Carole shook her head, her eyes widening. “Wow. Talk about a bombshell.”
“I know.” Lisa sighed. “But I’ll fill you in on all that later when we have more time to talk. Right now, the major news flash is that Rafe dumped Mom while I was away.”
“Really?” Carole said, not certain how she should respond. Lisa’s mother had been dating a much younger man named Rafe for a while now—Carole had lost track of how long. But she knew that Lisa had never liked him. So why did she actually seem upset that he was out of her mother’s life?
“Uh-huh. She took it kind of hard.” Lisa bit her lip, casting her eyes downward as she walked, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “She’s pretty bummed.”
“Oh.” Now Carole understood. After the breakup of her twenty-seven-year marriage, Mrs. Atwood had been deeply depressed for a very long time. Inappropriate or not, her relationship with Rafe had snapped her out of her gloom and made her start living life again.
“It’s not like I miss having Rafe around or anything, but I really wish Mom had dumped him instead of the other way around,” Lisa commented, pausing and bending over to smooth out one of her leggings, which was slightly bunched above the top of her left ankle boot.
“Hey, Atwood! Looking good, sweet thang.” A popular senior named Nate Mondale grinned and winked at Lisa as he loped past into a nearby classroom.
The only indication that Lisa had heard the comment was a slight pink flush that colored her high cheekbones as she straightened up. Carole had always known that her friend was beautiful—she’d had guys asking her out for as long as Carole had known her. Even her long-term relationship with Alex didn’t stop guys like Nate from lusting after her.
I guess that’s another way the three of us are different, Carole thought, not for the first time. She glanced at her friend out of the corner of her eye. Lisa’s always been a man magnet, with guys falling all over themselves to be with her. Stevie’s always been kind of a tomboy, so lots of guys have liked her, too. But Stevie went out and found the perfect guy for her, and they’re practically an old married couple by now. Lisa and Alex hooked up, and they’ve been living happily ever after. And then there’s me: Ms. Pathetic.
For about the millionth time in the past couple of weeks, she thought about Ben Marlow. She’d known Ben for more than a year and a half, ever since he’d started working as a stable hand at Pine Hollow. But even after all that time, she still had no idea what she thought of him. Or what she felt about him. The only thing she knew for sure was that she felt something. But was it merely friendship born of their mutual love of horses, of admiration and respect for Ben’s immense talent in communicating with his favorite animals? Or could there be something more between them?
For a long time, Carole hadn’t really thought much about it. She’d never been that comfortable when it came to dating and romance, and it had seemed easier just to accept that she and Ben were friends and coworkers without worrying about the strange feelings she sometimes had when she saw him.
Then Ben had kissed her and everything had changed. Now she couldn’t look at him or even think about him without blushing and feeling uncomfortable, especially since Ben himself seemed determined to pretend that it had never happened. To make matters even more complicated, Carole had recently discovered that Ben was somehow related to an intriguing little girl with huge, dark eyes. But little Zani seemed to be one more topic that Ben wasn’t interested in discussing with Carole. So she still had no more idea of who the four-year-old child was than she knew what Ben really thought of her.…
Glancing over at Lisa to see if she’d noticed her consternation, Carole saw that her friend was looking anxious, probably still thinking about her mother. That seemed to be Carole’s cue to change the subject—for both their sakes. The first new topic that sprang to mind was one that was never far from Carole’s heart. “Have you been to Pine Hollow since you got back?” she asked as they reached the door to Carole’s classroom.
Lisa nodded. “Alex and I met there yesterday for a ride,” she said. “Stevie was there, too.” She shot Carole a quick glance. “But it just wasn’t the same without you.”
“Thanks.” Carole shrugged and sighed. “You know, I feel like it’s been forever since I was there. I still can’t believe how much longer I have to stay away.” Not wanting her friend to think she was complaining—after all, she’d brought this punishment on herself by cheating on that test—she cleared her throat. “Um, but I’m trying to look on the bright side,” she said. “I figure since I can’t ride for a while, at least I can spend the time being, you know, constructive. I want to try to figure out what I really want to do with my life. You know, specifically.”
