by Robin Caroll
“Kinda,” Sandy answered. “But I still don’t understand why so many bad things happen to Christian people.”
“That, my sweet, is an answer I don’t have.” Ms. Martha smiled as the tower bells chimed. “And the discussion of that will have to wait until another week.” She held out her hands to the group. “Let’s pray.”
After Ms. Martha dismissed the group, Sam nudged Makayla. “Are y’all still going to the movie this afternoon?”
She shrugged as she led the way into the sanctuary. “Mom doesn’t want to, but Dad says we shouldn’t be bullied by acts of violence.”
Basically the same thing Ms. Kirkpatrick had said. “What do you think?” Sam asked. She didn’t want her best friend in danger.
“On one hand, I want to see the movie. On the other, I’m scared. But after hearing Ms. Martha, I wonder if I should just trust God to protect us.”
Sam’s mouth went spitless. It was one thing to say that, but to put their lives on the line for trust . . . sometimes Makayla’s optimistic outlook defied Sam’s reality.
“After all, He protected us last night. And your dad. Right?” Makayla asked.
She had a point.
“So I guess whatever the ’rents decide will be okay with me.” Makayla stopped at a pew and stared at Sam. “Why? Do you want to go to the movie with us? I’m sure Mom and Dad would love to have you come along.”
“That’s not an option any longer, girls.” Dad stepped into the pew behind Sam.
“What?” Sam asked. He wouldn’t let her go? She hadn’t exactly thought about whether she really wanted to go or not, but for Dad just to say no period? That wasn’t fair.
“The theater isn’t showing any movie today.” Dad sat down and tugged on Sam’s shirt.
She plopped down beside him. “Why not?”
Makayla chased after her little sister, Chloe, pulling her into the pew in front of Sam’s.
“It’s a crime scene, pumpkin. We aren’t finished gathering all the evidence there.”
Something about his tone . . .
“We, Dad?”
He nodded as he pulled out the bulletin and pretended to be very interested in the sermon notes. “Um, yeah. My captain called me this morning and gave me the case. I’ll be working with the bomb unit.”
Dad would be the one with all the information on the case? This was too easy.
Hello, editor of the school newspaper . . . here I come.
CHAPTER 4
BLOGGING ABOUT
I have to tell you all something exciting,” said Ms. Pape, the eighth grade English teacher and sponsor of the school newspaper. She stood in front of the newspaper staff, wearing a wide smile.
Stuffiness filled the room. The last heat wave of summer caused the school to run the air-conditioner on high, but it still never got really cool in the old building’s wings.
“The school administration has approved our request for a school blog.”
Everyone began murmuring. Sam turned to Celeste, sitting beside her. “Did you know about this?”
Celeste, a fellow seventh grader who was also on the cheer squad with Sam, shook her head. “Must’ve been something they asked about last year.” Sixth graders weren’t allowed to be on newspaper staff.
“Aubrey has made decisions on which topic each reporter will blog about.” Ms. Pape smiled again. “We’ve made a list of topics that will need to be addressed, and Aubrey will let you know which assignment you receive each week. Careful consideration has been given to each topic, as well as which staff member to assign to it. Aubrey will be adjusting and rotating so everyone will have an opportunity to post at least once a week.”
Every one of them? Sam elbowed Celeste. “At least she can’t keep us from writing,” she whispered. Aubrey had made no secret that she resented Sam being on the newspaper staff. She knew Sam wanted to be editor-in-chief. Plus Aubrey just thought all of the seventh graders were beneath the eighth graders.
Ms. Pape moved to her desk in the front corner of the room. “When there’s breaking news, Aubrey will assign reporters to cover these topics.”
Aubrey began by informing the group of the four daily topics: main headlines, sports, student corner, and teacher tips. She assigned four reporters to each topic. Sam swallowed her groan when her name was assigned — teacher tips. Nobody wanted to talk to teachers about tips to get better grades, improve study habits, and boring stuff like that. Surely no one wanted to read it. Leave it to Aubrey to put her in the worst category.
