The New Guy (and Other Senior Year Distractions)

by Amy Spalding

  “Yeah,” she says. “I can see where I rank with all of that.”

  She turns from me and keeps walking down the hallway.

  “Sadie, please let me—”

  “Go back to class, Jules. Don’t jeopardize your GPA.”

  She keeps walking, and I don’t know what to do besides turning around and walking back into women’s history. TALON’s over, which means I missed Alex’s piece, but did Alex know about the segment? Did Alex just want to come clean? Is Alex burdened with too much? He was a cheater in Chaos 4 All, and he might be a cheater for TALON, and then I made him take on this secret relationship.

  He finds me in the hallway after class, and even though I feel like I should be looking for Sadie, who never came back to class, it feels really good to hug him without worrying about anyone seeing us. Now everyone can see us.

  “I didn’t know they were going to do that,” he says. “I promise.”

  “I believe you,” I say. “It’s just Natalie being Natalie.”

  “Well…” He grins. “You guys did run that dance recital video. She owed you.”

  “Don’t defend Natalie,” I say, even though I guess they’re friends or, at the very least, colleagues.

  “Okay,” Alex whispers right before he kisses me. I should be looking for Sadie, but I’m so relieved this right now is still safe and good, even with the whole world knowing. “It’s good to have it out there, right? We needed the push.”

  “Yes,” I say, and now I know that we’re running the article. I can’t wait for fourth period; I’ll text Marisa as soon as I can. Getting rid of secrets feels right; I’d imagine long-held secrets would feel even better to let go of.

  “I should go to class,” I say. “And try to find Sadie.”

  “She just walked by,” Alex says, and that means that Sadie saw me with Alex’s hand on my waist while I should have been looking for her. But I head off in the direction Alex points anyway, and I spot her blue hair easily in the crowded hallway.

  “Sadie, can we talk?” I ask.

  “I have to get to class,” she says. “So, no.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to.”

  She just keeps walking away, and I know I have to get to class, and I need to text Marisa, and so I let her go. In second period, Em treats me no differently than usual, and after sneaking a text to Marisa, I send one off to Sadie: I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. And then another: I’m free after my Crest meeting this afternoon. Can we hang out? And I can’t help sending a third: Sadie, you’re never nothing to me.

  “Are you serious?” Marisa greets me as I walk into fourth period. “We can run it?”

  “Yes,” I say, with Natalie’s defeated face in my head—I mean, Alex’s relieved face. Of course. I’m doing this for him. Yes, there’s the bonus of hopefully ending TALON once and for all. If they’re cheating their numbers, I can’t imagine school administration would be happy with that.

  Even if they aren’t, there’s no way that TALON can compete with the attention the article will get.

  “We’re running it?” Thatcher asks as Carlos runs around us to take a seat at one of the layout computers to switch out the “Fall into Extracurriculars!” headline for “Chaos 4 Who?” “You’re okay with this, Jules?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t know you guys were back together,” Carlos says, tweaking the headline’s placement.

  “I should explain,” I say as the rest of the class surrounds us to watch Carlos work. “I never wanted any of you to think that I wasn’t one hundred percent committed to the Crest and working against TALON. So I didn’t want you to know about Alex because it might give the wrong impression about my loyalties.”

  “Alex is hot,” Marisa says. “I think that’s all I assume about your loyalties.”

  A few people agree with her, and then it seems like all anyone cares about is watching Carlos format the article.

  “What happened to you not being sure if it’s appropriate for the Crest?” Thatcher asks me.

  “This is where print journalism excels,” I say. “We still need to build readership, and national media attention would be a great way. And, of course, sometimes it’s better for secrets not to be secrets anymore.”

  Thatcher doesn’t say anything.

  “Do you think it’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure what I think,” he says. “But you’re in charge, so if you want to run it, let’s go. I trust you, Jules.”

  It would be easy to stay in Mr. Wheeler’s classroom during lunch to avoid whatever awaits me in the cafeteria, but it’s another chance to talk to Sadie, so I go. Alex is already at the table with his lunch when I arrive, and everyone laughs or raises eyebrows or smiles knowingly at us. It should feel great, but everyone doesn’t actually include Sadie, who’s reading her women’s history textbook and not looking at anyone with her red-rimmed eyes.

  After school we each proof a copy of this week’s issue, and, miraculously, there are no typos or printing errors. Seeing it in print makes me feel even better about my decision today.

