“Or because she doesn't know who it is yet,” I said under my breath.

“Okay, Delilah. You're up!” Ben held his marker at the ready. “What's the scoop?”

All eyes were on me, but my eyes were on Ava's headline on the board: “Middle School Misfits.” As much as I hated to admit it, her piece was going to get a lot of attention … way more than frog dissection.

“Mine … also has to deal with student issues,” I said.

Jenner knew where I was headed and cleared her throat loudly, giving a cough that sounded like “Don't!”

I ignored her and continued to look at Ben. “I decided to do a piece on desperate dating behavior.”

Jenner coughed even louder and slapped the table.

“Beatrice, this is why I don't like you chewing those candy necklaces!” said Mrs. Bradford. “Does anyone know the Heimlich?”

“I'm fine!” Jenner protested. “Delilah, go ahead with your funeral … uh … idea.”

I knew I was about to make her head explode, but I had no other choice. “Well, this summer I saw Renee Mercer eating out of a trash can—”

“Bwa-ha-ha!”

The first raucous laugh came from somewhere in the back of the room. Several other people joined in.

It wasn't the initial response I'd hoped for, but at least I'd gotten some attention.

“That's not the whole story,” I said. “See, it was an ice-cream cone that belonged to her ex-boyfriend, and she was stalking him at the mall.”

Now everyone was chattering, even more so than about the shoplifting teen. I'd attached a face and name to the situation, something Ava
hadn't
done, making my story seem raw and real. With the buzz I was already building,
the article was sure to explode once it reached the student body, lifting me to Junior Global Journalist acclaim.

And then I heard a voice at the end of the table say five dooming words: “Wait until Renee hears this.”

A girl from the sports section, who I now recognized as one of Renee's lacrosse teammates, whipped her cell phone out of her purse.

Beside me, I heard the smack of palm against forehead as Jenner sang, “I toooold you.”

Other kids caught on to Lacrosse Girl's idea, and soon thumbs started to fly across keypads, as the story of Renee's summer adventure was texted to other classrooms … and of course, to Renee herself.

“Wait! Whoa!” I leaned across the table, though Lacrosse Girl was still several arm lengths from me. “This conversation doesn't need to leave the room yet. It's just an idea!”

“A bad idea!” chimed in Jenner.

I glared at her and she shrugged. “I'm only trying to help.”

“I wasn't going to use Renee's name in the article,” I insisted. “My sources were going to be anonymous … like Ava's!” I pointed at her, hoping to spread a little of my impending doom.

Jenner had been right. It was one thing to take on the Little Debbies, girls I could beat down with a wet noodle;
Renee Mercer was an entirely different beast. She was going to make me the school's first obituary listing.

“Cell phones away before I take them away!” shouted Mrs. Bradford. “We've obviously got some great articles for our next issue, but Delilah”—she turned to me—“you
will
need to keep your sources anonymous when you write your piece.”

I flopped back into my seat and groaned. “If I live to write it.”

As the meeting continued, I became aware of a strange chain reaction at the opposite end of the table. It started with the girl who'd texted Renee.

I watched her check her phone, then clap a hand to her mouth and giggle. The boy to her right leaned close, and she showed him the message. His eyes widened, and the boy to
his
right leaned over so the first boy could whisper to him. The second boy passed the message to the girl beside him, and
she
tapped Jenner on the shoulder.

I tried to read the girl's lips, though I knew the message couldn't hold anything promising. A moment later, my suspicions were confirmed. Jenner cringed, scribbled on a piece of paper, and passed it to me.

Renee is going to tie you to the tetherball pole and bat you around.

I raised an eyebrow and Jenner scribbled on the paper some more.

She's going to the gym
right now
to tape up her hands.

I frowned in confusion, and Jenner mimed a few boxing punches.

Just then, my sense of self-preservation kicked in.

I grabbed my book bag and stood up. “Mrs. Bradford, I want to talk to the headmaster about my idea. May I go now?”

Mrs. Bradford checked her watch. “I think that should be okay. Did you have any more input for the meeting?”

“Oh … I'm sure I've said enough.” I glanced at Jenner, who crossed her fingers and smiled hopefully.

My attention drifted from her to Ava, who was also smiling … but with a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes.

“See you later, Delilah.” Ben walked me to the door. “And sorry again about the lead reporter thing,” he whispered.

Despite my situation, I was still
very
aware of this new Ben. He had leaned in close to talk, and I could smell his cologne. His arms seemed more muscular than they had that morning, as if he'd been lifting weights instead of dry erase markers.

“It's okay,” I whispered back, trying to inhale his scent at the same time. “I'm just glad
you're
in charge.”

