Read All About It! (5 page)

I flipped the note over. There was nothing else. Great. My huge crush
finally passes me a note and it's all business.
Martone
Throws in the Towel,
I thought dejectedly. This day could only get
better.

Fine
, I wrote, then I quickly passed it to
Fred when the teacher wasn't looking. Two could play at this game.

During study hall, I went to the newspaper office. One of the many cool
things about working on the paper is that you get to spend your free periods and study
halls in the office if you want to. It's a privilege. Obviously if your grades
drop, you lose the privilege, but it's pretty cool to have a place to go and kind
of lounge or get work done or chat with friends.

As I entered the office, Mr. Trigg called out, “Samantha! Hello!
I've left the curriculum materials for you in your mailbox!”

All of the staff reporters and editors and art/layout people have their
own mailboxes in the
Voice
office. I turned to mine and spied
a manila envelope, which I grabbed and stuffed into my messenger bag. It had to be the
Dear Know-It-All letters in there.

“Thanks, Mr. Trigg,” I called.

He nodded vigorously and tried to look very, very
busy, so I knew for sure it was letters. I was excited! I couldn't wait to
demonstrate my new and improved snappy writing skills in this hot column! It was really
happening, now!

If only I could rip the envelope open right here and read the entire
contents right now, I thought. But obviously that would be a bad idea.

“Yo,” said Jeff Perry, walking in the door behind me.
“Saw you joined Buddybook last night.”

“Ugh!” I said. “I hate that thing! I already
quit!”

Jeff laughed. “That's what they all say the first time.
You'll be back!” Jeff was still pretty small for his age, but he was wiry
and a good athlete. Fast. His head was tiny, but he had enormous eyes and lots of wild,
curly black hair. It was like his features were waiting for his body to grow into them.
He's pretty hyper too, like he has the energy to run a much bigger body so
there's a lot to spare. Maybe he'll slow down one day when he grows.
“Did you like my football photos?” he asked. “Some of them were pretty
hilarious!” He laughed.

I made a face. “I don't know, Jeff. Don't you
think some of those guys will be mad at you for putting their
photos up there like that? Some of them aren't so great.”

“Nah.” Jeff waved a hand dismissively. “Guys
don't care about stuff like that.”

Just then the door banged open. It was Michael! “Hey,
Pasty,” he said to me. “Yo, Perry, get those photos of me off Buddybook.
Now.”

“Dude! Come on! They're great! What do you care?”
asked Jeff.

“I care because you do not have my permission to put photos of me
on Buddybook, that's why.” Michael went over to his mailbox to see if he had
anything in there.

“No one else cares,” Jeff called after him.

“I don't care about other people,” said Michael,
doubling back. “And anyway, you're wrong. I bet all those guys tell you to
get their photos down today. Especially Andy.”

Huh. Maybe boys do care how they look in photos after all.

“Whatever,” said Jeff. “But you look good in yours.
Doesn't he, Sam?”

Girl Dies of Embarrassment in
Newspaper Office.

“What? Oh. Wait . . .” My brain was scrambling as I tried to
play it cool. “Which photos?”

Michael was looking at me closely.

Jeff sighed in aggravation. “You know, the football ones? The ones
where you said everyone looked bad and was going to be mad at me?”

I couldn't look at Michael at all now. “I didn't say
everyone
looked bad!” Oh my gosh. This was not going
well. I snuck a peek at Michael. His face was red now too! I could hardly say Michael
looked hot and everyone else looked terrible!

“Whatever. This is stupid. Just take 'em down, Perry!”
Michael snarled, and he left the office, the door banging shut behind him.

Um. Yikes.

“Thanks a lot, Martone,” said Jeff, shaking his head. He
collapsed into the office sofa and laid his head back, closing his eyes. “Way to
back me up.”

“You never should have put them up,” I said, and I left the
office too. Should I have told Michael he looked good in the photos and not to worry?
Would it seem like I liked him if I did that? Maybe I insulted him
without meaning to. And now Jeff was mad at me too. This day stinks!

