Read All About It! (2 page)

“Well, I hope you will say yes!” said Mr. Trigg.

It hadn't occurred to me to say no. I mean, why would I say no?
Okay, I didn't know a lot about a lot of things. Like boys, for instance. And
there were always a lot of letters about boys. But I could learn. Isn't that what
a journalist does? Investigate? Research? Figure it out? Plus, if I did a really good
job, maybe it would help me get to the editor in chief position, which is what I really,
really wanted for next year.

I had to accept. “Well . . . then, yes! Okay. Thank you! I'd
love to!” I laughed nervously.

I couldn't wait to tell my friends.

“Excellent. I will e-mail you the guidelines we use for the column
and I will collect the student letters each week. I am happy to help you pick an
appropriate one for each issue, and then you will e-mail me your
written response, which I need to approve. It will all be kept strictly confidential.
You understand that no one must know your identity, right, Samantha?”

“Right.” I nodded. Wait, I can't even tell
Hailey
? I thought. Really? Hailey could keep a secret. . . .

“Not even your best friend,” continued Mr. Trigg, as if he
was reading my mind.

Oh well, that answers that question. “Okay,” I agreed. I
hadn't thought about that. I tell Hailey everything. This could be harder than I
thought.

“Confidentiality is the most important part of the job. Loose lips
sink ships!” He guffawed again. Mr. Trigg is a World War II buff and I think that
line comes from the war or something. “I spoke to your mother, of course, but she
assures me that our secret is safe with her!”

Whew, I thought. At least Mom knows. But Mom always said we didn't
have secrets in our family. I wondered if she would tell Allie. I loved the idea that we
had a secret from Allie.

“All right! Thanks, Mr. Trigg.”

“Righty-ho, Samantha. I will e-mail you with
utmost alacrity! So long!”

“Bye.” I hung up the phone, then whipped out the notebook
and pencil that I carry with me everywhere. I wrote “Dear Know-It-All, by Samantha
Martone.”

It looked amazing. But then I crossed it out really dark so no one could
ever read it. I just needed to get it out of my system. I closed the notebook, stashed
it and the pencil back in my pocket, and just spaced out for a second in the
kitchen.

Wow. Me? Know-It-All?

Really?

Chapter 2

BEST FRIENDS
REUNITE

The front door banged open while I was eating a snack and thinking
about my new column.

“Helloooo!” It was Hailey.

“Hail-ooooo, Hailey! In the kitchen!” I yelled. Darn, I
wished I could tell her!

“Hi, honey!” my mom called from her office.

“Hi, Mrs. M.!” Hailey yelled back.

A second later my best friend, Hailey Jones, popped her head into the
kitchen doorway. “What's up, sister?” she said with a grin.

Hailey and I could not look less alike. I have long dark brown hair and
she has bright blond short hair. (A “pixie cut” is what she calls it.) I am
tall and she is . . . well, not tall. She's not totally
short
but sometimes people do mistake her for a fourth grader, which drives her crazy and
makes me laugh. Hailey is really muscle-y and coordinated, and I am pretty much a weak
klutz. We both have a lot of energy, but mine is more for talking and hers is more for
doing, if you know what I mean. I think it's because she has two older brothers
and she was always chasing them around and playing sports with them and stuff. Whereas
at my house, my older sister, Allie, and I talk, talk, talk and read, read, read. (And
sometimes fight, fight, fight!)

Hailey hopped on to the stool next to me. She propped her head on her
hand and looked at what I was eating. I am always hungry and always eating. Hailey
isn't that big of an eater, but her mom is such a health-food nut that when Hailey
comes to our house she sometimes goes crazy on our junk food—even the stuff that
isn't that junky to most people, like white bread and regular milk. It's
like she has to just have it when she gets the chance, because the opportunity might not
come along again soon.

“Want some?” I asked, pushing the peanut-buttered English
muffin toward her.

She scrunched up her nose. “Nah. So what did
you think?”

“About today? Pretty good,” I replied. “What about
you?”

