by Piper Banks
“I think that’s everyone,” Candace said, putting down her notepad. “Let me know if you’d like to bounce any ideas off me. You can also talk to Mrs. Gordon. She’s agreed to be our faculty adviser again this year. Her phone number is written on the whiteboard. She said to feel free to call her at home if you need any help or advice.”
Wait, I thought. Wait! What about me? I hadn’t been assigned a piece.
I looked around, trying to see whether anyone else had been left out—or noticed that my name hadn’t been called—but the rest of the staff was now chatting excitedly, all eager to get to work on their articles. Apparently, I had been the only one left out. Self-doubt suddenly cratered inside of me. What if there had been some sort of a mistake when I got the letter welcoming me to The Ampersand staff?
Feeling like my legs had turned into wood, I made my way up to the front of the room, where Candace stood talking to Peter Rossi. I waited while Peter went on and on about his plan to enroll in an SAT prep course—even though he’d taken the test the year before—in order to get the inside scoop on what promises were being made to students.
Candace nodded a few times as he spoke, and when it became clear that he wasn’t planning on winding down anytime soon, she finally broke in. “The problem is that I need the article in two weeks, so there probably isn’t time for you to take the course. Instead, why don’t you start by interviewing students who signed up for it last year?”
Peter looked let down—clearly he’d been relishing the idea of going undercover—but he finally agreed that considering the time limitation, this was probably the best course of action, and then he rejoined Coleen at their table. Candace turned to look at me.
“Hi,” I said. “I, um, didn’t get an assignment.”
“You didn’t?” Candace picked up her notepad and frowned down at it. “You’re Miranda Bloom, right?”
“That’s right,” I said, feeling a combination of nerves over what was going to happen with my assignment and relief that at least Candace hadn’t immediately told me that there must have been a mistake, because I wasn’t on The Ampersand staff.
“Oh, right, here you are,” Candace said, tapping the list with one finger. “I assigned you the piece on student athletes.”
“Student athletes?” I repeated.
“Sure. You can pick the direction you want to go in. It can be an interview, or, if you want to stay on theme, a look at the problems facing student athletes. Whichever you want.”
My first reaction was confusion. What sort of problems did student athletes face? Limited hot water in the showers? Too many pretty cheerleaders distracting them? And Geek High didn’t even have student athletes. Not really. The only sports teams we had were golf and tennis, and neither was very good.
“The main thing is, I need you to keep it short. I need only five hundred words, maximum. It’s basically going to be a filler item,” Candace continued.
“Right,” I said, absorbing this newest blow. Tabitha Stone got the fiction feature. Marc and Padma were assigned the second-most-important feature article. I got five hundred words to be used as filler. It would probably be stuck somewhere in the back of the magazine, on the same page as an advertisement for car insurance.
“Are you all set? You know what you’re doing?” Candace asked.
I nodded, wondering whether I looked as disappointed as I felt.
“Great,” Candace said, and she turned to talk to Padma, who had lined up behind me, eagerly waiting to discuss her new story assignment with the editor in chief.
“You’re upset,” Charlie said.
I nodded and stared gloomily down at my coffee mug. I’d called Charlie after the disastrous Ampersand meeting, and we’d arranged to meet at our favorite coffee shop, Grounded.
“I got the worst assignment,” I said. “And meanwhile, everyone else—Tabitha, Padma, Marc, everyone—got great ones.”
“Come on, not everyone,” Charlie said. “There are always lots of short pieces in The Ampersand. You can’t be the only one who was assigned one.”
Typical Charlie, I thought. She had a habit of being annoyingly reasonable.
I shrugged. “Well, maybe not everyone got a great assignment. But I definitely got the worst one,” I said grudgingly.
Charlie ran a hand through her green hair, which caused it to stick up on end like a troll doll. Somehow, she still managed to look adorable.
