Read All About It! (4 page)

I was left feeling lonely again, and this was
not
a feeling I liked.

Chapter 4

BUDDYBOOK: NOW
MORE ADDICTIVE THAN EVER!

Mr. Trigg e-mailed me that night with the guidelines for Dear
Know-It-All. They were pretty straightforward:

Do not reveal who you are.
(
Yeah, we went over that already. Sheesh.)

Do not reach out to the letter writer
directly.

If someone seems to be in danger in any way, notify
Mr. Trigg immediately.
(Danger?!? What kind of danger?)

Keep it wholesome.

Be supportive and sympathetic.
(
Hmm. Not my strong suit.)

Keep it relevant. Broad
subjects are better than very specific ones.

When in doubt, talk to Mr. Trigg.

All replies must be vetted by Mr. Trigg.

Don't forget, make it jazzy and
readable!

Part of me wondered why Mr. Trigg didn't just write the column
himself. It seemed like it would be easier. He probably had a lot more life experience
and could actually give someone advice, whereas I have none! And honestly, I'm not
good at being warm and fuzzy. I like facts and current events, not sob stories.

At the end of his e-mail, Mr. Trigg said that a few letters and e-mails
had started to trickle in and that he would print them all and put them in a packet for
me to pick up in the newsroom tomorrow. My mind began to whirl with possible intrigue
and drama. What would these letters contain and how would I answer them? Me, the
lovelorn klutz of the century. I hoped they'd all be about academics and
extracurriculars so I could focus on the facts. I clearly had no idea what to tell
anyone about dating
or crushes or anything like that. Except
don't trip on a pile of cones.

As I was sitting at my desk, reading his e-mail, Allie appeared in my
doorway. I quickly minimized the e-mail window, kicking myself for not having created a
password-protected folder yet to store the Know-It-All stuff. I couldn't risk
someone coming over and going online on my computer, only to have her find the
Know-It-All information! And I knew Allie sometimes poked around when she was bored.

“Hey,” said Allie. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at me.
“What were you working on?”

“Oh, nothing. Just typing up quotes for my article on the
curriculum changes.”

Allie looked like she didn't really believe me, but she could
hardly dive across my desk to prove me wrong. Instead she said, “Oh yeah. I heard
something about that. They changed all the classes and now you're just taking,
like, basket-weaving and folksinging or something?”

“Not exactly. It's just that instead of having regular
subjects like math and English, they're integrating subjects so we study the same
topics
and themes but from different angles. It's called
‘multidisciplinary.'”

Allie raised her eyebrows. “Fancy. But I still have no idea what
you're talking about.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the
doorjamb.

I had to struggle to explain it myself. I could only do it by using
examples. “Like, say we're studying the founding of the United States this
year; in language arts we'll read books about the settlers and write diaries as if
we're settlers. Then in earth science we'd talk about the New World's
climate and geography and the crops they grew back then.”

Allie looked begrudgingly impressed. “That's kind of cool.
So it all ties in?”

“Yeah. It's just hard to keep track of what class
you're in and what is expected of you. Like in earth science, am I supposed to be
focusing on memorizing facts or creative writing? It takes a while to get used
to.”

“Huh. Well, I came to see if you have any printer paper I can
have, please.” Allie was clearly done with the topic.

“Yeah.” I went under my desk and grabbed a
bunch of pages and handed them to her.

“Any word on who the Know-It-All is this year?” Allie asked
suddenly.

I felt a jolt go through my body. Was the girl psychic or what? But I
played it totally cool. “No. I haven't heard anything. Have you?”

“Why would I hear anything? High schoolers don't talk about
middle schoolers. Ever,” Allie said in a huff.

Right, so why are you wondering
, I wanted to
ask. But instead I said, “Oh. Well let me know if you accidentally hear
anything.” I thought that was good, throwing that in there.

“As if,” said Allie, and she left.

