“Someone in this room is taking stories from our summation reports and putting them online in a blog. And completely embarrassing us in front of the whole world,” she adds.
“I highly doubt the whole world is following the blog,” Billy pipes in.
“Why?” Talia glares at him. “Are you the one writing it?”
“No,” Billy answers quickly. “But I’ve read it. I’m just saying that the whole world doesn’t care about our class project.”
“Well, who’s doing it then?” Talia asks.
No one says a word.
Chas stands up at his desk and faces the class. “Whoever did that needs to take the blog down, a.s.a.p. We agreed that this was a class project. Not something to broadcast outside of the room. It’s a sucky thing to do.”
Fantastic. Chas thinks I suck. The me who writes the blog, anyway.
“Yeah,” others agree.
“Take it down!” Tony yells out in an angry voice.
“So it’s agreed,” Talia says. “Whoever put up the blog had better take it down today. Or, or…” she trails off. I don’t think she has anything to threaten us with. “Or you’re going to have a whole class of pissed-off people to deal with,” she finally says and then takes her seat.
Mrs. B. raises her eyebrows and stands. “Well, that was interesting,” she mumbles. “Okay, everyone take out a sheet of paper.”
I’m frozen to my seat. Darn, darn, darn. This isn’t good.
Chapter 18
I’m back from my afternoon latte run and trying to decide what to do with the rest of my free period. I can’t deny that I was pretty shaken up after IPC class this morning. I guess I didn’t expect the class to react so badly to the blog. Isn’t it essentially going along with the concept of the project? I’m increasing their celebrity. It’s like if they had a two-minute spot on a local cable channel that hardly anyone would see and then I just gave them bigger coverage by putting it on NBC during primetime. I would think they’d thank me. I thought for a bit about taking the blog down, especially since Chas was so against it. But when I checked it again, I was up to eight-hundred ninety-eight followers. People are flocking to it. Word probably spread after IPC class this morning.
I could take more pictures, but most of the celebrities are in class now. I have some good shots to show Chas later, like the one I got of Tony Hernandez at lunch. He dropped a greasy piece of pizza on his lap, toppings down, and let out a long string of swear words when he did it. It was pretty funny. He covered the front of his pants with both of his hands and ran to the boys’ bathroom to clean up. Poor guy is such a sloppy eater. And I did manage to get pictures of Madison looking annoyed this morning. I think it’s because she forgot her homework. She was rifling through her backpack at the time, so when I took the picture I just made sure not to get her hands in the shot. And I got a good one of Garret staring out the window of his parent’s car when he got dropped off for school. His mom must have been lecturing him about something, because her hands were flying all over the place as she talked and he just moodily stared out the window. I feel like I should be getting more on Denise, though I’m not sure what to look for. I know Tessa doesn’t want me to touch her cheating scandal. She wants to figure out a way to get back at Mike for that on her own. Denise does have gym class this period so maybe I’ll just go hang out on the bleachers and see if there’s anything at all I can get a picture of.
I take a seat in the gym bleachers and sip my latte, watching the students run laps around the gym. There are a few other people hanging out in here, doing homework or just chatting with friends. No one really cares if you hang out in here during class as long as you’re not on the gym floor.
The boys’ and girls’ gym teachers are standing in the middle of the gym talking. Then one teacher announces that they’re going to be doing mixed doubles today for badminton. I watch Denise. While most girls put their hair up for gym Denise has got hers all loose and crazy. It would drive me completely bonkers if I had that much hair.
The students split off onto their different courts, and Denise is playing with a senior guy, a really cute one. He’s a good five or six inches taller than she is and has shaggy blonde hair and a big dimple in his chin. Denise is smiling at him. I don’t think she’s too upset that they got paired together.
The games start, and Denise is doing awful. She can’t hit the birdie whatsoever. She’s swinging all over the place like she hasn’t a clue how to hold a badminton racquet—and badminton is pretty much the easiest gym sport ever invented, so I don’t know how she’s come this far in life without mastering the art of getting the birdie over the net. Her partner walks over to give her some instructions and wraps his arms around hers, showing her how to swing the racquet.