Finally, all the staffers were assigned their topics, then Aubrey stood in front of the classroom-turned-newspaper room. “Now, about the Chenal theater bombing assignment,” she said.
Sam inched to the edge of her seat. Her feet moved under her chair, her toes pressed onto the dirty floor. Her knees bounced up and down.
All day long, everyone had been talking about the bomb and the cancellation of the movie viewing. Sam had bit her tongue over and over, refusing to give any information. She wanted to wait until now, last period and in the newsroom, to let everyone know she was in the know.
Aubrey hugged her clipboard. “We have a good start with the article Samantha turned in as an eyewitness account, which I’ll load up on the blog in a moment.” Of course, she called Sam by her full name just to irritate her. Aubrey glanced over the room. “But I think we need a more seasoned reporter to continue the assignment on our blog as updates become available through the police.” She blushed a little and smiled at Kevin Haynes, the blond haired eighth grader sitting in the front row.
Everybody knew Aubrey had a crush on the blue-eyed quarterback — what girl in school didn’t? Kevin was the most popular guy at the middle school, and in addition to being the star of the football team, he was also president of the student council, captain of the debate team, and leader of the Alpha gifted program.
Word in the newsroom from the eighth graders was that Aubrey always gave Kevin the best assignments, even though he wasn’t the best reporter. Everybody knew Kevin cared about football more than anything else.
But this bomb story was too important to take a backseat to sports.
Sam couldn’t stand it. She jumped up, nearly knocking over her chair. “I want the assignment,” she said.
All the eighth graders seated in the front row, including Kevin, turned to stare at her. Some of the girls even smirked, especially Nikki Cole, Aubrey’s best friend. Their expressions were all the same: How dare a seventh grader have the nerve to request such a cool assignment?
Heat flooded her face, and Sam was pretty certain it was redder than Aubrey’s at the moment, but she couldn’t let this one go. She had to stand up for herself. For the story. She swallowed, then took in a deep breath. “I mean, my dad’s overseeing the case, so I’ll get all the information first.” That wasn’t exactly the way it was, but . . .
“Your dad is heading up the investigation?” Aubrey asked, frowning at her.
Sam nodded. “He’ll be working with the bomb unit.”
Murmurs sounded around the room.
She ignored the whispers and cleared her throat. “Closely. He’ll know all the facts of the case.” Not that he’d share them with her, but he might. If he realized how important this story was to her making editor of the Senator Speak next year. Surely he’d understand how this could make or break her start in journalism.
Ms. Pape smiled at Sam from behind her desk. “That’s a great connection, Aubrey. Maybe it’s possible we can even scoop the high school paper. We’d certainly get more exposure for the blog.”
If the middle school broke a big story before the high school, the editor got some serious respect on the high school campus. It rarely happened, so Aubrey hesitated. Sam raked her top teeth over her bottom lip. Aubrey was probably weighing the choices — make Kevin really happy with her and maybe have him invite her to the back-to-school social, or get a head start on her high school reputation.
Sam had no doubt which way she’d go if the de
cision were hers. She’d wanted to be a journalist ever since she could remember. Mom’s stories were amazing. Her travels . . . her experiences . . . Sam wanted all that for herself one day.
But the decision wasn’t Sam’s, or even Ms. Pape’s. It was Aubrey’s. Even though it was clear Ms. Pape thought Sam should get the assignment, the teacher who acted as the newspaper’s sponsor would let Aubrey make the decision, right or wrong. She lectured many times that this was how news people learned: by making the hard choices and living with the consequences.
“Well, since her dad’s on the case and all . . .” Aubrey’s blush came back as she shot Kevin a sly look, then looked over the room, but avoided eye-contact with Sam. “I’ll give Samantha the assignment.” Now she did stare right at Sam. “I’ll expect you to submit your blog pieces early morning before school until the case is solved. Keep your articles new and fresh. If you don’t, I’ll give the assignment to someone else. Understood?”
Sam nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She’d just been handed a once-in-a-lifetime chance to shine. She wouldn’t mess it up.
Aubrey made a note on her clipboard, then looked over the group. “Good. Now, moving on, we need to talk about the back-to-school dance being held next month. Who wants to cover the preparations?”
