The New Guy (19 page)

The next afternoon, during Topics in Economics, the overhead announcement system squawks to life. This happens so infrequently that everyone turns to stare at it.

“Will Julia McAllister-Morgan please report to Mr. Wheeler’s classroom? Repeating, will Julia McAllister-Morgan please report to Mr. Wheeler’s classroom?”

Ms. Schmidt writes out a hall pass for me, and I try to say good-bye to Alex with a glance before heading out of the classroom.

“Jules,” Mr. Wheeler greets me as I walk into his classroom. This is his free period, so the room is empty of anyone other than him. “I’ve had something of an emergency come up, so I need to talk to you about the
Crest
.”

“Is everything okay?” I ask. “Did TALON do something?”
Did you hear about the article?

“My dad—” Mr. Wheeler stops himself, and I hear his
voice catch somewhere between his chest and his throat. “He died.”

“Oh my god,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mr. Wheeler.”

He waves his arms at me. “It’s fine. Well, no, it’s not—anyway, the point is that I’m flying back home now. Normally of course I’d have someone else take over as interim faculty advisor, but I’m comfortable with you taking care of the
Crest
while I’m out. You’ve more than proven that you’ll take it seriously enough. I’ll be back Tuesday, and I don’t know how available I’ll be until then.”

“I can take care of everything,” I say. “Don’t worry.”

“You’ll have to approve this week’s issue and send the files to the printer,” he says. “Carlos can tell you where the files are saved, and I’ll email you the directions to upload them. Just make sure to enter your email address instead of mine to get the proofs on Saturday morning. There’s a limited window to approve it, so make sure you’re on top of your email.”

“No problem,” I say.

“I know we’re still finalizing lots of this week’s content,” he says. “But you’ll do fine. If you’re not sure on anything, just trust your gut, Jules. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say as he hands over the folder of current submissions.

“Monday you’ll have to sign for the printed copies,” he says. “You’ve seen me do it a thousand times, so that’s no problem. And as for the pizza—”

“I can pay for the pizza!” I say. It feels like the very least you can do when someone’s dad is dead is pay for pizza.

“Keep the receipts, and you’ll get reimbursed when I’m back,” he says. “Thanks for everything, Jules. It’s a huge relief knowing you’ll be managing everything.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He pats my shoulder. I’m not sure how old Mr. Wheeler is—we’ve asked him, but he’s not particularly forthcoming—but I know that he’s younger than my moms. He’s not even forty yet. Whatever age he is is way too young to not have one of his parents anymore.

“Thanks, Jules. You’ve given me one less thing to worry about, and your mom—Lisa, that is—is going to run me to the airport.”

“Good,” I say, because even though I’ve never liked how friendly Mom and Darcy are with Mr. Wheeler, right now it makes sense. If you’re far from home and your family, someone has to step in when things happen. I suddenly feel so young to have never seen that before. “See you next week.”

“See you then, Jules. Thanks again.”

I walk back to Topics in Economics, and now that I’m not looking at Mr. Wheeler, something overtakes my sadness and sympathy. Mr. Wheeler asked me to take care of the
Crest
. He didn’t call in another teacher or an administrator. He called in Jules McAllister-Morgan.

I’m in charge.

By the next day, news of Mr. Wheeler’s temporary departure has made its way around the school. It’s not exactly the biggest gossip, but no one’s surprised not to see him in our fourth-period class for the
Crest
.

“What sub are we stuck with?” Carlos asks. “Does anyone know?”

Everyone starts volunteering what they’ve heard about Mr. Wheeler’s other classes, while I walk to the front of the room. A man’s father is dead, so I try not to beam.

“I’ll actually be handling this class for the next couple of days,” I say. “So it’ll just be business as usual.”

“This is awesome,” Marisa says, and I wait to be congratulated. “We can run the Chaos 4 All piece. Since Mr. Wheeler was the problem.”

“That’s your only concern?” I ask.

“Jules, I worked my ass off on that article,” she says. “And you’re the one so obsessed with preserving our print heritage or whatever.”

“I’m not obsessed,” I say, which might be a mistake because lots of people confuse passion with obsession, and that’s probably why other kids flat-out
laugh
when I say it. “I care about preserving it, absolutely. I think it’s my—our responsibility.”

“I care about that too,” Marisa says. “Think of how many people would be reading it if we were picked up by a major publication.”

She’s right. Natalie might have created TALON, but how important will that look next to coverage from national media?