And it hits me. A completely brilliant plan. I pull out my camera, zoom in on Denise and her badminton partner, and snap away.
After school I head for the library to meet Chas. He’s already busily working away on his laptop but looks up when I slide into the seat next to him.
“Hey, Livvie,” he says. He reaches up and gives my neck a squeeze, and I practically melt into a puddle right there.
“Hi Chas,” I say, maybe a little too dreamily. Toughen up, toughen up, I scold myself. Just keep repeating, guys don’t like desperate. “So you’re already working on a story?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I thought I’d get a move on with this Garret and Madison story. I overheard one of the other tabloid guys talking about a possible Garrison break up in my history class today. I don’t want someone else to get our scoop.”
“Well, it’s not like it can be helped. I mean, everyone can see the same signs. And you know lots of tabloids do run the same story.”
“I know,” he says. “But I want this to be our big feature story for the week. And I don’t want that stupid Tattler blog to put it up first either.”
Stupid blog. Ugh.
“Read what I’ve got so far,” he says.
I point his laptop in my direction and read.
Separation Shocker: Garrison Calling it Quits
In what has become an almost too familiar scene this past week, Madison Campbell flung her untouched lunch into a nearby garbage can Monday afternoon and ran from the cafeteria, covering her eyes with both hands. “She was sobbing pretty badly,” an eyewitness tells us. “She’d been talking to Garret Young and his face was red, like he’d just been yelling at her. She looked really upset.” And this wouldn’t be the first time Garret has screamed at Madison in public. “Madison has been so sad lately,” an insider and close friend to the couple tells us. “She seems lonely and distant, almost like she’s lost. I don’t think this relationship is good for her.” The friend goes on to say that Madison tried to tell Garret how she felt about what he was doing to her, but he just kept telling her she was making a big deal out of nothing and over-exaggerating the situation. “She didn’t like hearing that one bit,” the friend confirms. Dr. R.O. Vernin, a clinical psychologist who has not treated Madison Campbell, says that, “Trivializing one’s emotions is a warning sign of emotional abuse. Miss Campbell should seek counseling for herself and possibly also consider attending sessions with Mr. Young.” But will Madison get the help she so desperately needs? We’ll just have to wait and see and hope that it’s not too late.
-Chas Montgomery
I finish reading the last sentence and shake my head. “Oh my gosh, Chas! You’re getting way too good at this. It’s brilliant!”
Chas gives me an enormous toothy grin. “Thanks. It was a lot of fun to write, actually. Then I was thinking I’d put your photos in a sort of timeline across the top and date each one a few days apart. You know, to show the fall of the relationship over time. Did you get some good shots for me?”
I’m still looking at the laptop. Man, that was a good article. “What?” I look up at him. “Oh, yeah! I did, I did. Here, let me show you what I’ve got.” I pop my card into his laptop and bring up the pictures I’ve taken.
<
br /> “These shots are perfect,” Chas says when he finishes going through all of my pictures of Garret and Madison. “We’re going to look like such professionals. I can’t wait for Friday.”
“I definitely think our report will be the best. And I have some of Denise Bengston that I want to show you too.”
I explain my idea for the Denise piece and help Chas write the text to accompany the shots. I can hardly wait to see her face in class this Friday when Chas presents our report.
Chapter 19
The week flies by, and I’m majorly TGIF-ing. Partly because our report for IPC class today is so, so good and partly because tonight is my second date with Chas. I’m less nervous than last week because Chas has to be into me at least a little to be willing to deal with my crazy mother a second time. But I can’t stop thinking about what Tessa had said about our first kiss and how if he doesn’t make a move on me tonight, he doesn’t really like me. At this point I just want to get the first kiss over and done with. I’ve been conditioning my lips three times a day with a special lip balm so I’m ready to go in that department. I just need to remain cool and not do anything lame, like make sucking noises or burp in his mouth. Ew, that would be awful. I’d better be extra careful to avoid all carbonated beverages tonight.