  Besides the cover story, it’s an incredibly typical issue of the Crest, but we did almost all of this one on our own. I’m sure Mr. Wheeler will mainly be thinking about his family when he gets back next week, but I also hope that he’s proud of us. Normally, the Crest wouldn’t even exist without the work our advisor handles, but Mr. Wheeler didn’t even bother trying to have another teacher cover those duties. Anything that I didn’t handle personally, I oversaw.

  This isn’t even a typical issue. I’m positive this’ll be the most buzz-worthy issue we put out this year, and that’s because of me. I did this all on my own—well, I did this with my staff. TALON might have caught us off guard initially, but I’ll be the one who conquered.

  And of course I care about journalism, tradition, and truth, but triumph feels really great too.

  Alex joins me for my shift at Stray Rescue on Saturday, and even though it’s unprofessional, I let him cover for me a few times during walks so that I can check my email for the printer’s proofs. Everything’s perfect, and that means the issue is completed.

  “Everything okay?” Alex asks, handing Giselle’s leash back to me while he keeps Titus.

  “Everything’s great,” I say. “Our extra proofing paid off, and our issue’s perfect to go, and—is it strange that I’m talking about the Crest? I know that even though everyone knows about us that we’re still at war.”

  “It’s fine,” he says.

  “Make sure you read the issue on Monday,” I say.

  “I always read it,” he says. “Well, I have been. Since we’ve been back together, at least. And in private.”

  “The article Marisa interviewed you for is in it,” I say. “So read it in public.”

  He grins and leans over to kiss me.

  I swat him away, but only after the kiss is over. “We’re working!”

  “You’re very rule-abiding,” Alex says. “Anyway, congrats. Sounds like Mr. Wheeler doesn’t even need to come back.”

  “That would be amazing,” I say. “He should stay where he is! Oh my god, except for that his dad’s dead. I didn’t mean—”

  “Too late, Jules, now I know you’re a terrible person.”

  I smile at him and he grins back. “Do you know what a week from today is?”

  He looks confused, and after a moment or so, I realize he’s messing with me.

  “My parents are going to a banquet,” he says. “And you’re coming over.”

  “I’m on birth control,” I say softly, and then switch back to my normal voice because I don’t think that dogs understand what we’re talking about. “Just to let you know. But I think we should use condoms too.”

  “I figured that we would,” Alex says. “I’m not some irresponsible jerk, you know. I think I’m pretty nice.”

  “I know you are,” I say, because no matter what he had to do with Chaos 4 All’s success or TALON’s numbers, I believe that.
<
br />   CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  On Monday I get to leave third period early so that I can sign for the papers. Carlos is allowed to join me, so we each cut open a box.

  “This looks awesome,” he says.

  “It looks perfect,” I say, and we high-five. In my head I picture Alex reading it and feeling free from his past missteps.

  And then I picture Natalie. I picture Natalie for much longer. I think about the TVs never turning on again during Friday first periods, and the student body reading the Crest because it’s the only place to get news about the school, and it’ll be like Eagle Vista Academy—and my senior year—are back to where they were supposed to be.

  And Sadie will understand now, because TALON’s bad behavior is in print for everyone to see. She’ll understand how seriously I had to take the battle. Sadie and I will be fine.

  The pizzas show up after fourth period as the bell rings for lunch. The majority of the staff helps themselves as the freshmen sadly trudge out to hand out papers. My phone’s out where I can see the screen, because I’m sure Alex will text.

  And he does.

  J. What the fuck.

  “I have to go,” I say, stumbling out of the desk chair. Suddenly it doesn’t seem so obvious that the article would thrill everyone but Natalie.

  The hallway looks like one of my fantasies. Everyone—everyone is reading the Crest. I’ve never, ever seen my school look so engaged in my paper. My lunch table is sitting quietly, reading the Crest. It’s probably the wrong moment to realize I’ve never even seen my best friends look so engrossed in the paper.

  “Guys, I have to—”

  Sadie silences me with a look. “I guess the Crest won, huh?”

  “No, I—guys.” I make eye contact with Alex. Well, I try, but he won’t look up. “Alex.”

  “This was the article I was interviewed for?” he asks. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “Can we talk?” I ask. “Please?”

  “Alex is really upset,” Sadie says. “You being here is just making it worse.”

  “Why? I was trying to… I thought…” I start to cry. It’s right then that I realize everyone near us is staring. People across the cafeteria are staring too. Basically the entire school is watching this happen. People are watching Alex looking more deflated than I’ve ever seen him, and it’s not at all his fault.

  To be completely fair, once upon a time, it was his fault. He lied and cheated in a huge way, but in the midst of falling in love with him, it was so easy to write that all off as Former Alex. Young Alex. The Past’s Alex. On-screen Alex.

  Not my Alex.