“Okay,” I say, but then I worry I’m making the decision too quickly. I have Mr. Wheeler to think about, and of course Alex. I’ll be helping him let go of the guilt he must be carrying, but I wasn’t prepared to be doing that this week. “Let’s seriously think about moving forward with it.”

Alex wants to take me out to celebrate my scores, and even though I’ve been putting off time alone with him since I read the article, and even though I couldn’t find time for Sadie, I agree to it that night.

“Hey.” Alex grins at me once he’s in my car and in between kisses. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” I say. “Well, not anywhere. But anywhere you want where people from school wouldn’t be.”

“Feels like a lot of potential places.” He leans in to kiss me again. “What’s, like, your favorite place here?”

“You’ve probably seen it,” I say. “School or Stray Rescue maybe?
Oh!
”

“Jules McAllister-Morgan has an idea,” he says.

“Have you see the ocean?” I ask. “Since you moved here?”

“I haven’t,” he says. “Let’s go.”

I pull the car into drive and head toward the 110 Freeway.
I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten on the freeway to drive so far this late. Everything seems open ahead of me right now, though.

“Can I ask you something?” I sneak a look at Alex, though of course I believe in responsible driving. “Why haven’t you learned to drive yet? I’m not judging you, of course, I’m just curious.”

“Of course you’re not judging me.” He laughs and trails his fingertips down my arm. “Look, I’ve tried. My mom tried to teach me, and when that didn’t work, my dad tried to teach me. My friend Jack at my old school tried, and so did my ex-girlfriend—well, she wasn’t my ex at the time.”

I can’t lie; I definitely had fantasies where I was the first person who actually made Alex learn how to drive. But if his Michigan girlfriend couldn’t teach him, I’m not sure what would give me an advantage.

“I don’t like feeling out of control,” he says with a shrug. “Why put myself in a situation where I do if I can help it?”

“But you’re
in
control,” I say, my hands gripped on the steering wheel. “That’s the whole point.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” he says.

We drive past downtown LA, its brightly lit skyline always a tiny surprise when it appears. Los Angeles doesn’t feel like that kind of city, because the beauty it’s known for is full of palm trees and ocean waves. But its urban beauty is striking too.

“It’s strange that we’ll be gone in a year,” I say. “Maybe it’s not to you, since you’ve moved before, but I’ve been here since I was born.”

“It’s weird I get to pick where,” he says. “When your dad’s a professor, you move for the schools, not the places themselves. It’s not like I decided to move to Lawrence or Ithaca or Ann Arbor.”

“Or here,” I say.

“Or here. But here sounded good,” he says. “In all the other places, it was…
really weird
to be the guy from Chaos 4 All.”

A chill slips around and inside me, for just a moment.

“In LA, though… it’s definitely not the weirdest thing.”

“It’s not weird at all,” I say.

“Jules, it is,” he says, laughing. “I won’t think you’re a jerk for admitting that.”

I sneak a smile over at him before locking my eyes back on the freeway as I merge onto the 10. “I like that you’re weird.”

“Good!” He’s still laughing. “Anyway, our part of LA isn’t really… LA? We don’t have a beach and we don’t have Hollywood. It’s just a normal town. Where people don’t think Chaos 4 All is that weird. And where I can forget everything that happened.”

Everything?

“I just want the next part of my life to be my choice,” he says.

“You want to be in control,” I say with a smile.

“I know that for someone like you that’s never an issue,” he says. “But me… I’m still working on it.”

Traffic moves quickly until we get to Santa Monica, where the exit ramps clog with cars trying to get to restaurants, shopping centers, bars, and the beach. When we get out of
the car once I’ve parked a couple of blocks from the sand, the cool ocean breeze wraps itself around us. We’re only about thirty miles from our houses, but it’s another atmosphere.

“Thanks for taking me here,” Alex says as we arrive at the sand and pause to take off our shoes. “Do you want to walk in?”

“It’ll be cold,” I say. “And wet.”

He cracks up, so loudly that people look in our direction. “Really, Jules? The ocean’s going to be
wet
?”

“I just meant that we didn’t bring towels or anything.”

He kisses me softly. “I’ll take my chances.”

I’m exhausted when I sit down in women’s history the next morning. I force all my energy into a smile at Sadie so that I won’t have to make up a reason I’m so tired.

“Your favorite show’s coming on,” she says as the TV starts up for TALON.

Natalie starts off in her typical perfect newscaster way, and if there’s any part of her that’s still embarrassed to be known as an exceptionally bad dancer, even among children, it doesn’t show on her face.

