The Biggest Scoop

by Gillian St. Kevern

  “Oof! Some warning, Milo!”

  “Don’t blame me! Blame it.” The dog stood there, mouth open to display a slavering pink tongue and white teeth. Its tail wagged ominously.

  Taylor shifted to stand beside me in the doorway. “Milo. Are you… afraid of dogs?”

  “No!” I shouldered my bag, clutching my notebook tightly. “I’m just… careful around them.”

  “Careful.”

  “Extremely careful.” I looked back at the hellhound. The second, smaller one stretched and joined its companion looking at us with dark eyes, shining with hunger. “Dogs are unpredictable. You never know when they’re going to jump on you or bark or worse.”

  “These dogs are not going to bark,” Taylor said. “Look at them.”

  “I’m looking at them.”

  Taylor snorted. “Why are we here if you don’t like dogs? There are other coffee shops. No, let me guess— the newspaper’s involved.”

  I nodded, carefully inching my way inside the shop. “Owners patronize local art scene. This month it’s photography. Our art club has a few pieces up and” —the big dog padded toward me, and I froze— “Oh god.”

  “Milo, relax. He’s just being friendly.”

  “Too friendly!” The dog’s nose was in my crotch. “If he was a human, this would be a reportable offense!”

  Taylor rolled his eyes and crouched down by the dog’s nest of blankets. “Just as well he’s a dog then. Here boy.”

  My tormentor lifted his ears and turned, padding eagerly toward Taylor.

  Taylor grinned, running his fingers through both dogs’ fur. “How about this for a plan: I distract; you get your story.”

  “Deal.” I made for the back wall and the photo exhibit.

  It was an easy article. The bare contemporary interior of the coffee shop was a good backdrop for the art, while the grinding noises from the coffee roasters and the smell of their finished product was a welcome change from the sterile silence of art galleries. I took a few photos of the exhibits and turned to see one beast lying on his back, tongue lolling out of his mouth as Taylor rubbed his stomach, the smaller creature resting its head on his lap.

  I took a photo.

  “You didn’t need to buy me coffee,” Taylor said as we left.

  “You earned that coffee,” I told him, holding my own cup of decaf soy milk caramel latte. “Without you, I’d have been eaten for sure.”

  “They were really nice dogs,” Taylor said. “They would not have eaten you.”

  “Says you.” Relief at my near escape was making me giddy. Occasionally, my hand brushed Taylor’s arm as we walked, or he bumped against my shoulder. Every time it did, I felt a new rush of warmth. “Did you decide on a movie?”

  “It’s a tough choice,” Taylor said. “I’m stuck between two.”

  “What are they?”

  “Beverly Hills Chihuahua or Marley and Me.”

  “Mean.” I gave him a glare and paused. “That student teacher’s just across the road.”

  “Mr. Harper’s here to observe. Not student teach.”

  “So why is he observing us out of school?”

  Taylor rolled his eyes. “He’s not following us, Milo. Tarrytown’s a small place, and this is the main road. He’s probably headed toward the train station.”

  “No need to jump on me, geez.” I elbowed him. “Though if you’re going to force me to watch a dog movie, how about Old Yeller? At least that one has a happy ending.”

  “Now who’s mean?”

  ****

  We did not watch Marley and Me. Instead, we compromised on an old classic— Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. The final credits were rolling, and I was wondering if we had time for a second film when there was a knock at the door.

  Naomi answered it. “Another school friend, Taylor.”

  “This is Fern,” Taylor said. “She’s here to discuss the winter formal. Mind if we take the table?”

  “Of course not.” Naomi packed up her laptop and files.

  I watched as Fern opened her own binder. “I guess I’ll say good night and leave you to it.”

  “You don’t have to go, Milo,” Fern said. “These things are always better with lots of input.”

  Taylor nodded. “And if there’s something you’re not lacking in, it’s ideas.”

  I was tempted— very tempted. But there was no use prolonging the inevitable. “You two should get used to working as a team. Besides, I’ve got that article to write.”

