The Biggest Scoop

  Or was I just jealous? I chewed my lip. Writing was my thing— had always been my thing. Was Candice right and I needed to accept that I was not the only person in my grade— in my AP class— with a passion for it?

  Lily snorted. “How the mighty have fallen.”

  “I thought you tolerated me— oh.”

  Fern was back at school. The cast on her wrist was gone, but her lunch tray trembled slightly as she scanned the cafeteria. Taylor sat in her seat at the Spirit Squad table, and Emily occupied the remaining free seat. Maria and Victoria casually avoided catching her eye.

  Fern bit her bottom lip. She might have been annoyed; she might have been trying to stop it from wobbling like her tray. She raised her gaze, scanning the other tables for a free chair.

  I stood up and waved.

  “What are you doing?” Lily hissed at me. “She set you up with the tickets!”

  “There’s no way Fern did that,” I said out of the corner of my mouth as I continued to wave. “Trust me. I know.”

  Fern caught my gesture and blinked.

  “She’s seen you. You can stop waving— god, now everyone’s looking.” Lily put her face in her hands.

  “This’ll be great practice for when you and Candice show up to the formal together,” I told Lily. “Fern’s coming this way!”

  “Wonderful. Maybe you can sit down now?”

  I drew out a chair as Fern approached. “How is your hand? All better?”

  Fern carefully placed her tray on the table. “Not quite. It still twinges. I’m not supposed to write anything.” She hesitated to sit. “You really don’t mind if I join you?”

  “Absolutely not!” I kicked Lily under the table.

  She sniffed, opening up The Vampire Diaries: Dark Reunion. “It’s a free country. Besides, it’s not like we’re any great catch.”

  Fern sat. “Don’t say that, Lily.”

  I pulled a face at Lily, willing her to pick up my thoughts. We wanted Fern to stay, not leave immediately!

  Lily returned my gaze blandly. “Why not? It’s true. We’re here because no one likes us— including you.”

  “That’s not true.” Fern pressed her palms flat against the table. “A lot of people like you, Lily, but they’re too intimidated by your attitude to let you know. They think you don’t care. And Milo’s always done his own thing, no matter what anyone else said. A lot of people admire that— I admire that.” Her cheeks were pink, and she looked down at her tray. “So there.”

  Lily and I stared at each other and then her. “You didn’t admire Milo’s attitude when you were accusing him of taking those tickets,” Lily said slowly.

  “I know.” Fern looked at me. “Milo, I’m sorry. I was stressed— I was worried, and when I saw the tickets— I just jumped to the obvious conclusion. It wasn’t until much, much later that I realized, about the only person who couldn’t have taken the tickets and left the notes in my locker was you.”

  “Notes?” Lily asked.

  “You don’t have to apologize, Fern,” I said quickly. “Everyone makes mistakes—”

  “No,” Fern said. “You deserve to hear this, Milo. I mean, once I calmed down enough to think, it was obvious. Like, the face you made when Mr. Perry asked if you’d considered running for class president?”

  Lily snickered. “That was hilarious.”

  “What face?” I thought I’d managed to conceal my abject horror.

  “And when we had that abstinence campaigner speak to us?” Lily smirked. “I didn’t watch him at all. I just—”

  “Watched Milo? Me too.” Fern tucked her hair out of her face. “So you see, there’s absolutely no way Milo could keep his face straight long enough to take the tickets, let alone everything else. And that made me think about other things. Like why someone who’d found a mistake in my history essay that the teacher had missed would even feel like she needed to compete with me.”

  “What abstinence campaigner?”

  Lily kicked me. “You can’t make up for an entire year with one apology.”

  “I know.” Fern leaned forward earnestly. “I totally understand if you never want to be friends with me again. But I had to say it— to both of you. I made a big mistake, and I’m sorry.”

  Lily blinked a little too quickly. “About time.” She shrugged carelessly.

  I eyed her skeptically as I stood. That was the least convincing affectation of disinterest I’d ever seen. “I’m going to leave you to your reunion.”

  There was absolutely nothing the matter with my face, but Lily and Fern looked at me and dissolved into giggles.