Maybe the Know-It-All letters would be great and it would cheer me up. I
was dying to read through them but where could I go to get some privacy?

Duh!

I strode down the hall to the girls' bathroom and pushed open the
door. Phew. Empty.

Inside a stall, I locked the door and put the lid down on the toilet,
then I sat and opened the envelope. There actually were curriculum materials from Mr.
Trigg, but there were also three letters in envelopes that had been slit open. Mr. Trigg
reads them all first to make sure they're not hostile letters to the editor
disguised as Know-It-All letters, not that that ever actually happens.

The first one was on pink stationery with a matching pink envelope.
Obviously from a girl. Or maybe from someone who wanted us to
think
it was from a girl, I suddenly thought. Hmmm. My journalist antenna
tingled as I began to read.

Dear Know-It-All,

I still sleep with a teddy bear named Pal every night. This is kind of
embarrassing because I am now in the eighth grade. I don't want anyone to know,
but when I have sleepovers I can't get to sleep without him. What should I do?

From,

Sleepless without Pal

Ha! That was a funny one! Time to grow up, I'd say. Lose the Pal.
I wondered if a boy had stolen his sister's stationery to write the note and throw
us off his trail. It was possible. I felt proud of myself for being such a good
investigator to even think of such a thing. I set it aside. It could be good for later
in the year if I didn't have anything better, but it was kind of lame for the
launch of this year's column. I wanted something juicier.

Next!

This one was handwritten on white computer paper in a business envelope.
As I read, I saw lots of misspellings and grammatical errors that made me wince. Do I
even go to the same school as this
person? I wondered.

Dear Know-It-All.

You know how somtimes things are sucking at home and you, like, dont want
to be there at all ever? Where should you go, like, insted?

Thanks.

From,

A guy

Okay. Wow. That was kind of heavy for the first Dear Know-It-All of the
year. Don't know how to help that guy! I bit my lower lip and moved it to the
bottom of the pile.

The last letter had been done on a computer. It said:

Hey Mr. Know-It-All,

What do you do when you and your best friend have a crush on the same
person?

Signed,

Unlucky Taste

Whoa! That was a juicy one! I couldn't even
imagine what would happen in that situation. The poor guy. He should just tell his
friend and then he and the friend can duke it out over the girl, I would say!

This would make a great, very jazzy first column of the year, I decided.
I'd wait to see if anything else came in, but I felt secure at having at least one
great option. Not that I had a clue what to say to this person, but I'd deal with
that later. (Maybe I could research it online somehow.)

I folded the letter up and stuffed it back in its envelope, then I put
all three letters back in the manila envelope from Mr. Trigg, tightening the bolt on the
back and wedging it all back down into my messenger bag. There had to be a safer way to
transport these letters. What if my bag fell into the wrong hands?

I exited the stall, washed my hands, and went to meet Hailey. Hopefully
lunch with my BFF would cheer me up!

Chapter 6

MARTONE FIRES
BEST FRIEND, BECOMES HERMIT

Lunch was gross. I sat with Hailey and picked at my chimichanga and
JELL-O.

“Mr. Pfeiffer should have revamped the lunch menu before he took
on the curriculum,” said Hailey.

“Oooh!” I whipped out my notebook. “Can I quote you?
That would be good for my article,” I said, copying down Hailey's words.

“Sure. Whatever. I'm full of juicy quotes,” she said.
“Oh look. Here comes lover boy!”

I looked up and there was Michael with his lunch tray, looking for a
place to sit.

“Yoo-hoo! Number fifteen!” called Hailey.

“Hailey! No!” I hissed, but it was too late.

“Why not?” she said, turning to me.

I sighed. “Just . . .”

“Hey, Hailey. Hey, Pasty,” said Michael.

“Want to join us?” asked Hailey.

“Okay. Just for a minute, because I'm actually sitting with
Walter once he finishes clearing out the buffet line.”

Hailey sat up straight and fluffed her hair with her hands, leaving her
dangly earrings jangling all over the place. This fluffing thing was an annoying new
habit she had, I'd noticed.