Phew! That was a close call! Quickly, I created a desktop file and
password-locked it (ML15 was the password, get it? Michael Lawrence, number fifteen),
then I dropped the Trigg e-mail into it and relaxed back into my desk chair. I knew I
should get started on my homework, but I decided I'd let myself have just a few
minutes online first.

I trolled around
CNN
and the
Huffington Post
to see if there was any breaking news since I
last
checked an hour ago, but there really wasn't. I stopped
by some of the celeb-watching sites and checked to see if there were any of my favorite
postings—disgusting-celebrities-in-bathing-suits photos—but there
weren't. I know those are totally mean and usually fake, but I can't help
myself. Finally, I checked my in-box to see if I'd received any more e-mail, and
there was one. It was yet another invitation to join Hailey on Buddybook.

I have to say now that I don't really get those sites where
everyone posts all their updates. I know they make it easy for everyone to stay in touch
with their friends from camp and whatnot, but I think they are boring and bogus and a
waste of time. I mean, kids post stuff like, “I'm eating French
fries.” I mean, how unnewsy—not to mention dumb—is that? Do I really
care? Does anyone else? I just don't get it. It just plain old wastes my time.

I deleted Hailey's invitation, fully knowing that she would e-mail
it to me again, and then I quit my e-mail and Internet connection. Next I signed off the
Internet for an hour. This is what I have to do in order to get any work done. Otherwise
I will continue to check, check, check the news all the time.
Mom taught me how to do it after I started taking waaaay too long last year to finish my
homework. She made me keep track of what I was doing when, and she added up that I spent
way more time on the Internet than on math. Whoops!

Sure enough, not one minute later, my phone rings and it's
Hailey.

“Are you ignoring my buddy request?” she asks, without even
saying hi.

I sighed heavily. “Hailey. You know how I feel about those sites.
It's just a waste of time. It's fake information. It's information
clutter. Plus, I'm in touch with everyone I want to be in touch with.”

“But it's so fun. If you sign up, we can play cards together
and join fan groups together and I can post funny photos and links for things I find
online . . .”

“Yeah, but you can e-mail me all that stuff too,” I said.
“And we can play games in person!”

“Well . . . maybe you'll join when you see the photos from
football practice that Jeff Perry put up today.”

Football practice? Hmm.

“Why? Are they funny?” I asked. “Is there one of
Michael?”

But of course, Hailey wouldn't say. “You'll just have
to join! Ta-ta!” And she hung up.

I looked at my phone and then I sighed heavily. That was an annoying
conversation. I am not joining Buddybook. Just on principle alone, I don't want to
do it. Time wasting, fake-informational, nonfactual, uncensored, unedited, free-for-all,
invasion of privacy . . .

But the football photos? Those I had to see.

I began the incredibly difficult and boring process of unlocking my Time
Out application. Mom made it really hard so that I couldn't just click back on it.
Fifteen minutes later I was logged on to Buddybook and climbing all over that site. I
was like a sugar addict who'd been let loose in a candy store.

I had accepted Hailey's request, which lead me to all of our
friends' pages, but I froze when I saw Michael Lawrence's name as a buddy up
on her wall. If I visited his page, would he know I'd been
there? Would he be able to tell? Would it somehow send him a buddy request from me?
And what if he didn't accept?! I was too scared to find out the hard way so I
didn't click on it.

Instead, I looked at Jeff Perry's page and scrolled through all
the football photos he'd uploaded. There were some really hideous-but-funny ones
of guys straining through warm-ups, making ugly faces and stuff. Some were so bad I had
to wonder if they'd mind that Jeff put them up there. There was one of this kid
Andy Ryan where his belly was hanging over the top of his pants. It was kind of a bad
angle, but he's also pretty chubby and it was just not flattering.

Maybe boys just don't care that much about how they look in
photos, I thought. But I would. Especially ones online for the entire world to see.

I scrolled down a little farther and stopped dead in my tracks. There
was a close-up of Michael Lawrence, his hair sweaty, his arm drawn back to throw the
football, and his face all serious and concentrated. His tan made his blue eyes look
even bluer, and his mouth was open, and he looked so, so gorgeous. Like
a movie star! It took my breath away. I wondered if there was a way I could pull a
copy off Jeff's page and make this photo my desktop background!