“Yeah, me too. Pretty good,” said Hailey, nodding.
“Are you going to try out for soccer with me this year, or what?” she asked,
grabbing the English muffin and taking a bite after all. She chewed quickly and watched
me for my response about soccer. This was an ongoing battle between us. I don't
know why Hailey even has to try out. She was the star center last year!

I sighed. “Maybe,” I said.

“You always say that!” she cried, punching me in the
arm.

“Ow.” I looked down at my arm and brushed off some imaginary
crumbs, then I looked back at her. “Physical violence never solves
anything,” I said, mimicking my mother. It's one of her big lines.

“Yes it does!” said Hailey through a mouth full of peanut
butter.

“‘Girl Maimed by Best Friend,'” I said.
“How does that sound, huh?”

“Great!” said Hailey wickedly.
“Now come on. This is the year. Come with me and just go for it! It would be so
much more fun if we did it together!”

Even though Hailey is a doer and I am a watcher, we get along because
Hailey gets me to try new things, which is good. Mom calls it “pulling me out of
my comfort zone.” I guess it's good but I like my comfort zone. It's
comfortable. “When is it?” I asked, thinking it might be a good story to
cover for the paper:
Soccer Hopefuls Give It Their All
.

“Tomorrow, Wednesday, and Thursday.”

I pretended to consider it. “I'll come tomorrow,” I
said finally.

“You will?!” Hailey threw her arms around me. “Yay! I
love you!”

“Down girl!” I said, laughing. “I'm not trying
out. Just reporting.” I could pitch a story to the sports section.

Hailey unhugged me and did a fake pout. “Now I hate you.”
She crossed her arms.

“I hate you too, but not forever. What else about today?
Who's in your English section with you?”

“Language arts,” Hailey said, correcting me.
Since we have a new curriculum this year, all the subjects have fancy new names.
It's really confusing.

“Right! Language arts,” I said to correct myself.

“More like language farts,” said Hailey, cracking herself
up. The girl really does not like to read or write.

Hailey moved restlessly around the room, picking things up and putting
them back down. “So who are the hotties this year?” she asked.

“Oh, the usual. Looking better than ever with that awesome
tan.” I didn't even need to say his name. Michael Lawrence had been my crush
for years. Really since I met him. The only bummer is that I met him in kindergarten
when a onetime paste-eating experiment earned me the nickname Pasty (I thought it was
frosting! I swear!). He still calls me that on a regular basis, and it makes me want to
die. If he weren't so cute, I'd have Hailey punch him for me.

“Yeah,” she said. “He looks good.”

“Who do you like?” I asked, not expecting an answer. Hailey
never liked anyone real. Most of her crushes were on famous guys.

“Oh . . . I don't know. Maybe I'll like someone this
year,” she said.

I perked up, my journalist senses tingling.
“Like who?” I pressed.

“Oh, I don't know. I just think . . . I think it's
time I liked someone,” she said.

I nodded and grinned. “Interesting. And when do you think this
liking will begin?”

“Shut up,” said Hailey. “I don't need to be
interviewed.”

I ignored her. “What about Jeff Perry?” Jeff Perry is one of
Michael's best friends and he's pretty cute too. They play baseball together
in the spring, and he's a photographer on the
Voice
.
Also, he's not too tall; that would be another plus for Hailey.

Hailey shrugged. “Maybe him.”

I tapped my front tooth thoughtfully. “How are you going to go
about all this? Are you going to audition boys? Make them try out?”

Hailey glared at me and I heard the front door open again, then
shut.

“Allie?” I heard my mom call.

“Hi!” replied my older sister, Allie. I didn't hear
any footsteps. That meant Allie was in the middle of texting someone and had stopped
dead in her
tracks. I looked at Hailey and rolled my eyes.

Allie is in the tenth grade, and texting and the Internet are her life.
She hardly communicates in real life anymore; it's all online. Posting, texting,
e-mailing links, uploading photos, downloading videos—it's all she does. On
the plus side, she's the student coordinator for the high school website, which is
a pretty big job, so at least she's getting some kind of recognition out of all
this. It's just annoying to be around her because she's always distracted. I
know one day I'll see a headline in the one of those wacky grocery store
newspapers, like
Freakish Girl Grows Giant Thumbs: Texting to
Blame
or something like that, and it will be Allie.