  “Speaking of the paper…” Fern took a piece of loose-leaf from her file. “Could you run this for me? It’s a call for volunteers for the formal committee. Taylor, you look at it first.”

  Taylor glanced over the paper before handing it to me. “How did you have time to cheerlead, tutor your friends, and write a call for volunteers?”

  “I used my study period. It didn’t take me that long. One committee is pretty much like another.”

  “When do you plan on studying?”

  “On the train home,” Fern said. “It’s all right. I’m used to it.”

  Returning to our dark apartment was not fun. Thursday was leftover night. Usually I could look forward to tzatziki or meatballs, but the Advent fast took the fun out of leftovers. “I don’t even know why we do this! It’s not like Yaya knows!” I spread a piece of toast with hummus, trying not to imagine what Fern and Taylor were discussing next door.

  Inevitable, I reminded myself firmly. I’d still see Taylor in AP English. So there was no reason to feel like this was the end.

  ****

  Taylor’s first days as class president went perfectly. I felt a quiet glow every time someone stopped him in the hall to congratulate him or asked a question about the formal committee. Seeing him at lunch, surrounded by a mix of students from the drama club in addition to Fern, Declan and the Feministas, made me certain I’d done the right thing.

  If any doubts had remained, they were settled by seeing that the latest issue of the paper was cleared out by the final bell.

  “I think we can congratulate ourselves,” Candice said. “This last week has been a roller-coaster, but we’ve boosted circulation, raised awareness, and cemented the paper’s place at the school. In summary, we rock.”

  I was still brooding over the changes made to my article. “I don’t see why you had to cut so much. It wasn’t over the word count.”

  “The references to slavering animals and fearsome beasts had to go. They detracted from the direction of the article.”

  “The students of this school deserve to be warned—”

  The classroom door opened. Two girls stood outside, in the slightly too big for them uniforms of freshmen, looking nervous.

  I took a deep breath. They’re more scared of you than you are of them. “This is the newspaper club.”

  “How do we join?”

  By the time the meeting finished, we had three new members and two old. Candice had brushed aside Samantha’s apology and given her back the sports reports, but she’d refused to give Lionel back his former position as deputy editor. “We need someone who won’t flake on us whenever tests come around.”

  I glowed at the compliment, but our returning staff had made me think. I lingered after the meeting to talk to Candice. “You remember Lisa?”

  “Joined the same time you did, right? What about her?”

  “Do you know why she quit?”

  Candice shook her head. “That was when Ally was in charge. I don’t really remember— weren’t you friends?”

  “Not close friends. I was just thinking. Since she quit the newspaper, I’ve barely seen her. It’s almost like she just vanished.”

  “Is that your next story? I’d stick to Taylor. Speaking of, if you can get a picture of Taylor holding a kitten, do. We’ll keep it as standby in case our circulation ever drops again.”

  ****

  Given Taylor and Fern were at the helm, it was no surprise at all that the formal committee had volunteers and then some.
When I arrived, only five minutes late, the classroom was already full.

  Taylor looked up from where he sat at the teacher’s desk and nodded, but Fern was in full-on organization mode.

  “I’ve created different sign-up sheets for each of the groups we’ll need. Decorations for the venue, poster design and distribution, ticket sales and other forms of promotion, as well as music and entertainment for that night. In addition, we’d like one person from each group to be a representative on the committee. Over to you, Taylor!”

  “Thanks, Fern.” Taylor stood. “As we’ve got Thanksgiving break next week, we don’t have much time to put the formal together. Fern and I put together a short list of themes to vote on today. I made a few mock-ups last night to give an idea of what we’re talking about. Look at the screen, please.”

  I whistled. Mr. Freeman was notoriously possessive about his tech. Even other teachers were only allowed to use it in his presence. How had Taylor managed this? Was it possible that not even teachers were immune to the Taylor magic? Or maybe the watchful gaze of Mr. Harper, leaning against the wall, arms crossed against his chest, was an acceptable substitute for Mr. Freeman’s presence.

