by Rachel Wise
“Hearts can change,” Danny called as he ran back into his position on the field.
I looked over and saw that both Hailey and Michael were staring at me. Ugh! Hopefully Michael knew that it was all in good fun. But looking at the scrunched-up expression on his face, I had a feeling he didn’t.
It turned out that Mr. Trigg and I did seem to be sitting on the winning side, as West Hills got off a quick lead. Michael was pitching, but he definitely seemed off his game. I wondered if his arm still hadn’t recovered from the extra-inning shutout he had pitched last week.
In the first inning there were West Hills players on second and third with one out when Danny Stratham approached the plate. I cringed when he turned and pointed his bat at me. I wanted to melt into my seat when he hit the first pitch over the fence. West Hills 3, Cherry Valley 0.
“That was quite an impressive shot your friend hit,” Mr. Trigg observed.
“He’s not really my friend,” I corrected him. “Just an acquaintance. But I agree; it was impressive.”
The next three innings didn’t go much better. Michael really struggled on the mound, and it seemed like he couldn’t find the strike zone, as much as he tried. Danny continued to show off, making an incredible catch of a hard-hit line drive to end the third inning. I was worried he was going to toss the ball to me, but luckily he saved me from that embarrassment.
“I think I’m ready for a snack now,” I said to Mr. Trigg. “Would you like anything?”
“Thank you, Samantha, but I had a rather filling breakfast, so I’ll pass on the refreshments for the time being,” replied Mr. Trigg.
“I had a big breakfast, too, but I think it just made me hungrier.” I laughed.
I headed to the refreshment stand to grab a hot pretzel and a sports drink. I felt a little uncomfortable because all of the kids and parents on the Cherry Valley side were looking at me like I was a traitor, especially the girls from Hailey’s soccer team. I wish I could have been wearing a badge that said, “Impartial reporter, just trying to gather information about the other side.” I even thought about whispering it to one person and telling them to pass it around. I figured if things kept going the way they were going for Cherry Valley, Mr. Trigg and I were going to have to find new seats soon.
I got my snacks—plural, because I couldn’t resist grabbing a pack of red licorice—and started to climb back up the bleachers when I heard Danny Stratham calling my name again. This time, he was on the field. Actually, he was up at bat again, and he stopped the game to call my name. I tried to ignore him and continued climbing, but he just kept shouting my name even louder.
“Sam! Watch this!” Danny called while every Cherry Valley fan glared at me.
I turned around, hoping he would stop, and watched as he hit the ball right past the pitcher. Michael nearly caught it as it grazed right past his glove, but he didn’t, and Danny ran to first safely.
I tried to slink back to my seat, but stumbled and spilled my drink all over myself. A bunch of people on the Cherry Valley side laughed, and Hailey’s friends hooted and hollered like it was the funniest thing they had ever seen. I saw Hailey put her hands over her face. I guess she thought it was hysterical too.
I didn’t see the rest of the game. I was covered with blue drink, which was probably appropriate, because it matched the way I felt—blue. I went to my seat and explained to Mr. Trigg that I needed to go home and change. He understood and offered me a ride home, but I needed to walk off the embarrassment. I told him to enjoy the rest of the game; then I texted Mom to let her know I was on the way. I crept back down the bleachers and left the field, feeling as alone as I had all week.
Mom met me at the door. Somehow she was acting even more suspiciously than she had earlier. She was holding a new shirt in her hand.
“I’m sorry you didn’t have a great time,” she said. “I was really hoping you would.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “What’s with the shirt?”
“Oh, Mr. Trigg called and told me about your accident,” she said. “He said you needed to change.”
“I do,” I said. “But I can go upstairs and do that.”
“Oh no, don’t,” Mom said, opening the door to her office. “Just change in here. I thought we could run out and get some ice cream.”
“I don’t really feel like having another snack,” I said. “And why can’t I go upstairs?”
“Okay, I’ll confess,” Mom said. “Allie and I started working on your room. She had a great idea and wanted to surprise you. I think you’ll really like it.”
“Allie’s doing my room!” I cried. “What if I hate it?”
“If you do, we’ll do it over,” Mom said. “Just let her try, Sam. It really means a lot to her.”
“Fine.” I huffed. “But don’t think I will not call a do over. And now you owe me a triple-scoop cone.”
“You got it,” Mom said as she grabbed her car keys. “Now change your shirt and meet me in the car.”
Chapter 10
BIG SISTER FOR THE WIN!
I’m sure you’re wondering how I could control myself and not rush up the stairs to see what Allie was doing to my room. If it had happened at any other time, that’s probably exactly what I would do. But I was tired of fighting, and tired of being upset, so I thought it would be easier to just give in and let Mom buy me ice cream. I knew that whatever Allie did would look good, because it always does. I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be “me,” though.
I was 100 percent, absolutely, positively sure I was going to return and find my room bright and colorful and “sparkling with pizzazz,” and that even if it didn’t need a complete do over, I was going to have a lot of work to do to tone it down a few notches.