“What you have to do is spin this in your favor,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
“Knock your article out of the park. Make it a slam dunk. Drive it off the tee.” Charlie giggled, amused by her own sports-related metaphors. I shot her my best death-ray glare. “Seriously, Miranda. Look at this as an opportunity to impress your editor. If you ace this assignment—” She dissolved into giggles again.
I stood up. “If you’re going to keep making sports jokes, I’m leaving.”
“Okay, I promise I’ll stop now,” Charlie said.
I sat back down.
“What I’m trying to say is, if you do really well on this article, I’m sure Candace will give you a better assignment next time.”
“How, exactly, am I supposed to impress her with a filler piece on a problem facing nonexistent student athletes? I can hardly do an exposé on steroid use in five hundred words,” I complained.
“You’ll think of something,” Charlie said.
“How? I’ve got nothing. Seriously, I’m drawing a complete blank.”
“Well, when I’m in the middle of a painting and get stuck, sometimes it helps if I put it aside and don’t think about it for a while,” Charlie suggested.
“So I’m supposed to think up a great idea by not thinking about it?” I asked doubtfully.
“The idea is that your subconscious mind continues to engage, while you distract your conscious mind. And then when you’re feeling happy and relaxed, good ideas will start flowing in,” Charlie said.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Try it. It works for me,” Charlie said.
The bell that hung on the glass-front door jingled. Charlie, who was facing toward the door, looked up. Her expression darkened. I twisted around in my seat to see who had come in. It was Finn, who had one long arm slung awkwardly around Phoebe’s shoulders.
“Great,” Charlie said. “Just what I need.”
Finn’s girlfriend was tall with long legs, which she was showing off in a very short cheerleader’s outfit, and shoulder-length red hair that was pulled back in a high, bouncy ponytail secured with a blue ribbon. She was looking up at Finn and giggling at whatever he was saying.
“Does that girl ever stop laughing?” Charlie asked, her tone caustic.
“She does seem very happy,” I said.
Charlie snorted. “I’ve met Barbie dolls who are more on the ball than that chick. She’s so vapid, she makes me sick. And Finn, too, for dating her. For God’s sake, she’s a cheerleader.”
“It’s not healthy how you’re always holding in your feelings. You should let them out from time to time,” I said.
My sarcasm was rewarded with an extremely dirty look.
“Look, Charlie. I think you need to accept that this is happening. Even if you don’t see what the attraction is, Finn really likes her,” I said, leaning forward and keeping my voice low. Finn and Phoebe were still up at the counter, placing their order, but I didn’t want to take the chance I’d be overheard. “He seems really happy. I don’t think they’re going to break up anytime soon.”
“Ouch,” Charlie said, her shoulders slumping.
I nodded sympathetically. “I know. Trust me, I know.” And I did know. I’d been devastated when Hannah and Emmett first started dating. “But I think once you accept that she’s not going anywhere anytime soon, the better off you’ll be.”
Charlie was quiet for a long time. I glanced over at Finn, who had finally realized we were there. He raised a hand.
“Greetings and salutations,”
he said.
“Hey, Finn,” I said. “Hi, Phoebe.”
“Hi,” Phoebe said, waving.
“We’d join you, but Phoebe and I want to spend some quality time together before cheerleading practice starts,” Finn said, pointing at his girlfriend with two fingers.
“I didn’t know you’d joined the cheerleading squad, Finn,” Charlie said.
“Very funny,” Finn said.
“There are guys on our squad,” Phoebe said. “They hold us up during the lifts.”
“But do they get to have pom-poms?” Finn asked.
“No. Only the girls have pom-poms,” Phoebe said, seemingly unaware that Finn was joking around.
Charlie smirked, and nudged me under the table.
“Two lattes, one skinny, one full fat, and one slice of carrot cake,” the barista at the counter called out.
“That’s us. Catch you ladies later,” Finn said, turning to grab the proffered plastic tray.
“Bye!” Phoebe said perkily.
They turned and went to sit at a table by the window.