“Quite the photo of you on Buddybook last night,” she said
to Michael in kind of a flirty way.

Oh great, here we go again. Can't anyone talk about anything but
Buddybook?

Michael did not look happy. “Sam here thinks it's
terrible.” He gestured to me with a jut of his chin.

“
What?
I do not!” I sputtered.
“That is totally inaccurate!”

Michael shrugged and looked away. “I believe the quote was
‘I didn't say everyone looked bad,'” He made little quotation
marks in the air.

“That's not what I said!” I protested.

Michael tapped his temple. “Fancy memory,
remember?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. “Well, that's
not what I meant.” Did I dare to tell him he looked gorgeous in the photo? My body
surged with adrenaline at the idea of being that bold. Could I do it?

“Well, I thought you looked gorgeous in the photo,” said
Hailey.

Wait,
what
?

Did she just say exactly what I was thinking?

I looked at Hailey. Then I looked at Michael. He had ducked his head
shyly, a move I'd never seen him make before. Michael Lawrence? Shy? My eyes
widened. I couldn't process this.

“Yeah,” said Michael dismissively, as if he was saying,
“No.”

“It's true, right, Sammy?” Hailey nudged me.

“Hailey!” Was she trying to mortify me or what?

“Tell him how good he looked!” she teased.

Oh my goodness. I wanted to die. I covered my face with my hands. This
was so embarrassing.

“There's Walter. I've gotta go,” said Michael.
And he stood up with his tray and hurried away.

“Sam!” Hailey hit me on the arm. “What is your
problem?”

“What is yours?” I said. I was furious. “Why are you
trying to rat me out? Why do you want Michael Lawrence to know I'm in love with
him?”

“That's not what I was trying to say! Couldn't you
tell how embarrassed he was? I was trying to make him feel better. It
is
a great photo of him. Just acknowledging that doesn't declare your
love for him!”

“Yes it does!”

“Oh, please. He's just a person too, you know. It
wouldn't kill you to be nice to him.”

“What are you talking about? I'm always nice to
him!”

Hailey shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Not really.”

“What?! Yes I am!”

“Sam, you hardly even talk to him unless it's necessary. I
bet you don't know anything about him.”

“Why, do you?”

Hailey shrugged again. “Yeah.” She
looked down at her fingernails.

“Like what?” I asked.

“I don't know.”

“Okay, so, then . . .”

She counted things off on her fingers. “Well, I know that his
favorite lunch is cheeseburgers and his favorite class is language farts, and I know
that he throws lefty and he has had two concussions and if he gets another he
can't play football anymore. And I know that—”

“Wait. Stop. Hold it!” I said, putting my palm flat out like
a traffic cop. “How do you know all this?”

Hailey shrugged again. “I don't know. I just talk to him,
like a normal person. I ask him questions and then I listen to the answers. It's
not so hard. It's called being a friend.”

I tossed my head. “Well, I'm not his
friend
.”

“Okay. Whatever then,” said Hailey.

“It's a little annoying that you're suddenly the
expert on Michael Lawrence,” I said quietly.

Hailey was looking off at the other side of the
cafeteria. I followed her gaze and saw Walter and Michael. They were laughing and
joking around like they didn't have a care in the world.

“At least I didn't hurt his feelings,” Hailey said
back, without looking at me.

“Oh come on, boys don't have feelings!” I said.

Hailey looked at me like she was shocked. Then she rolled her eyes and
laughed. “You are hopeless,” she said.

“Wait, do they?” I asked.

Hailey laughed harder. “
Really
hopeless!” She stood up and collected her stuff and her tray. “Come on.
Let's go.”

Martone Fires “Best Friend.” Becomes
Hermit,
I thought.

Chapter 7

MARTONE BACK FROM
BRINK OF DISASTER

Seventh period came too soon. I was so nervous about our meeting that
for the first time in years I was actually dreading seeing Michael Lawrence. I dragged
my feet all the way down to Mr. Pfeiffer's office for our interview, nearly making
myself late.