Mom stalled as much as she could. After ice cream, we stopped at the mall; then we went to the office supply store to pick up some ink and printing paper, and then finally we returned home. Allie was sitting at the kitchen counter, trying to look calm and cool, but I could tell she was really excited. I didn’t think I had it in me to hide how I would really feel.
“Close your eyes, Sam,” Allie said as she grabbed my hand.
She led me up the stairs, and we stopped at the entrance to my room.
“Okay, you can look now,” she said, clapping her hands with delight before I could even sneak a peek.
I actually gasped when I opened my eyes. It couldn’t have been more perfect if Allie had snuck into my brain and pulled out a vision of my perfect room.
Three of the walls were painted a grayish lavender. It was subtle; it was pretty; it was so, so me. Allie had stenciled words on the walls: “Dream” and “Write” and “Create.” The most shocking part was the fourth wall. It was my Maybe box. Allie had turned the whole wall into a collage with every scrap of paper, every movie ticket, every memory that was in the box. For the hundredth time that week, my eyes filled up with tears.
“You hate it,” Allie said. “I’m really sorry.”
I grabbed Allie and hugged her so tightly it hurt. I couldn’t stop crying, but I didn’t want to.
“It’s perfect,” I whispered.
I lifted my head and saw that Allie was smiling, but Mom was crying too.
“I thought it would be,” Allie said. “I love you, Sam. Even though we argue, even though we fight, ever though we’re probably as different as two sisters can be—I love you, okay? Always remember that. And I know that you’ve been going through some tough stuff lately, so I just wanted to make you happy.”
I smiled at her, and this time I didn’t have to force the edges of my mouth up. It was a real smile.
“I love it,” I said. “And I love you, too. You’re amazing.”
“Group hug,” Mom said, putting her arms around us.
The three of us stood there laughing and hugging and crying.
“It’s not finished yet,” Allie said. “We need to pick up some new furniture and accessorize and stuff, but I had this idea when I was going through your box and I
wanted to surprise you.”
“I’m surprised.” I laughed. “But if you don’t mind, there’s something I need to do.”
“Are you going to call Hailey?” Allie asked. “Because I don’t want to tell you what to do, but I do think you should.”
“No, I’m not,” I answered. “Not now, anyway.”
Mom and Allie went downstairs and I sat in the middle of my room for a minute, just to take it all in. I couldn’t wait to go to sleep that night, just so I could wake up and see it all again.
I turned on my computer and reopened the Dear Know-It-All document. I knew my first answer needed a revision.
Dear Tight Fit,
I don’t think you have to move on, but you can move forward. If you’re happy wearing the sweater, then I say don’t worry about what anyone thinks. But if you outgrow it, you could always turn the sweater into something else, like a big bag you can carry your stuff in, or mittens and a hat, or a throw pillow for your bed. This way you can keep it close to you all the time, just in a different way.
—Dear Know-It-All
On Monday morning, I got to school early so I could stop by Mr. Trigg’s office and apologize for leaving the game early. I handed in the Dear Know-It-All column and told him I had e-mailed my article draft to Michael and was waiting for his revision. I hadn’t heard a peep from him since the game.
I almost tripped over him in the hallway, though, but he ignored me and kept going. I could tell he was really upset, probably because he thought I was cheering for West Hills—and Danny Stratham. What was that advice you gave me about sharing your feelings, Michael Lawrence? I figured he needed a reminder, so I waited by his locker at the end of the school day.
He almost turned around and walked the other way after he saw me standing there, but then I could tell he realized how dumb that would look. I mean, it was his locker.
“Excuse me, Sam,” Michael said as he plopped his backpack on the floor.
“I know you’re upset,” I said. “I just wanted to explain.”
“Who said I’m upset?” Michael asked.
“No one said it, although you should,” I replied.
“Why should I?” questioned Michael.
“Because you’re not following your own advice,” I informed him. “You told me that I should just say how I’m feeling. But you’re not. So I’m going to tell you what happened, and you’re going to listen. And then if you’re still upset, fine.”
I explained why Mr. Trigg and I were sitting on the West Hills side of the bleachers and that I didn’t know why Danny acted like that to me, but probably a big factor was that he knew it bothered Michael, and that I left because I had spilled a drink all over myself and was embarrassed and I was upset that Hailey had laughed at me, not because of any other reason. I could see Michael listening closely, and I could tell he was feeling better about the whole situation.
“Well, thanks for explaining about the bleachers, because that did really upset me,” Michael admitted. “I can see Mr. Trigg’s point, but next time you come to my game, you better be a fan and not a reporter.”
“I promise,” I replied.
“And, Sam, honestly, if you like Danny Stratham, I understand,” he said. “A lot of girls do. He’s a pretty popular guy.”
“I think I told you this before, but I guess I need to repeat it,” I answered. “I do like Danny Stratham. He’s funny and he’s easy to talk to. But he can also be kind of a jerk. He’s not my friend. You are. And I don’t feel the same way about him as I do about you at all.”
Then I stopped. I figured that was a kind of subtle way to let Michael know that even though I considered him a friend, the way I felt about him was a little deeper than that, without having to embarrass myself and say it outright. Or at least I hoped it was subtle.