“Don’t stare at them,” I instructed Charlie.
“I can’t help it,” Charlie said. “She’s feeding him carrot cake off her fork.”
“So?”
“So it’s hideous. And I think proximity to Phoebe is causing Finn’s IQ to drop. Maybe she’s a succubus,” Charlie remarked.
“A succubus drains away her victim’s life energy, not intelligence,” I said.
“Okay, then, she’s an intelligence succubus. I have to get out of here,” Charlie said, standing. “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure,” I said. I actually wanted to talk more about my disappointing Ampersand assignment, but as long as Phoebe continued feeding Finn carrot cake in full view, I wasn’t going to get the best out of Charlie.
Chapter Six
I was still determined to befriend Nora, but she continued to elude me. She walked into Mrs. Gordon’s Nineteenth-Century American Literature class just as the bell was ringing and disappeared as soon as class was over. As lit was the only class we had together, I didn’t expect to see Nora again for the rest of the day, unless I happened to bump into her at lunch. So I was surprised when, just as we were waiting for physics class to begin, she walked in.
She headed straight for Mr. Forrester’s desk and handed the teacher a note. He took it from her, looked it over, and then gave her a curt nod.
“Take a seat,” Mr. Forrester said.
Charlie, who was sitting next to me, nudged me.
“I think that new girl is joining the class,” she whispered.
“I didn’t think we were allowed to switch classes once the semester started,” I replied.
Charlie shrugged. “Maybe the rules are different if you’re new.”
Nora turned and nervously looked around for an open seat. Because we so frequently worked with partners in physics, we sat at tables instead of desks. Each table had room for two students. Charlie and I shared a table at the back of the room. Finn sat in front of us with Tate Metcalf. The table next to ours was empty, so I waved at Nora and gestured for her to come sit next to us. She gave me a grateful smile and slid into the empty seat.
“You can work with Charlie and me,” I whispered across to her.
“Thanks,” Nora whispered back.
I smiled at her, but before I could say anything else, the bell rang. Mr. Forrester stood, clearing his throat wetly. Forrester was a thin, stooped man who favored short-sleeve, button-down shirts—today’s was a hideous brownish yellow—tucked into adjustable-waist pants.
“Today we’re going to begin the fascinating study of kinematics,” Mr. Forrester said. He held his hands in front of him, fingers spread, looking like a magician about to perform a trick.
“Sounds absolutely thrilling,” Charlie muttered as she opened up her laptop and prepared to take notes.
As I drove home from school that afternoon, I tried to pinpoint where, exactly, the smell in my yellow car was coming from.
Is it in the seats? I wondered, rolling down the window. If so, maybe having the upholstery shampooed and vacuumed would take care of the problem. The thought of having to live with the repulsive stink indefinitely was too horrible to contemplate.
I pulled out of the school parking lot and turned left onto the main road. Up ahead, a familiar figure was walking down the sidewalk, head down and shoulders slumped. It was Nora. I put on my signal and pulled over. Nora looked up, clearly startled.
“Hi. Do you want a ride?” I offered.
For a moment, Nora looked unsure. But then she smiled shyly and said, “Okay, thanks.”
She walked around and climbed in the passenger’s side. Once she was buckled in, I pulled back out. I glanced over at her. She had an odd expression on her face while she attempted to covertly pinch her nose shut.
“I know. It’s awful, right? I probably should have warned you about the stink before you got in,” I said.
“It’s not that bad,” Nora lied unconvincingly.
“No, it really is that bad,” I said, laughing. “The car came this way. I think I’m actually starting to get used to it, as frightening as that is. Keeping the windows down seems to help.”
“What is it?” Nora asked.
“No idea. The previous owner must have had a serious BO problem. I keep trying to tell myself that a car, any car, even one that’s ugly, yellow, and smelly is better than no car at all,” I said.
“Speaking as someone who has to walk to and from school in the blistering heat, I can tell you that’s definitely true,” Nora said.