The editor’s words faded out. Sam slowly exhaled and plopped back into her chair. She couldn’t really believe she’d actually gotten the assignment! She swallowed the victory yell rising from her gut. She couldn’t wait to tell Makayla. She’d have to hurry to see Makayla at the lockers to at least tell her the news. They wouldn’t be able to talk about it until later because she had cheer practice this afternoon and Mac had karate.
Lana Wilson, one of the other seventh grade reporters, tapped her from behind.
Sam glanced over her shoulder.
Grinning, Lana gave her a thumbs-up. Lana had transferred from another school at the end of last year and had gotten assigned to the newspaper staff, a fact Aubrey wasn’t too happy about. Aubrey and Lana had a mutual dislike of one another, and neither tried too hard to hide the fact.
Sam smiled back, then faced front. She couldn’t pay attention to Aubrey, but she could look like she was listening. All she could think about was the next article. The first one, more of an eyewitness account, Aubrey seemed to like, but Sam needed to take a different angle with the next one. She needed to show her diversity as a reporter, get a different tone for the blog.
If only Mom were home. No, on second thought, Sam wanted to do this all on her own. Needed to. If she wanted her parents to take her goals to become a journalist seriously, she had to make progress on her own. Mom always said that a successful reporter stood on their own and ferretted out the truth for the truth’s sake. Whatever that meant.
The bell rang, and Sam sprinted to her locker.
Makayla was already there. “Why are you rushing?” she asked.
“Guess what?” Sam grinned so big it hurt her cheeks.
Makayla shut her locker. “What? Hurry up, I’ve got to get on the bus before the eighth graders. They take up whole seats with just one person, and I don’t want to have to sit in the front row with the sixth graders.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder.
“I got the bomb articles!”
“Aubrey gave you the assignment?” Makayla’s eyes went wide.
Sam nodded. “The paper’s starting a blog, and my posts have to be fresh, but I got it.”
Makayla hugged her. “Congratulations! I’ll be home from karate practice by five. Call then and you can tell me all the details and explain about the blog.”
“Thanks.” Sam opened her locker. “Now get to your bus so you don’t have to sit with the sixth graders.”
Grinning, Makayla gave her another quick hug, then dashed toward the row of buses lined up in front of the school.
Sam grabbed her own backpack and her duffle with her cheer practice outfit, slammed her locker shut, and headed down the ramp to the girls’ locker room to change.
The locker room was more than just stuffy, it was hot. The school’s automatic timer on the air-conditioning unit turned off at two in an effort to conserve electricity. Those who had to use the locker room after school nearly died of heat exhaustion before they even made it to practice. Gross.
A couple of other cheerleaders waved at Sam as they left. Several of the girls’ basketball members huddled in groups, talking and giggling.
Sam could barely concentrate. Already, her mind kept going over the next article she’d write. She changed in record time, stowed her stuff in her cubby, then headed down the empty hall to the gym. She slowed as she heard voices coming from one of the offices the various coaches used.
“Did you hear about Bobby Milner’s radio interview this morning?” asked Mrs. Holt, the cheerleading coach.
“No. What’d he say now?” Ms. Christian, the girls’ basketball coach, answered.
“I didn’t get to hear it myself, but my husband did. Apparently Milner said he was glad no one got hurt with the bomb incident, but that it should make the theater owner think twice about showing such religious movies.” Mrs. Holt’s voice sounded like she’d just gotten a whiff of the stench from the boys’ locker room.
Sam held her breath, stopping outside the office door and pressing against the cinderblock wall. What radio station had this been on?
“You’ve got to be kidding me! What, is he just begging the police to name him as the prime suspect or what?” Ms. Christian’s tone was even worse.
“Shouldn’t surprise anyone,” Mrs. Holt said. “Not with the way he’s always spouting off his atheist ideas to anybody who’ll listen.”
Ms. Christian laughed. “He is a bit of a menace to society, but do you think he’s capable of planting a bomb?”