Ben turned a pleased pink as he stepped away. “Try and stay out of Renee's sight, okay? I don't think she'll be too happy with you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please. Renee Mercer's nothing. I stood
up to the Swirlie Bandit. You don't think I can stand up to
her
?”

Ben grinned. “Just be careful.”

I laughed and waved him off, but the second he closed the door, I sprinted down the hall in the direction of the headmaster's office. I wasn't sure of the school's official policy, but I was pretty sure students couldn't assault one another there. Plus, it was the opposite direction from the gym, where Renee was probably loading her pockets with shotputs to hurl at me.

I paused to catch my breath and survey my surroundings. With the exception of a wandering sixth grader, the hallway was empty.

Someone tapped me hard on the shoulder, and I screamed.

“Looking for me?” asked a male voice.

I stopped screaming and turned to find a dark-haired guy frowning down at me. His eyes sparked like bits of black flint, and he crossed his arms over a chest broad enough to double as a movie screen.

My mouth opened just enough to allow one word to escape. “Marcus!”

I bet you never thought you'd see me again.” Marcus, the Swirlie Bandit, smirked and fixed me with a hard stare.

I smiled at him weakly. “Actually, with the kind of day I'm having, I should have expected it.”

Marcus took a step toward me and stretched his shoulders back, tilting his head to both sides so that his neck cracked ominously. “Well, you and I need to have a little talk.”

“Oh! Heh. That would be great.” I glanced around him, looking for the wandering sixth grader or someone else who could bear witness to my demise.

A few seconds later, someone even larger than Marcus came thundering down the hall. Renee Mercer was approaching fast … too fast for me to make an escape. The air seemed to vibrate with her every movement, sending shock waves of hate in my direction.

“Ack!” I grabbed Marcus by the shoulders and spun him around, placing him between me and the steadily advancing, steadily
growing
Renee. “Uhhhh … listen, I'd love to fight it out with you, but there's someone after me right now with a
much
fresher grudge … and she bench-presses small children.”

Marcus looked at one of his shoulders, and I realized I was still clutching them.

“Sorry.” I smoothed down his wrinkled sleeves. “Can we schedule this confrontation for a later date?” I pulled my spiral notepad out of my pocket. “When's good for you?”

“Huh?” Marcus raised his head and stared at me, baffled. “Um … tomorrow before school, I guess.”

“That's great! Perfect!” I jotted a reminder for both of us and handed one over. “Now, you might want to step out of the way. She's built up a pretty good momentum and can probably take you down with me.”

Marcus shifted to one side and glanced behind him. Renee loomed larger than ever. “Whoa!”

“Yeah, keep shouting that,” I said. “She's about the size
of a Clydesdale. Maybe she follows commands like one.” I leaned against the wall and stretched my calves. Then I pulled my knees to my chest. “Is it true they don't give you forks in juvie?”

“I've never been to juvie,” said Marcus. “What are you doing?”

“Stretching.” I knew Renee would come at me with fists flying, but I wasn't going down without a fight. “I took two weeks of self-defense during PE last year. They have to be worth something.” I practiced a few punches. “If you weren't in juvie, where were you?”

“A different private school.” Marcus grabbed my fists and moved my thumbs to the outside of my fingers. “You won't break them this way.”

“Thanks. Although you realize you're giving me tips to beat
you
, too.”

Marcus smirked. “I'm sure I'll fight you off somehow.”

Renee was now within threat-issuing distance, and she unleashed a volley of them. “I'm going to kill you, Delilah! You won't live to see high school! You won't live to see the end of the day!”

“You should go,” I told Marcus. “I don't want my blood to get all over your nice shirt.”

“Actually, I want to see how this turns out.” He settled himself against the wall.

Renee roared and charged toward me, reeling back one arm. Suddenly Paige Sanders emerged from a nearby locker bay and stepped in front of me, blocking my body with her own.

Renee ground to a halt inches from Paige's diva stance, as if smacking into an invisible wall. “What … what are you doing here, Sanders?”

“Sanctuary,” said Paige. “While Delilah is pledging the Debutantes, she's under our protection.” She glanced at Marcus. “From
all
enemies.”

Marcus smirked at me. “You're going to be a Debutante?”

“Of course she is.” Paige fixed her eyes on mine. “If she knows what's good for her.”

Trapped in a triangle of evil, I couldn't so much as come up with a sarcastic response. “Ummm …”

I needed to best Ava if I wanted to get my position back
and
save Ben from her clutches. As it stood, she had the power of the Little Debbies behind her, and all the secrets they possessed. If I agreed to join them, only for a little while, I could even the playing field and avoid meeting the business end of Renee Mercer's fist
plus
whatever Marcus had planned for me.

Three pairs of eyes were still watching me.

“Well?” Renee leaned over Paige's shoulder, her brimstone breath heating my face.