Natalie throws it to Kevin for the AroundTown segment, which apparently this week is just about places nearby where E.V.A. students hang out. There’s footage of TALON staffers Jesse and Joramae hanging out in front of the fancy fountain at the Americana, and then a serious shot of Natalie at the downtown library. How can they take themselves seriously as journalists? It’s literally just footage of students in places.

And then it’s me. It’s me, and it’s Alex. It’s me, and it’s
Alex, and we’re in front of Donut Friend, and we’re holding hands. While I’m figuring out ways to explain that this must be old footage from the brief original time we went out, the street decorations for a local autumn celebration give us away.

I expect the room to react, but most people are just silently watching the next clip, which is of the camera crew in front of the big streetlamp art piece at LACMA. Most people, except for Sadie.

“Oh,
this
explains
everything
,” she says.

“Miss Sheraton-Hayes,” Ms. Cannon says. “No talking.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she says, loudly, while on-screen, kids are frolicking at the Grove. “Please.”

I realize that Sadie’s voice is breaking. Sadie must be
this close
to crying.

“Fine, Miss Sheraton-Hayes,” Ms. Cannon says, writing out a pass. “Hurry back.”

“Me too,” I say, following Sadie up to the front of the room. “Please.”

Ms. Cannon narrows her eyes but writes out another pass. “Be back by the time class resumes, girls.”

I wait for the classroom door to shut behind us. “Sadie, I—”

“No,” Sadie says as tears stream down her cheeks. When you’ve been friends with someone since infancy, you’ve seen them cry many times.

I had just never caused it before.

“You lied to me,” she says. “You lied to
everyone
.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “But with everything going on between the
Crest
and TALON—”

“No one cares about that,” she says. “No one cares except you and Natalie, but instead of realizing it, or just trying to
be my friend
, you’re letting your stupid newspaper—”

“The
Crest
isn’t stupid,” I say. “The
Crest
is the most important part of my senior year, maybe of all of high school.”

Oh my god, why am I defending the
Crest
right now?

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” she says. “We’ve all noticed. You care about it more than you care about any of us. You know, Thatcher’s on the
Crest
too, and I know he’s involved in all your little plots, but he still manages to be a good boyfriend and be honest to Em.”

“I’m not your boyfriend,” I say.

“No, you’re
my best friend
,” she says. “Which should be equally important, if not more so. And you freaking
know that
, Jules. And Alex—”

“I wanted to tell you,” I say.

“Then you should have. You’ve made me feel…” Sadie cries silently for a moment, and shoves my hand away when I try to touch her shoulder. “Like
nothing
. I know I’m just stupid Sadie with my stupid hair and my stupid problems and I’m not going to an Ivy League school, but—”

“You’re not stupid,” I say, and I try to touch her shoulder again. I can’t hear Sadie talk this way about herself. “I just have so many important things going on right now.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I can see where I rank with all of that.”

She turns from me and keeps walking down the hallway.

“Sadie, please let me—”

“Go back to class, Jules. Don’t jeopardize your GPA.”

She keeps walking, and I don’t know what to do besides turning around and walking back into women’s history. TALON’s over, which means I missed Alex’s piece, but did Alex know about the segment? Did Alex just want to come clean? Is Alex burdened with too much? He was a cheater in Chaos 4 All, and he might be a cheater for TALON, and then I made him take on this secret relationship.

He finds me in the hallway after class, and even though I feel like I should be looking for Sadie, who never came back to class, it feels really good to hug him without worrying about anyone seeing us. Now everyone can see us.

“I didn’t know they were going to do that,” he says. “I promise.”

“I believe you,” I say. “It’s just Natalie being Natalie.”

“Well…” He grins. “You guys did run that dance recital video. She owed you.”

“Don’t defend Natalie,” I say, even though I guess they’re friends or, at the very least, colleagues.

“Okay,” Alex whispers right before he kisses me. I should be looking for Sadie, but I’m so relieved this right now is still safe and good, even with the whole world knowing. “It’s good to have it out there, right? We needed the push.”

“Yes,” I say, and now I know that we’re running the article. I can’t wait for fourth period; I’ll text Marisa as soon as I can.
Getting rid of secrets feels right; I’d imagine long-held secrets would feel even better to let go of.

“I should go to class,” I say. “And try to find Sadie.”

“She just walked by,” Alex says, and that means that Sadie saw me with Alex’s hand on my waist while I should have been looking for her. But I head off in the direction Alex points anyway, and I spot her blue hair easily in the crowded hallway.

“Sadie, can we talk?” I ask.

“I have to get to class,” she says. “So, no.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I
wanted
to.”