  “Frozen is an obvious choice, and it’s popular,” Taylor conceded. “A blue and white color theme and winter directions would be easy to do. We’re also close to Christmas, so a holiday theme’s another good option. But with the annual Victorian Christmas event at Lyndhurst Manor, a Christmas theme isn’t the most exciting. So we came up with our third option.”

  He clicked the next slide, and the Victorian carolers were replaced with a winking Marilyn Monroe.

  “Some Like it Hot,” Taylor explained. “A return to Hollywood’s golden age. Glamorous ladies, sharply dressed men, a hint of intrigue and a lot of style.”

  There was an instant excited buzz of conversation around me. “Yes. That one.”

  “I vote for that one, too!”

  Taylor paused. “We have other suggestions—”

  Declan stood. “Hands up; all in favor of Some Like it Hot?”

  The vote was unanimous.

  ****

  “Milo, wait!”

  I obediently turned back. So did most of the hall. Taylor had that effect on people. “What’s up?” I asked as he fell into step beside me.

  “I wanted to thank you for giving us the idea for the formal theme—”

  It was a struggle to remind myself I was filled with guts and intestines and not pure helium. “I think you and Fern did that—”

  “And offer you a place on the committee.”

  “What, really? Me?”

  Taylor nodded. “We’ll need someone to coordinate coverage of the event with the school newspaper. Fern and I agreed that there was no better person for the job.”

  Words I never thought I’d hear from Taylor. There was just one tiny detail preventing this from being the greatest moment of my high school life to date. “In here.” I tugged Taylor into the nearest classroom. Fortunately, it was empty.

  “If you’re going to ask me on a study date—”

  “You’ve got lipstick. Here.” I pointed to my face.

  Taylor put his hand to his cheek. “Oh.”

  Everything Taylor did was so collected and perfect; I’d never imagined he could blush. “Let me.” I grabbed a tissue from the box on the teacher’s desk and dabbed at his cheek. “Who was it? Sarah Choi? Emily?”

  “None of your business.” Taylor turned redder and redder. Interesting.

  “I’m obligated to ask.” I dropped the tissue in the wastebasket. “This is a good thing. You’ll have no problem finding a date for the formal.”

  Taylor groaned. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Really? How can you— that is the entire point of a formal!”

  “Do I have to remind you I’m not at school to find a date?” Taylor folded his arms across his chest.

  “I keep forgetting you were homeschooled.” I frowned at him as a thought occurred to me. “Is this your first dance?”

  “Kind of? I mean, I’ve been out, and there was dancing, but it was never an event like this.”

  “Your first dance! Taylor, this is amazing. The article practically writes itself!”

  “Is it really that weird?” Taylor caught sight of my expression and sighed. “At least stress that I am not actively looking for a girlfriend! I want to study— not whatever you are thinking of right now, Milo.”

  “Mm.” With the winter formal officially happening, the hunt for partners is on! No one is immune, not even newly elected junior class president, Taylor—

  “Do not try to find me a date. Are you listening? Don’t find me a date!”

  ****

  CLASS PRESIDENT WITHOUT A DATE.

  Taylor threw the newspaper down on the cafeteria table. “What is this?”

  It was lunchtime, Tuesday. Mom and I had spent Thanksgiving at my grandmother’s place in the city. Taylor had missed school on Monday, making it six days since I’d last seen him. In that time, whatever immunization to Taylor’s impact I’d gained had been lost. I stared up at Taylor, feeling his presence like a shock.

  “Well? Milo, I’m waiting.”

  I swallowed. “I didn’t say anything about you looking for a date—”

  “It’s heavily implied!”

  “I quoted you directly—”

  “And then undercut that immediately by talking about how new I am to high school life! You make it sound like I just need the right person to come along and change my mind!”

  I glanced around. Lily was staring. Students at the tables nearest us paused to watch us, but our quarrel had not reached the Spirit Squad at the front of the cafeteria. “You wanted me to write about the formal—”

  “About the formal! Not me! Since getting to school this morning, I haven’t had a minute to myself! I can’t even take a study break without someone interrupting—”

  “I’m generating interest in the formal! You’re interesting!” Taylor’s face was taking on a dangerous expression. I knew I should drop it, but somehow was unable to stop myself from talking. “We’re encouraging people to participate in the formal right? You and Fern are student leaders, and you’re leading by example by going to the formal, therefore you going to the formal is news!”