Hailey, of course, finds Allie fascinating, because she doesn't
have an older sister. She refused to roll her eyes back at me.

Allie appeared in the doorway, still texting.

“OMG!” I said in a fake high-pitched voice. “TTYL!
XOXO!”

Allie didn't even look up. Just finished her typing, laughing a
little at something she was writing, and then clicked her phone shut and looked up. It
was
like she was re-entering the atmosphere, and it took her a
minute to adjust and realize we were there.

“Hi, Allie,” said Hailey shyly.

“Hey, Hails,” said Allie. She knew Hailey worshiped her and
she loved it. “Hey, little sis,” she said. “How was the first day of
kindergarten?”

“We're in middle school,” Hailey corrected her
respectfully.

“Hailey.” I groaned. “She knows. She's just
torturing us.”

Allie flashed us a grin and Hailey laughed.

“Oh, funny. Good one,” Hailey said.

Now I rolled my eyes again.

Allie can be great when she feels like it. She's very pretty,
tall, and really fit, with long, wavy sandy blond hair (“popular girl hair”
is what my friends called it in grade school). She's smart and has cool friends
and is a good dresser. But she can also be really mean. Like, right when you think
she's your friend, she lashes out at you or cuts you dead or rats you out. This is
only if you're her sister, of course. If you're her friend, she treats you
like gold.

“Any new hotties?” she asked, opening the
fridge and staring blankly inside.

“Nah,” I said.

“Still pining away for ML?” She looked at me with a grin and
winked at Hailey.

Hailey laughed and her cheeks turned pink.

Allie did a double take. “Wait,
you
like
him,
too
?” Allie said in shock.

Hailey looked mortified. “Me? What? No!” She shook her head
vehemently.

Allie looked at her suspiciously, then laughed. “There's
gotta be more than one cute guy in middle school.”

I nodded, though I couldn't think of anyone else. (Even Jeff Perry
didn't count.) Was Allie just trying to stir up trouble?

“How's Trigger?” Allie asked, changing the subject.
Allie had been on the school paper too, but it wasn't her passion. She liked Mr.
Trigg though.

“He's good. He . . .”
Oh my
goodness!
(Or should I say OMG!) I had nearly blurted out that he had called
me!

“He what?” she pressed, staring at me quizzically. Allie has
major radar for someone who
spends all her time plugged into
electronics. She'd actually make a great reporter.

“He's the same old, same old,” I said, fake laughing
and shaking my head from side to side. “That guy!”

Allie looked at me for an extra minute but I had scrambled her radar.
Luckily, just then her phone chirped and I was dead to her anyway.

She pulled it out and left the room.

“Homework?” I said to Hailey.

“Okay. Can you help me with language farts?” I always help
Hailey with her English homework. It's a ritual. She's pretty dyslexic and
hates reading and writing because it takes her so long.

“Sure, if you help me with math.”

As we went up the stairs to my room an overwhelming wave of frustration
washed over me. I was dying to tell Hailey about Know-It-All, and Allie too, but I
couldn't do it. It made me feel lonely.

I wished I could tell Michael Lawrence. I think it would impress
him.

But he'd probably just say, “Way to go, Pasty.”

Chapter 3

GIRL SUES
CLASSMATE FOR HARASSMENT—THEN MARRIES HIM!

It felt great to be back in the newsroom. The energy, the deadlines,
the smell of toner. I always felt excited when we were putting together the paper.

“Let's get some man-on-the-street reactions . . .” our
editor in chief was saying. “Interview some parents . . . Jeff, you'll get
out and take photos . . .”

We were having a staff meeting to plan out the first issue of the school
paper. It comes out every other week, so we have a good lead time to research the
articles, write them, file them (which means turn them in), have them edited and laid
out, and then put the paper to bed (which means get the final, final version off to the
printer). Our editor in chief is Susannah Johnson, who is in eighth grade.
She is extremely smart and very cool, and she is also captain of
the field hockey team.