“Do you live far from here?” I asked.
“Three miles.”
“Three miles?” I repeated. “You walk that far every day?”
Nora flushed bright red and turned to look out the window, her shoulders hunched defensively.
“I’m sorry. That’s just a really long way to go, especially in August. Why doesn’t your grandmother drive you?” I asked.
“She can’t,” Nora said.
“Oh,” I said sympathetically. “I’m sorry. Is she disabled?”
Nora laughed. “No way. She plays golf in the morning, and usually goes out shopping with her friends in the afternoons. She says she’s too busy to chauffeur me around. I really need to get a bike.”
I digested this, trying to imagine my mom or dad requiring me to walk three miles to and from school every day in the late-summer heat, because they couldn’t be bothered to pick me up. It wouldn’t ever happen. Even my stepmother had dropped me off occasionally in the days before I had a driver’s license and a car.
“That stinks,” I said.
“Yeah, well, my grandmother was pretty up front about it when I moved here. She told me I could live with her, but I shouldn’t expect much from her.”
“So why did you move here?” I asked.
“My mom is getting married, and she and her fiancé decided they needed some alone time as newlyweds. My dad’s already remarried, but my stepmother isn’t all that fond of me,” Nora explained.
“I know how that goes,” I said.
“You, too? Stepparents are the worst. Anyway, my mom basically dumped me on my grandmother, who’s pretty bitter about the whole thing. She keeps telling me she’s done raising kids and is entitled to enjoy her retirement,” Nora said. I thought Nora sounded pretty bitter herself, but I couldn’t blame her. Her parents—and her grandmother—sounded like selfish jerks.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I sort of know how you feel. My mom moved to London last year, and I was basically forced to move in with my dad and stepmom. Trust me—my stepmom was not thrilled with the situation.”
“What’s your stepmother like?” Nora asked.
I considered this. Peyton and I had never gotten along, but I had to admit, she’d been making more of an effort lately.
“She’s not the warmest person you’ll ever meet,” I said carefully. “But the living situation isn’t as bad as I thought
it was going to be. It’s given me a chance to spend more time with my dad, and I’ve gotten to know my stepsister better, which has been good. We’ve gotten pretty close.”
Nora nodded. “Well, it’s just Gran and me, and she’s hardly ever home. I’m usually on my own at the condo, and I think I’m the only one in the building who’s under the age of seventy. But at least there’s a pool,” Nora said.
I hated the idea of Nora sitting alone in an empty apartment without anyone to talk to.
“What are you doing now?” I asked impulsively. “Do you want to come over to my house?”
Nora hesitated, but then finally she shrugged. “Okay. Why not?”
Chapter Seven
When I pulled into the gravel drive of the beach house, there was a familiar red Mini Cooper parked next to Hannah’s black SUV.
“What on earth is he doing here?” I muttered.
“What?” Nora asked.
“That’s Finn’s car,” I said. Even if there was another red Mini Cooper out there, it probably didn’t have a bumper sticker that read: IF IT WEREN’T FOR PHYSICS AND LAW ENFORCEMENT, I’D BE UNSTOP-PABLE.
“That funny guy from school?” Nora asked.
“If by funny you mean the annoying smart-ass, then yes. That’s Finn,” I said as I turned off the car and opened the door. “I wonder what he’s doing here.”
“He’s probably waiting for you,” Nora said as she also got out of the car. She seemed relieved to be away from the stinky smell and out in the fresh air.
“He didn’t mention he was coming over,” I said.
“Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise.”
I shuddered. “That’s a truly horrifying thought. The last time Finn tried to surprise me, he did it by posting gossip about me on a Web site.”
“Why?” Nora asked.
“Exactly. That is the eternal question when it comes to Finn. Why? ” I slammed the door shut. “The answer is usually some typically twisted Finn logic that no normal, sane person would ever understand.”
“Are you guys together?” Nora asked, as we headed up the walk to the front door.