“You didn’t have to tell me that,” Michael said. “But it does make me feel better.”
He reached over and rumpled my hair again, and I knew that things were going to be back to normal for the best reporting duo Cherry Valley had ever seen. One down, one to go, I thought. Unfortunately, the one that was left was the really tough one.
Chapter 11
THE GREEN TEAM FACES OFF WITH THE VOICE
On Tuesday, Michael and I met after school to work on the final version of our Green Team article. He had a done a really good job revising it, and I could see it was a lot more balanced than my first draft had been. We proofread it one last time.
“I guess it’s all set for Trigg,” I said.
“Maybe not,” Michael replied. “I had an idea.”
Michael explained that he thought we should present our research at the next student government meeting and propose a compromise. Then we’d have a real ending to our story. It was a good plan, even if it meant facing Hailey.
We sat in the front row of the auditorium at Wednesday’s student government meeting. Mr. Trigg and the rest of the Voice staff joined us. Michael had already talked to Anthony about speaking, and Anthony called us up to the podium. We took turns presenting all our findings, summing up the information in our pro-versus-con chart.
“In conclusion,” I said, “we’d like to propose a compromise. We will publish a digital edition of the Cherry Valley Voice. We’d also like to continue to print a paper edition, but we’ll print fewer copies, so that only the students who really want a printed copy will get one. We’ll also look into printing on recycled paper. Even though it costs a little more money, we can publicize the fact that we are ‘going green,’ and maybe other newspapers will take notice. Mr. Trigg will help us with that.”
Michael and I went back to our seats, and Anthony returned to the podium.
“I think that Michael Lawrence and Samantha Martone have come up with an excellent compromise,” Anthony said. “My vote is in favor of it. Does anyone have any objections?”
I could see that Hailey was about to raise her hand, but she didn’t. I wondered why.
“Since there are no objections, the GO GO subcommittee will now work to help the Cherry Valley Voice publish both a print and a digital edition and will help the staff find good sources for environmentally friendly printing options,” Anthony concluded.
Hailey immediately got up, came over to Michael and me, and held out her hand.
“Congratulations,” she said coldly. “I hope a pile of paper was worth destroying our friendship over.”
Then she rushed out of the auditorium.
I was stunned. It would have hurt less if she had punched me.
“Ouch,” Michael said.
“I destroyed our friendship?” I gasped. “What is she talking about? She’s the one who came up with this whole GO GO idea.”
“You know, someone once gave me some very good advice,” Michael said.
“Let me guess. . . . I should tell her how I really feel.” I laughed.
“Great advice,” Michael noted. “Whoever came up with that should think about being a guidance counselor.”
I reached up and rumpled his hair the way he usually did to mine.
“Can you finish the article?” I called as I rushed down the aisle. “I’m going to be a little busy.”
I knew which way Hailey walked home, so I ran until I saw her up ahead.
“Hailey!” I yelled when I was close enough for her to hear me.
She didn’t stop walking.
“Hailey!” I yelled again.
She still didn’t stop.
I caught up to her and walked by her side, but she wouldn’t even turn to look at me.
“Hailey,” I said. “I just wanted to explain how I’ve been feeling.”
“I think you already did that pretty clearly,” Hailey replied.
“Huh?” I said, confused. “When did I do that?”
“Guess what? You win,” Hailey said, trying to imitate my voice.
That’s when it hit me. Hailey had gotten the e-mail that I’d written just to get my feelings off my chest, not to send her! I must have hit the
send key instead of hide screen when Allie had barged into my room.
“I don’t think you need to say anything more,” Hailey added. “You’ve said enough. And guess what? You did win. So just leave me alone.”
I really didn’t know what to say to her then. I had a whole bunch of feelings inside of me, and I wanted to get them out, but I also didn’t want to say anything without thinking about it first. Because obviously that strategy wasn’t very effective. So I just went with the only thing I could think of at the moment.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Then I turned around and headed home, alone again.
The rest of the week flew by. The newsroom was a flurry of activity as everyone was excited about the new digital publishing plan. Mr. Trigg invited some computer designers from the local paper to come in to show us some tricks. We had launched a digital version of the Voice a while back, but it was really basic. The computer designers gave us some tips on how to make our newspaper look really professional and great on-screen.
At home, the decorating committee was in full swing, and my room was looking even more amazing by the minute. Oh, and the sparkling with pizzazz design? Totally the new look for Allie’s room.
I was still searching for a way to solve the whole Hailey dilemma, though. I was past the point of being angry. I just wanted to find a way to put it all behind me so we could move on, whether we would ever be best friends again or not. It was so uncomfortable seeing each other around school. Now I knew that every time Hailey looked at me—even when she was surrounded by her friends—the look that she was giving me wasn’t spiteful. She seemed as upset as I was, and I really felt terrible about sending the e-mail. I had hurt my best friend as much as she had hurt me, and I didn’t know how to make it better.
I even told Michael all about the e-mail. Considering that we were calling ourselves friends now, and not just co-reporters, and considering that he had already cared enough to try to make things better between us, I thought he might have some more advice for me. He was stumped, though.