  ****

  My reflection frowned back at me from the bathroom mirror. I raised an eyebrow, tried a grimace. No, there was nothing inherently funny about it that I could see. I screwed up my face; still nothing. “What is the matter with everyone?”

  Footsteps clattered in the corridor outside. I stepped back from the mirror, reaching for my bag.

  The bag was kicked across the floor before I could pick it up. A second foot connected with my ribs, and I was too surprised to do anything but fall over.

  Logan smirked down at me. “So. We meet again.”

  “What are you talking about? I saw you in Biology— give me that!”

  Logan was not alone. Jordan and Matt had squeezed in the door after him, blocking me from reaching my bag.

  “Hold him back! Come on— there’s two of you!” Logan took a step back.

  Don’t think! I lunged toward him, swinging wildly. Matt caught my arm, jerking me backward.

  Jordan hesitated. “But he’s mental! I saw what happened in the hall—”

  “There’s three of us and one of him! What? Want me to tell Coach you’re too chicken to tackle Milo Markopoulos?”

  I grunted as Jordan grabbed my other arm, trying to tug myself free. “Too scared to face me without two of your buddies? If anyone’s chicken here, it’s you, Logan!”

  Matt snickered, twisting my arm painfully. “He’s got a point. I still can’t believe he got the jump on you in the hall.”

  “Shut up!” Logan’s ears were a dull red color. Embarrassed or angry? Neither boded well, and I watched as he folded his arms. “You picked the wrong guy to piss off, Markopoulos. You are in trouble now.” He threw open the door of the nearest stall. “Swirlie time.”

  I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying “really?” This was the worst Logan could come up with?

  “Logan? He’s not looking intimidated.”

  Logan scowled, pulling the toilet handle down. “You think I’m faking? Seriously, I won’t hesitate to make them dunk you.”

  I watched the toilet flush with a feeling of resignation. “Leaving the hard part to someone else? Weirdly, I have no problems believing that.”

  “You’re right,” Jordan said suddenly. “He’s not scared.”

  “What gives?” Logan stared at me. “You don’t— like this do you?”

  “If he’s getting off on this, I’m getting out of here,” Jordan said.

  I rolled my eyes. “You can’t catch gay. Geez, it’s like I’m interacting with actual children.” They were all looking at me. “Seriously, think about this! I am short, smart and went to public schools before Bernhardt. You really think this is the first time this has happened?”

  Logan glanced to his cronies for support.

  “Anyone else, this’d be a classic case of reverse psychology,” Jordan said. “But Milo.”

  Logan’s frown deepened. “Milo,” he agreed.

  “You guys ever wonder if all we’re doing is recreating the negative patterns impressed on us in our childhood?” Matt shook his head. “I mean, I was at Sleepy Hollow Middle School with Milo. I know exactly who he’s talking about. Those guys were jerks.”

  “When I was in third grade, there were these sixth graders who used to wait for me in the hall by the water fountain,” Jordan said suddenly. “They used to tell everyone I peed myself. The school nurse was convinced I had a bladder
problem.”

  “Keyword— used to. As in ‘not anymore.’” Logan shoved my bag back behind him as he gesticulated. “We got one chance at this— or are you going to let one single loser ruin everything? We don’t stop this right now, we stand to lose everything we worked so hard for. Picture it. Next year, we’re the seniors. We got the entire school looking up to us. ‘There’s Jordan,’ they’ll say. ‘Captain of the wrestling team.’ Course that doesn’t mean much when he lets himself get pushed around by some twig with a pen—”

  “Hey!” I protested.

  “It’s true,” Matt said. “Man, Logan, you don’t want to know what they said about your absence at the Meet on the weekend. When they heard you got floored by Milo Markopoulos—”

  “You see? We’re going to be the laughingstock of the Westchester area. Maybe even the entire state.”

  I squirmed and finally succeeded in freeing myself from Matt’s grip. “You don’t need my help there,” I said. “So give me my bag and I’ll let you get on with that.”

  Logan frowned at me. “You want your bag back?” He dangled it above the toilet, casually shaking it.