She just keeps walking away, and I know I have to get to class, and I need to text Marisa, and so I let her go. In second period, Em treats me no differently than usual, and after sneaking a text to Marisa, I send one off to Sadie:
I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.
And then another:
I’m free after my Crest meeting this afternoon. Can we hang out?
And I can’t help sending a third:
Sadie, you’re never nothing to me.

“Are you serious?” Marisa greets me as I walk into fourth period. “We can run it?”

“
Yes
,” I say, with Natalie’s defeated face in my head—I mean, Alex’s relieved face. Of course. I’m doing this for him. Yes, there’s the bonus of hopefully ending TALON once and
for all. If they’re cheating their numbers, I can’t imagine school administration would be happy with that.

Even if they aren’t, there’s no way that TALON can compete with the attention the article will get.

“We’re running it?” Thatcher asks as Carlos runs around us to take a seat at one of the layout computers to switch out the “Fall into Extracurriculars!” headline for “Chaos 4 Who?” “You’re okay with this, Jules?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you guys were back together,” Carlos says, tweaking the headline’s placement.

“I should explain,” I say as the rest of the class surrounds us to watch Carlos work. “I never wanted any of you to think that I wasn’t one hundred percent committed to the
Crest
and working against TALON. So I didn’t want you to know about Alex because it might give the wrong impression about my loyalties.”

“Alex is hot,” Marisa says. “I think that’s all I assume about your loyalties.”

A few people agree with her, and then it seems like all anyone cares about is watching Carlos format the article.

“What happened to you not being sure if it’s appropriate for the
Crest
?” Thatcher asks me.

“This is where print journalism excels,” I say. “We still need to build readership, and national media attention would be a great way. And, of course, sometimes it’s better for secrets not to be secrets anymore.”

Thatcher doesn’t say anything.

“Do you think it’s wrong?” I ask.

“I’m not sure what I think,” he says. “But you’re in charge, so if you want to run it, let’s go. I trust you, Jules.”

It would be easy to stay in Mr. Wheeler’s classroom during lunch to avoid whatever awaits me in the cafeteria, but it’s another chance to talk to Sadie, so I go. Alex is already at the table with his lunch when I arrive, and everyone laughs or raises eyebrows or smiles knowingly at us. It should feel great, but
everyone
doesn’t actually include Sadie, who’s reading her women’s history textbook and not looking at anyone with her red-rimmed eyes.

After school we each proof a copy of this week’s issue, and, miraculously, there are no typos or printing errors. Seeing it in print makes me feel even better about my decision today.

Besides the cover story, it’s an incredibly typical issue of the
Crest
, but we did almost all of this one on our own. I’m sure Mr. Wheeler will mainly be thinking about his family when he gets back next week, but I also hope that he’s proud of us. Normally, the
Crest
wouldn’t even exist without the work our advisor handles, but Mr. Wheeler didn’t even bother trying to have another teacher cover those duties. Anything that I didn’t handle personally, I oversaw.

This isn’t even a typical issue. I’m positive this’ll be the most buzz-worthy issue we put out this year, and that’s because of me. I did this all on my own—well, I did this with my staff. TALON might have caught us off guard initially, but I’ll be the one who conquered.

And of course I care about journalism, tradition, and truth, but triumph feels really great too.

Alex joins me for my shift at Stray Rescue on Saturday, and even though it’s unprofessional, I let him cover for me a few times during walks so that I can check my email for the printer’s proofs. Everything’s perfect, and that means the issue is completed.

“Everything okay?” Alex asks, handing Giselle’s leash back to me while he keeps Titus.

“Everything’s great,” I say. “Our extra proofing paid off, and our issue’s perfect to go, and—is it strange that I’m talking about the
Crest
? I know that even though everyone knows about us that we’re still at war.”

“It’s fine,” he says.

“Make sure you read the issue on Monday,” I say.

“I always read it,” he says. “Well, I have been. Since we’ve been back together, at least. And in private.”

“The article Marisa interviewed you for is in it,” I say. “So read it in public.”

He grins and leans over to kiss me.

I swat him away, but only after the kiss is over. “We’re working!”

“You’re very rule-abiding,” Alex says. “Anyway, congrats. Sounds like Mr. Wheeler doesn’t even need to come back.”

“That would be amazing,” I say. “He should stay where he is! Oh my god, except for that his dad’s dead. I didn’t mean—”

“Too late, Jules, now I know you’re a terrible person.”

I smile at him and he grins back. “Do you know what a week from today is?”

He looks confused, and after a moment or so, I realize he’s messing with me.

“My parents are going to a banquet,” he says. “And you’re coming over.”