“Really?” Lisa looked surprised. “Hey, good for you. So have you narrowed it down yet?”
“No,” Carole admitted. “I’m trying, but I’m not quite sure how to go about it. The only thing I’m sure about is that I’m seventeen years old now, and it’s definitely time to get a clue.”
Lisa nodded thoughtfully. “I know what you mean. Maybe you could start by listing all the careers you can think of,” she suggested.
“That’s mostly what I’ve been doing so far.”
“Good,” Lisa said. “When you have the whole list of possibilities, you can figure out the pros and cons of each one. That way you can maybe start to eliminate some of the ones with way more cons and think more seriously about the ones that are mostly pros.” She shrugged. “That’s basically how I did it when I decided where to go to college. When I decided the pros of NVU were totally overwhelming, my mind was made up.”
Carole couldn’t help thinking that deciding her entire future sounded like a huge and daunting task, no matter how organized she was about it. But before she could figure out how to express that to Lisa, the bell rang, signaling that third period was about to begin. “Oops,” she said. “Better go. See you later.” Pushing the future out of her head—for the moment, at least—she hurried into her classroom.
TWO
“And of course, one always has a responsibility to one’s sources,” Theresa said somberly.
Stevie nodded, wondering if the editor could hear her stomach grumbling. She’d hurried straight to their meeting from her fourth-period class, not even bothering to stop at her locker and pick up her bag lunch. It was rapidly becoming clear that that had been a big mistake. Theresa had been droning on and on about journalistic ethics for almost five minutes straight, and Stevie had hardly been able to get a word in edgewise.
“Okay,” she broke in as Theresa paused for breath. “I get it. Following the rules is key. But what about the good stuff? As in the writing and reporting of actual stories? Isn’t that kind of the point of the whole deal?”
Theresa blinked. “Well, yes,” she allowed. “But there’s a lot more that goes into a good newspaper than just what gets printed on the page. If all The Wall Street Journal paid attention to was writing and reporting, it wouldn’t be the great publication it is. And a good newspaperman or woman should be familiar with all aspects of the news business, from financing to circulation to how the ink gets into the presses.”
“Right,” Stevie said, her voice firmer this time. “That’s all, like, really interesting and everything. And maybe we can talk about it some more later. I’d love to learn all about the news biz. But for now, I really want to move on to what I can do for the Sentinel. As in, how to get started.”
“Of course,” Theresa said. “I was just getting to that. I thought you could start right away—”
“Great!” Stevie interrupted eagerly.
Theresa nodded. “Yes, I’d love for you to jump right in and assist with proofreading this week’s issue, and we can always use help with distribution once the papers are printed. Do you have a way to get to school early on Friday? Say, around six-thirty?”
Stevie blinked. “Huh? Um, maybe I wasn’t that clear before,” she said. “But when I said I wanted to join the paper, I meant I wanted to write
for the paper. Not proofread and do that other stuff.”
“I realize that. But every good journalist has to pay his or her dues,” Theresa said, her gaze slightly reproachful. “Besides, proofreading and distribution are vitally important jobs. If they don’t get done, there’s no paper. At least no paper worth reading.”
Stevie had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Distribution and proofreading might be “vitally important,” but they also sounded vitally boring. Still, she didn’t want to alienate her new editor by saying so. “All right,” she said appeasingly. “Um, I’m sure I could squeeze in some distribution time before school on Friday or whatever. But can’t I do some writing at the same time? How am I going to get any useful experience if you don’t even give me a shot?”
Theresa shrugged. “You make a valid point, Stevie. I suppose in a week or two, if all goes well, we could meet again and talk about your taking over a couple of small writing tasks, just to see how you do.”
Stevie started to smile. Finally! she thought. Now we’re getting somewhere.