I arrive to IPC, and Chas is waiting for me in the hallway. He looks really happy. “You excited?” he asks me.
“Yeah, I can’t wait,” I reply.
“I saw Jace and Holly’s reports, and they’re nowhere near as good as ours.” He puts his hand in the air for a high five. I slap his hand with mine but don’t pull it away right away. Oh my gosh, I’m either brave or stupid. He doesn’t seem to mind though because the next thing I know, he laces his fingers through mine and pulls our hands down to a comfortable handholding position. Yeah. Where everyone can see us.
“Let’s go in.” He gives my hand a gentle tug in the direction of the classroom.
I let him lead me in, grinning from ear to ear. We look so together right now. Everyone’s thinking, Oh, Livvie? Yeah, she’s with Chas.
This is awesome.
We take our seats, and Mrs. B. starts class. Everyone is anxious for the summation reports to start. Fridays are so fun. It’s like getting an hour during the school day to sit around gossiping with your friends and get rewarded for it. I overhear a couple of girls whispering with Talia about the blog, and Talia frowns and glances around the room. I guess she’s annoyed I didn’t take it down immediately as she’d instructed.
The reports begin, and Chas was right. Another group did say something about Garret and Madison but only that they were spotted fighting. Not the class-breaking scoop we’ve got that they’re breaking up.
I look around the room and am momentarily panicked. Where’s Denise? She’s not in class today! It’s okay, I tell myself. I don’t actually need her here to carry out the plan. She’ll hear all about it by the time I’m done, I’m quite sure. I filled Tessa in on it on the phone last night, and she’s giddy for the fallout and preparing on her end.
It’s Chas’s turn to give our report. He stands confidently in the front of the room. “This week we’re starting off with a feature story, Separation Shocker: Garrison Calling it Quits.”
I glance at Garret and Madison; they’re both sitting stiffly in their chairs. Their body language neither confirms nor denies Chas’s claims.
Chas begins reading through his article. The class seems to be enjoying it. Even Mrs. B. let out a small giggle at one part. The only ones not enjoying it are Garret and Madison. He’s clenching his fist and hitting the table repeatedly, and she’s letting out a series of disapproving sounds: “Uh! Wh—? No! Ohmigod. Huh?”
Chas starts reading the captions under each picture, and Madison can’t sit still any longer.
“He’s totally lying!” she yells out. The whole class turns to look at her. “That’s not a picture of me upset after another falling out with Garret! Livvie took that when I was doing my homework in the cafeteria. I was working on a really hard math problem.”
I put on my most innocent face and stare straight ahead, even though everyone is looking at me. No comment.
“And that’s not a picture of me rubbing my fist after punching a wall in anger,” Garret says. “I was rubbing lotion on my hands.” A few classmates snicker. “What?” Garret says. “I get dry skin this time of year.”
“Mrs. B.,” Madison interrupts. “They can’t put these lies in their report, can they? Couldn’t we sue them for, what’s it called, libel?”
“Let’s talk about this,” Mrs. B. says, standing and joining Chas at the front of the room.
My heart is racing. I couldn’t really get in trouble, could I? My mom would kill me if I got sued. I look at Chas, and he returns a toothy smile. He’s cool as a cucumber. How the heck does he do it?
“Think about all of the tabloids at the grocery store checkout stands these days. Tony, how many would you say there are?” Mrs. B. asks, turning toward him.
“I don’t read tabloids,” Tony replies, folding his arms on his chest.
“Noted,” Mrs. B. says. “Now, how many would you say there are?”
“Seven to ten. Give or take,” he says with a shrug.
“Okay,” Mrs. B. says, “and from them, how many do you think printed a story on Brad and Angelina this week?”
“Seven to ten,” Tony repeats.
“Good. Class, can anyone tell me one reason why Brad and Angelina might not sue?” Mrs. B. asks.
“Because they’d be in court every day for the rest of their lives,” Talia interjects. “Ten tabloids times fifty-two weeks a year might bring five-hundred twenty lawsuits.”