  The binder with my script lurched toward the side. I lunged forward, trying to grab it. “Don’t!”

  Matt snickered. “Threatened with bodily harm, he doesn’t flinch, but you threaten his books— as if there was any doubt we went to the nerd school!”

  “Shut up!” I fought furiously, desperate to reach my bag. My elbow connected with Matt’s jaw in the process, which was momentarily satisfying. “No— it’s going to fall!”

  “What— this?” Logan caught the binder as it slid. “What is this anyway, your homework—”

  “Don’t look at it!”

  Logan jerked his head up in surprise at my vehemence.

  I realized then that I’d given myself away. “Dump it! I don’t care!”

  “What do we have here? Another prom confession maybe?” Logan flipped open the binder. “Well, well. Guys, we got ourselves another Spielberg.”

  “Don’t read it! Let me go— I’m going to murder you—”

  “Jesus, Jordan, hold him still!” Matt grunted as he shoved me back against the wall, adding his weight to his strength to keep me pinned.

  “I’m trying! How can someone this skinny be so tough—”

  “‘Fade In. Exterior, Barrytown School, Westfield.’” Logan snorted. “No prizes for guessing what that is based on.”

  “I’m going to rip your vocal chords out of your throat—”

  “Logan, maybe you shouldn’t read that—”

  “No way.” Logan waved my script at me. “Any writer’s got to learn to deal with critiques, right? We’re helping, Milo. Workshopping.”

  I strained, using the wall to try to give myself some force against my captors. “They’re going to need a workshop to patch you back together when I’m done—”

  “What kind of a story is this anyway? Teen drama? Comedy— romance? Let’s see—” Logan flicked through the script. “‘Suddenly the classroom door opens. THOMAS, a handsome student with a uniform that fits like a glove, chocolate brown hair and summer-blue eyes steps in, followed by MR. PRINCE, a middle-aged teacher with a vaguely hopeful expression.’ He’s hopeful all right— he’s hopeful anyone will read this crap—”

  Jordan and Matt laughed. I felt the fight go out of me abruptly. “No—” I’d never let anyone read my script.

  They weren’t expecting my body to go limp, and I slid to the ground unimpeded.

  “What the—” Matt nudged my leg with his sneaker. “Did we break him?”

  “Not us. The realization that his writing sucks. There’s only one place for trash like this. And as it happens, it’s right here.” Logan balled up the piece of paper he held.

  I watched him drop the paper in the toilet and pull the handle on it with that same not-really-happening feeling of a dream. This was exactly the same situation that had played out in my fears over and over again. Now that it was happening for real, I was frozen, unable to react.

  “What’s going on here?” Taylor’s voice sounded distant. Like he was a long way away.

  “Just giving Milo some creative feedback.” Logan was smug, sure of himself as he crumpled another page. “You should read it.”

  “This looks like bullying.” Taylor snatched the binder from Logan, glancing down at it. “Not to mention destruction of personal property. The principal’s hearing about this.”

  “Come on, it was just a little fun.” Logan’s voice dropped to that ingratiating whine, but I couldn’t even find it in myself to be irritated. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “All Logan’s idea. We’re just doing as directed. We can’t be considered culpable,” Matt added hastily.

  “No matter whose idea, you have to know that this sort of thing is wrong.” Taylor crossed his arms “As members of the Spirit Squad, you’re supposed to set a good example.”

  “We are setting a good example. Not letting ourselves be pushed around by a sneak with a pen.”

  Taylor placed his hand in front of me. “Milo’s not pushing anyone around. He resigned from the paper.”

  I stared at the hand. Why was it there? What was Taylor trying to communicate? It wasn’t until Taylor took my hand and tugged it that I got the hint. I got to my feet, keeping a hand on the wall to balance myself.

  “Typical. Everyone always takes his side.” Logan folded his arms across his chest. “Come on, man. I thought you were cool.”

  “We must have very different definitions of cool.” Taylor nudged me in the direction of the door. No one tried to block my path. “Mine doesn’t involve picking on someone who can’t fight back.”

  Logan snorted. “Don’t you believe it. Carson and Blake had a beef with Milo, and what does he do? He gets them expelled.”