Theresa rubbed her cheek thoughtfully. “I suppose we could let you try writing out the weekly lunch menus. Or maybe you could edit the classified ads—you know, call the numbers to make sure they’re legit, check the wording and spelling, that sort of thing.”
Stevie’s smile faded quickly. But before she could say anything, she was interrupted by the loud, staticky crackle of the PA speaker over the door. “Attention!” the tinny voice of their headmistress, Miss Fenton, announced. “Attention, students. I would like all juniors to finish their lunches quickly and come to the auditorium for a special assembly. That’s juniors only, please. To the auditorium immediately. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“I guess I’d better go,” Stevie told Theresa, a little relieved to have their meeting cut short.
So much for my high-flying career as a star reporter, she thought grimly as she stood and grabbed her backpack. Thanks to Theresa, it’s totally stalling on the runway. Still, maybe this assembly will give me a chance to come up with a plan to convince her what a waste it will be if all I get to do for the next six months is hunch over somebody else’s breaking news story with a dictionary and a grammar handbook.
As she hurried down the empty third-floor hallway toward the stairs, Stevie wondered what the sudden assembly was all about. It wasn’t like Miss Fenton to be so mysterious.
It’s for juniors only, she reminded herself as she rounded the corner into the stairwell. That means it’s probably got something to do with the PSATs or something like that. Miss Fenton probably wants to call us together to announce that Sue Berry got the highest score in the history of the world, or maybe to humiliate us all by reading off our scores in front of the whole class.
She was only kidding about that last part. The scores for the standardized college-entrance prep test that all juniors had taken earlier that fall would be sent directly to their homes. In fact, now that Stevie thought about it, they were probably due to arrive any day now.
Oh, well, Stevie thought. I just hope Alex and I did respectably enough that Mom and Dad won’t ground us all over again. Taking the last three steps in one jump, she scooted around the corner on the second-floor landing and started down the next flight.
The auditorium was on the first floor, just down the hall from the school cafeteria, so Stevie was one of the last to arrive. As she paused in the wide, arched entrance, glancing around for a free seat, she spotted Callie waving to her from near the front of the large, cavernous room.
As Stevie hurried toward her friend, she was so distracted by thinking about her meeting with Theresa that it took her a moment or two to recognize the slightly desperate expression on Callie’s face. Then she noticed the pudgy, moon-faced guy sitting next to her.
Yikes, she thought. Looks like George has Callie cornered again. No wonder she’s making like a windmill to get me over there.
Stevie was happy to come to her friend’s rescue if she could, even though she still didn’t quite get why Callie wouldn’t just tell George to get lost. It wasn’t as though Callie had trouble speaking her mind. At first Stevie had thought there might be a chance that the mismatched pair would hit it off—both were smart, both were excellent riders. And despite the slender, cool good looks that guaranteed Callie the attention of just about any guy she wanted, she had already proved herself willing to risk gossip and ridicule by going to a school dance with the short, dumpy, unpopular George. But after that one evening, Callie had decided that the two of them should just be friends. So why didn’t George seem to be getting the hint?
Stevie didn’t worry about that for long. As she reached the row where Callie and George were sitting, she saw that Alex was sitting in the row right behind them with a few of his soccer teammates. “Glad you could make it, sis,” he greeted her, smacking the back of the empty seat beside Callie. “We saved you a seat.”
“Thanks.” Stevie slid into the seat just as Miss Fenton strode out onto the creaky wooden stage and clapped her hands for attention.
“Thank you for your quick response, students,” the headmistress said in her reedy voice. “I’m sure you’ll be as excited as I am when you hear why I’ve gathered you all together.”
“Early graduation?” Alex whispered loudly, making his soccer friends snort with laughter. Stevie sank down in her seat to hide her own grin.
Miss Fenton shot a sharp glance their way, then continued. “We’re going to be trying an experiment this year. It’s a social studies project that’s had interesting results in several schools in other parts of the state, and I think it’s time for Fenton Hall to give it a try.”