There are gasps and wows around the room.
“Five-hundred twenty lawsuits is crazy!” Garret says.
“Not to mention expensive—both in the monetary sense as well as the emotional,” Mrs. B. replies. “Most people know tabloids aren’t known for their fact-checking nor considered a reliable source. Most celebrities simply ignore them. Now, if it were a more reputable source printing the story—say, the New York Times—then you’d likely see more lawsuits.”
“But let’s say,” she continues, “that there is something so heinous printed that the celebrity does want to invest in the possible year-long process of suing a tabloid. Why would she have a difficult time proving her case? Anyone?”
Nobody answers. That’s a hard question.
“Come on,” Mrs. B. urges. “Think about it.”
Finally, a quiet girl and tabloid contact, Mia, raises her hand. “Is it something to do with having to prove their guilt?”
Mrs. B. claps her hands together in delight. “Good, Mia. Yes, the celebrity can say the tabloid printed something untrue, but they have to prove that they knew it was untrue. So say a celebrity nanny comes to a tabloid with a big scoop. The tabloid can print it because as far as they know, it’s true. The celebrity has to prove that the tabloid printed the article knowing that it was untrue.”
“That totally sucks,” Madison says, clearly frustrated.
Mrs. B. nods. “A bit. Now you can see what my dear friend, Karlie Kane, goes through on a daily basis. It’s not fair. But it’s considered entertainment. As long as we keep consuming it, the tabloids will keep feeding it to us.”
The mood of the room is completely different than it had been only ten minutes ago. Everyone seems more worked up after talking about lawsuits and the unfairness of tabloids getting to lie about people day in and day out. But Chas still needs to finish our report, and this makes for an awkward transition back to it. Mrs. B., takes her seat, and Chas clears his throat a few times and shuffles through the report like he’s lost his place. He finally begins and gets right to the part of the report I’ve been waiting for: Denise Bengston.
The title, New Man for Denise, appears on the screen in giant letters. Then the pictures. First the one of Denise and the hot senior guy, who upon digging we’ve discovered is named John Jones, with his ar
ms wrapped around her. We cropped out the badminton racquets so it looks like the two of them are having a tender moment, rather than John teaching Denise how to swing the racquet. And then the awesome picture of Denise examining her hickey in the mirror. Students start whistling and laughing. The class is loving it! The anger of a few minutes ago has been temporarily forgotten, and everyone is wrapped back up in the possibility of a new scandal. People look around for Denise, but she’s not here to revel in the moment. But like I had said, we don’t need her here for this plan to work.
Chapter 20
After IPC class lets out, Chas walks me to my Chemistry class, talking a mile a minute the entire way.
“Ours was seriously the best,” he says for the third time in the last two minutes. “I don’t know how we’re going to top it next week, but we’ve got to try.”
I look over at Chas. He’s wearing a deep royal blue polo shirt, untucked, and loose-fitting dark-washed jeans. He looks so good. “We’ll figure it out,” I say reassuringly.
We reach my class.
“So, I’m picking you up at seven tonight, right?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I can hardly wait. I hope he doesn’t change clothes. The contrast between his dark black hair and the shirt is awesome. I, on the other hand, must find something exceedingly cute to wear from my closet. Or maybe Tessa’s, if I come up empty-handed.
“Okay, see you then.” He leans down, gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and retreats down the hallway. I reach up and touch my face. He kissed me! Does that count as a real kiss though? I bet Tessa would say it doesn’t. She’d say he probably kisses his eighty-five-year-old great aunt like that too. Oh no, does he think of me like an old great aunt? Ick, I hope not.
I don’t have too long to think about this because I promised Tessa I’d carry out the next step of our plan. I’m already going to be late to Chemistry but I don’t have to waste even more time just standing around. I walk as fast as I can back to the junior hallway and search for Mike’s locker. Once I locate it, I pull out the story about Denise from our summation report and slip it into the open slots on the door. I wish I could see his face when he reads this.
The Paparazzi Project Page 10