  I stumbled, almost planting myself face-first into the doorway. No! Not this!

  Taylor caught my arm automatically. “What?”

  “That’s not important now! In fact, none of this is important!” I motioned frantically to Logan. “Go ahead, flush the rest of my script! You’re right, that is the best place for it!”

  Taylor’s hand tightened on my arm in a warning grip. “That’s not true. Milo wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “He would if his precious paper’s involved. Don’t know what his grudge against Carson was, but they were sniping at each other for weeks and then out of nowhere, Milo’s article came out, making it look as though Carson and Blake were drinking on school property—”

  I ground my fists together. “They were drinking on school property!”

  “After homecoming!” Jordan protested. “That’s like— tradition!”

  Taylor frowned. “Isn’t that illegal? We’re underage.”

  “It happens,” Logan said dismissively. “No one cares. Not until Milo made it something the school couldn’t ignore, by running an opinion piece about it. Next thing you know, the school board’s involved, the police are making enquiries— it was a witch hunt, and Carson and Blake were the victims.”

  “They didn’t just break the school rules. They broke state law—” My angry protest died as Taylor let go of my arm.

  “Milo, is this true?”

  The December chill had nothing on Taylor’s expression. It was very hard to speak. “I didn’t expect it to get so big! I just wanted to draw attention to the unfairness of the situation—” Just like the reporters that Taylor despised, I hadn’t thought of the personal consequences to Carson and Blake.

  “By getting them expelled!”

  “They weren’t expelled!”

  “They weren’t expelled then where are they now?” Logan crossed his hands over his chest.

  I looked down. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Right. Because the principal said not to? You weren’t thinking of that when you were getting your revenge—”

  “Enough!”

  Logan stepped backward at my exclamation. I grabbed m
y bag from him before he could drop it, pulling it over my shoulder.

  “You’re right. It is my fault Carson and Blake aren’t at school here. You’ve reminded me of that every single day since they’ve left, and you know what?” I looked around the bathroom, from Matt and Jordan’s belligerent expressions to Taylor’s blank one. “If I had the chance to do it over, I would still write the article.” I ducked under Mr. Harper’s arm— when had Mr. Harper joined us? Then again, when wasn’t Mr. Harper lurking in the background? —and out the door.

  Taylor followed me into the hall. “Milo, what the hell?”

  I stopped. If I was honest, it was this that I’d feared more than anything else. “I’m sorry, Taylor.”

  “What are apologizing for? What they said?” He stood just behind me. “You didn’t force those kids to drink.”

  “I’m exactly the sort of reporter you hate. Running a story despite the personal consequences to the people I write about. Logan’s right about that.” I swallowed. “I— should have told you in the park, but I liked— talking to you too much.” Even now, with the knowledge that he’d been practicing my gestures, it still hurt. “You don’t have to tell the principal about this. I don’t really care what Logan and the others do. I was just scared you’d find out.”

  “And now I have.” Taylor’s tone sounded grim.

  I was unable to turn to look at him. “Now you have.” I took a deep breath. “Thanks. For being my friend. It was really… cool. While it lasted.”

  “You can still say that? After everything?”

  There were kids in the hall, staring at us. They didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. “Not that it makes any difference now, but yeah.” The upside to ruining everything was that I could say that, even knowing I would regret it later. Nothing could possibly be worse than this moment. Feeling the weight of Taylor’s gaze boring into my shoulder blades, I made my way down the hall.

  Taylor followed me as far as the hall doors. “So you’re just going to walk away, leaving me with the fuzzy end of the lollipop?”

  I stopped myself from turning to look at him just in time. That would have been fatal. “Taylor, I am the fuzzy end of the lollipop.” And before he could laugh at me, I marched down the steps. The mood I was in, I could take anything— except Taylor laughing at me.

  ****

  Chapter Ten

  The morning traffic rumbled past outside, interspersed with the chatter of passing pedestrians or the occasional bird. It was like they were doing it on purpose. I pulled my pillow over my head, burrowing deeper into my blankets. I was miserable, dammit, and nothing was going to change that.