Stevie exchanged curious glances with Callie. What kind of project was Miss Fenton talking about? All around them, other students were murmuring to each other, obviously wondering the same thing.
The headmistress didn’t keep them in suspense. “It’s called Junior Family Week,” she announced. “It’s a role-playing project where you will all act the part of responsible married adults for the next five days.”
“Married?” someone yelped from a couple of rows behind Stevie. “My parents won’t even let me date yet!”
The entire auditorium erupted in laughter. Even Miss Fenton smiled. Meanwhile, Stevie craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the girl who’d called out. “I bet that was Lorraine Olsen,” she told Callie with a grin. “She’s always complaining about not being able to date. But actually, her folks just won’t let her go anywhere with a guy in a car. She could go on three dates in one day, as long as she was willing to walk.”
Callie smiled briefly, but Stevie couldn’t help noticing that she seemed distracted. With a shrug, Stevie returned her attention to the stage.
“All right, all right,” Miss Fenton called, raising her hands for order. Finally, when everyone had settled down, she continued. “Now, let me tell you how the project will work. You’ll be divided into couples, and each couple will be expected to complete a variety of exercises designed to teach a range of life skills.”
Stevie wrinkled her nose at that, thinking that Junior Family Week sounded pretty goofy so far. What kind of “life skills” does it take to be married? she thought. I mean, fall in love, tie the knot, move in together, take turns cooking dinner. Big fat whopping deal.
“The project will begin this afternoon,” Miss Fenton went on. “Instead of going to your regular seventh-period classes, you should all return here to the auditorium for our first Family Week meeting. For the remainder of the week, the meetings will take place during a different class period each day.”
“All right!” Alex exclaimed. “No seventh period? That means no trig quiz this week. I’m loving this marriage project already!”
Stevie couldn’t help agreeing with her twin on that one. “A period off from regular classes every day?” she whispered to Callie gleefully. “Cool deal! I just wish Phil went to school here. It’d be kind of fun to play house with him.” She grinned wickedly.
Once again, Callie forced herself to smile back. But her mind really wasn’t on Stevie and her boyfriend. Instead, she was very aware of George’s arm lying casually on the armrest just inches from her body. She kept her gaze straight ahead, focused on the stage, but she could almost feel George glancing her way every two seconds. Why hadn’t she tried harder to avoid sitting with him in this assembly?
Miss Fenton was still talking, explaining that several expert speakers would be coming to the school over the course of the week to talk to them about different aspects of marriage and family life. She also listed some of the assignments they would have to complete, from making choices about jobs and children to making a household budget.
But Callie wasn’t really paying attention. She was too busy dreading the next few minutes. She could picture it now—knowing George, he would probably be down on one knee as soon as Miss Fenton gave the word to divide into couples, begging for her hand in fake marriage. Of course, that’s only if we get to pick our own partners, Callie thought, a spark of hope flaring in her mind. And how likely is that? The last thing Miss Fenton would want is a bunch of real-life couples feeling like they had permission to “play house,” as Stevie put it.
Someone raised a hand from near the back of the auditorium. “Yes, Veronica?” Miss Fenton said, pointing. “Do you have a question?”
“Yes, Miss Fenton,” Veronica diAngelo replied. “Are we going to get a grade for this project?”
“Figures that would be her first question,” Stevie murmured with a grimace. “All she cares about is what’s in it for her.”
Callie shrugged. She wasn’t crazy about Veronica, but she had to admit that she admired the other girl’s directness and self-confidence. “I wonder how they’re going to choose our partners?” she whispered to Stevie, making certain to keep her voice low so that George wouldn’t overhear. “I mean, is Miss Fenton going to assign them, or …”
“Good question!” Stevie raised her hand before Callie could even finish, waving it back and forth over her head as Miss Fenton explained that while each couple would receive a rating at the end of the week, it wouldn’t count toward any actual grades since the project was just an experiment that year.
Cross-Ties Page 19