Sam crossed her arms over the Cheer! Cheer! Cheer! shirt she wore. She was clearly eavesdropping, which Dad warned her all the time not to do, but this was also research for her articles to help her future career. Mom would understand.
“Maybe. He’s really gotten into some hot spots in his quest lately.” Mrs. Holt said.
“I think he’s looking more for public attention than actually doing anything harmful. Then again, who can tell with people like that?” said Ms. Christian.
“Isn’t that the truth? It seems nobody really knows anybody these days.” Mrs. Holt sighed loudly. “I’d better get out to the squad.”
Sam moved down the hall, careful to keep her head ducked as she hurried.
“I need to check on the team. Did you hear we’re projected to go to regionals this year?” Ms. Christian’s voice grew fainter.
“I did. That’s really good,” Mrs. Holt answered.
“I hope we can — ”
Sam pushed into the gym, her mind racing faster than the football team members sprinting on the practice field. It wasn’t like she intended to eavesdrop, but now that she’d heard about this Bobby Milner, she needed to find out what she could about him. It was her duty as a journalist.
She couldn’t wait to get home and do some research on the internet. She could just ask Dad who Bobby Milner was, but she’d rather look him up on the internet. Then when she asked Dad, officially for the paper, it’d show him she was serious and had done her homework.
Impress him with her insight.
CHAPTER 5
A REPORTER’S GUT INSTINCT
Listen to this, straight from what the radio station posted on their site. This is what they say about him.” Sam adjusted her Bluetooth earpiece and read off the internet as she moved through the motions of the cheer they’d learned in practice. “ ‘Bobby Milner is an active member of the Arkansas Society of Freethinkers, an organization of secular individuals whose goals are to build a supportive and active community, promote public acceptance of nonbelievers, and defend science education and the separation of church and state.’ ”
What exactly did that mean?
She stared at the picture of Mr. Milner the radio station h
ad posted. He was younger than Sam had thought, only about thirty or so. For some reason, after listening to him, she’d thought he would be like fifty or something.
Makayla made clicking noises with her tongue over the phone line. “Hey, isn’t that the group who protested the picture of the Ten Commandments in that judge’s private chambers in the city courthouse? They were on the news and everything, right?”
“I think so.” Chewy jumped up on the bed, her entire body wagging. Sam smiled and reached over to scratch behind her ears. “The transcript of Bobby Milner’s interview reads just like Mrs. Holt said her husband heard. He said, ‘I’m relieved no one got hurt with the bomb incident, but it should make Frank Hughes think twice about allowing the showing of such religious movies. Atheists can feel isolated when the religious community is so organized and outspoken on issues. This is but one of many examples.’ ”
Goodness, what would Ms. Martha and Pastor Patterson make of Mr. Milner’s comments? Hmm. Maybe she could get a statement from Pastor for her next article. She’d need someone to go on record about Mr. Milner being a suspect. If he was a suspect. Surely he was — with the radio interview, how could he not be? Maybe Dad would give her a quote.
“I’m assuming Frank Hughes is the theater owner?” Makayla asked, interrupting Sam’s thoughts.
“Yep.” Sam glanced at the digital frame hanging on the wall beside her desk. Instead of photos, there were matted articles written by her mom that had been scanned in and flashed as a slide-show. Articles where things weren’t always what they seemed and Mom had helped uncover the truth. Maybe this story was Sam’s chance to do the same thing.
Clicking sounded over the line. “Let me do some checking and see if I can find anything on him.” Some checking? Sam could hold her own on a computer, but Makayla was a ninja-genius on the computer. There wasn’t much she couldn’t find out using a computer. “Thanks, Mac.”
Sophia’s and Makayla’s addiction to technology had landed them both in EAST this year. The Environmental And Spatial Technology class allowed them access to some of the newest software and hardware on the market. Their EAST classes focused on student-driven service projects by using teamwork and cutting-edge technology. The EAST classroom had the coolest computers, laptops, software, and accessories, including GPS/GIS mapping tools, architectural and CAD design software, 3D animation suites, virtual reality development, and more. The kids in EAST could identify problems in the community and then use these tools to develop solutions, usually working with other groups.