“Wow! Lookin' good!”

I jumped ten feet in the air. “Allie! You scared me!” I
hadn't heard her coming this time.

“Sorry!” she said, laughing.

“There's such a thing as privacy, you know!”

“Not on Buddybook, there's not!” Allie laughed again.
“Welcome to the dark side, little Miss ‘I'm Never Joining That
Time-Waster Site'! Does Mom know you joined?”

“No. Do I need her permission?” I said. I was offended by
her condescending tone.

Allie shrugged. “I did.”

“Oh whatever,” I said. “I might not even stay a
member. I just wanted to see these photos.”

Suddenly my in-box pinged. “Finally! Welcome aboard!” the
message read. It was from Hailey, of course.

Allie laughed. “You're going to be addicted in no
time,” she said. “It happens to everyone. Even the best of us.”

Humph. Not me. I can shut it off anytime.
“It's so not up my alley,” I said, clicking the window shut.

“Right,” said Allie.

“Why do you keep popping in here anyway and invading my
privacy?”

“Oh. Could I please have some paper clips?”

I groaned and doled some out. “You should have come to Staples
with me and Mom when she asked you to last week.”

“I was busy.” Allie shrugged. “Anyway, I knew
you'd get plenty. Mom too. Thanks!”

As soon as she left, I was back on Buddybook, looking for more photos of
Michael. Before I knew it, an entire hour had passed. If Mom ever heard about this,
she'd install something to send me into lockdown forever! I quickly disabled my
account and quit out every aspect of Buddybook. I knew I'd been right before! It
wasn't for me. I need to stick to facts and useful uses of my time.

Well, now that I knew how addictive yet boring Buddybook was, I could
make an accurate argument against it. Just like in journalism: present the facts,
let people draw their own opinions.

The only good thing to come out of all this computer time was that I now
knew I needed to rearrange my room so I that my back wasn't facing the door when I
was at my desk. I was tired of people sneaking up on me and I was tired of having my
privacy invaded.

I disabled my Internet again and got started on the Supreme Court case I
had to argue next week in front of my humanities class, whatever that was.

Chapter 5

MARTONE THROWS IN
THE TOWEL

I kept sneaking peeks at Michael Lawrence the next morning in
homeroom. I couldn't believe the photo I'd seen of him the night before. He
was just so gorgeous. Finally, he caught me staring.

“What?” he asked.

I was embarrassed. “Oh, um. Nothing. Just . . . did you get any
good quotes yet for the article?”

“Sam Martone, ace reporter. Are you always working?” asked
Michael.

I shrugged. “Aren't you?” Always good to answer a
question with a question, I say.

“Except when I'm on Buddybook,” he said with a grin.
Then he turned his back on me because our teacher was taking attendance.

What?! My face flamed. Did he know I'd joined?
Oh my gosh, did he know I had been looking at pictures of him? What if Jeff Perry could
tell I'd viewed his photos and told Michael? What if they could tell how long
I'd lingered over that one hottie photo of Michael? Oh my gosh. I hated Buddybook
now more than ever! It was a total invasion of privacy! It was worse than Allie!

I turned to my right and glared at Hailey. She looked back at me
innocently. “What?” she mouthed. I sighed loudly and shook my head.
She'd gotten me into this whole thing, but it actually wasn't her fault. It
wasn't like she'd gone ahead and signed me up for Buddybook without my
knowing. I only had myself to blame.

I felt something scratch my arm and I looked to my left again. Fred
Ogden was passing me a note, and he jerked his head to indicate it was from Michael
Lawrence, who wasn't even looking at me. Oh great. What now? Quickly I grabbed the
note and held it flat on my desk under my hand. I waited to make sure the teacher
hadn't seen. Then I casually smoothed it open and read:
Fourth
period
lunch tomorrow. Mr. Pfeiffer interview. His
office.