  “But can’t you write about it in a way that doesn’t focus on my love life?!” Taylor lowered his voice to hiss at me. “I had to turn three girls down this morning— three! One of them cried!”

  “If you’re worried about disappointing people, you should choose a date for the formal soon.” I resisted the urge to glance and see if Fern was watching this. “Fern’s single, and you already know her. Better ask her quickly before Declan does—”

  Taylor’s mouth thinned out into a flat line. “Why? So you can write about it in the paper?”

  “I—” My fight-or-flight reflex was jammed. I seemed to be stuck in one spot, watching as Taylor pushed the table aside and grabbed my arm.

  “If you’re that interested in my love life—” Taylor hauled me onto my feet so quickly that my head spun. I thought I was going to fall. Then I wasn’t thinking at all. Taylor’s mouth was on mine.

  The first moment of contact was so strong, my legs almost gave out. Taylor’s mouth was hot, his kiss forceful. Taken entirely unexpectedly, I clutched at his blazer to steady myself, bringing our bodies into collision. This second contact brought another surprise. Pressed against Taylor’s chest, I felt again the warmth of seeing him congratulated but stronger, so strong I couldn’t keep it in. I melted, relaxing against him.

  When I gave way, Taylor did too. His hold on my arm relaxed, and his mouth took on a softer aspect. His hand lingered on my side, and I shifted as he did, attuned to his presence. Suddenly, I understood. My interest in Taylor was not professional.

  There was a metallic clatter. Someone had dropped their fork.

  Taylor pushed me back.

  I lurched unsteadily, my mind struggling to process
what had happened. “What—”

  Taylor looked around the cafeteria. His gaze returned to me and his lip curled. “Write about that.” He shook off my arm and stalked out of the cafeteria.

  I think I tried to sit and missed. Next thing I knew, I was on my back on the floor of the cafeteria.

  “Geez, Milo. Are you okay?” Lily peered down at me. “Do you need the nurse?”

  “Nurse?”

  Candice bent over me. “Give me the headline.”

  “Uh.” It was a struggle to put words to what I’d just experienced. “Kiss or Out-of-Body Experience? Reporter Unsure.”

  “He’s fine,” Candice reported. “Let’s get him out of here.”

  The girls took an arm each and dragged me outside under the trees. I leaned against the cool stone of the school exterior, willing my heart to return to normal. “He kissed me. In the cafeteria.” I swallowed. “In front of everyone.”

  “Not quite everyone.” Candice hastily jotted down notes. “The seniors are in class. Not everyone eats lunch in the cafeteria. There’s still an audience—”

  Lily snorted, crossing her arms. “An outburst like that is not going to wait until your next issue.”

  Candice frowned at her notebook. “The angle—”

  “Was perfect.” Taylor had leaned toward me gently, his mouth firm but not insistent. My body had inclined the same way, as naturally as if I’d found a new center of gravity. I brushed my fingers against my mouth, checking that I hadn’t just imagined that.

  “Are you sure he’s okay?” Lily asked.

  “Okay is relative. The question here is why.”

  It slowly occurred to me that Candice and Lily were watching me. “Why?”

  “Why did Taylor kiss you? You’re not dating. There’s no way I wouldn’t know that you were dating.”

  “It’s Milo. There’s no way the entire school wouldn’t know if they were dating.” Lily folded her arms. “Taylor was annoyed about Milo’s articles. Looks like he got sick of people speculating, decided to give them something to speculate about.”

  I came down to earth with a thud. Lily was right. My gravitational axis might be askew, but there was nothing wrong with Taylor’s.

  “By kissing Milo?” Candice weighed me again. “They will definitely be asking questions now. Is Taylor gay?”

  “I— don’t know.” Someone as perfect as Taylor had to be straight. That was how things went. Toast falls butter side down, the day you forget your umbrella is the day it rains, the super-hot guy is never single. But that kiss—