  And now it seems like he’s none of those Alexes anymore.

  “Fine,” he says.

  We walk out into the hallway together, though we have to stick near the cafeteria entrance so we don’t get into trouble.

  “You were so relieved when TALON ran the video of us,” I say.

  Alex crosses his arms across his chest. “Uh-huh.”

  “And you’d mentioned… that there were things about Chaos 4 All you couldn’t even talk about now,” I say. “Your quotes to Marisa made it seem that way too. I thought you’d be so happy to just have it out there and not have to hide it anymore.”

  I hope it’s okay to leave out the part where I wanted to beat Natalie.

  “Jules, shit,” he says. “I just meant that I hardly ever saw my parents and I felt like I didn’t have control over my life and there’s no way to really get ready for being that famous. Not that I cheated.”

  “I was trying to help,” I say.

  “I knew you cared about the rivalry more than almost anything, but I guess I was stupid enough to think I wasn’t part of the almost.”

  “You weren’t—you aren’t. Alex, please. I only ran it for you.” I hate how that’s only partially true. Right? Oh, god, I don’t like doubting myself. “I know you’re mad, but—”

  “I can’t believe you’d expect me to believe that,” he says. “If you ran it for me, why not check with me? Why link me to the TALON shit, when that’s recent? There’s no way you did this for me.”

  “You seemed relieved when we were finally public,” I say, “as a couple. I thought this would be the same. And you were in the article!”

  “You thought accusing me of faking my past success, and using that to fake TALON’s success would… relieve me?” He shakes his head. “You were the first girl after all of that who I thought I could trust. I could be myself around you. Guess I called that wrong.”

  He turns from me and walks back into the cafeteria.

  I numbly find myself walking back through the hallway and into Mr. Wheeler’s classroom. Everyone’s eating pizza and chatting, but they look up at me when I enter the room. I touch my face and remember that I’m crying.

  “Jules,” Carlos says.

  “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” I say as I sit down at Mr. Wheeler’s desk. No one moves or says anything for what feels like forever, but of course eventually everyone goes back to eating pizza and talking.

  “Hey.” Thatcher walks over to me. “You okay?”

  “Obviously I’m not.”

  “I’m not really good at giving advice,” he says with a shrug. “Maybe I should have talked you out of it.”

  “You couldn’t have,” I say. “I think I tricked myself into believing something so I could…”

  I don’t want to finish the sentence with win, and I’m glad Thatcher doesn’t do it for me.

  “Just be honest,” Thatcher says. “There’s the advice I’ll give now. Be honest with everyone, especially with yourself.”

  When the bell rings, I drag myself to Topics in Economics. I’ve beaten Alex there, and I hurriedly scribble onto a piece of loose-leaf paper before he arrives.

  Alex,

  Please believe me. I’d never try to hurt you. I screwed up, but of course I care about you more than The Crest. I love you.

  —Jules

  When Alex walks by I hold up the sheet of paper, but he just reaches down and balls it up into his fist.

  None of my friends speak to me for the rest of the day, though there’s no such luck with the rest of the school. Even though my name’s clearly not in the byline, people have questions about Ethan Summers, the research, and VidLook. I’m convinced I must look like far too much of a mess to be taken seriously, but when I duck into the bathroom to examine myself in the mirror, I look the same as always.

  How does heartbreak look so normal on me?

  Natalie is waiting for me at my locker when the school day finally ends.

  “Hi,” I say.

  She holds up a copy of the Crest. “We should sue you for libel.”

  “It all looks very suspicious,” I say. “You can’t deny that.”

  “Do you honestly think we’d fake our numbers?” she asks. “Do you think we’d need to?”

  “Who outside of the school would even care about TALON?” I ask.

  “Parents,” she says. “Friends from other schools. We’ve reached out to journalists and other school video programs. It adds up quickly, Julia.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “We’ll put together something for this Friday,” she says. “But I’ll still expect a retraction in next week’s issue of the Crest.”

  “I’ll have to consult with Mr. Wheeler about that,” I say, though that just reminds me that Mr. Wheeler doesn’t know what we published, and tomorrow he will. How were my instincts so incredibly wrong?

  “Do.” Natalie drops the issue of the Crest at my feet and walks off.

  At home I fly through my homework, and fake the best mood that isn’t suspicious on a Monday for Mom and Darcy. There’s so little I’ve kept from them, but the day has been rough enough. Hopefully it’s fair to hold off on letting them know just how much their only, very expensive, daughter screwed up for another day or two.

  My phone is silent, even though I keep praying that it’ll beep with a message from Sadie or Alex or even Em or
Thatcher with something comforting. When I check my email, it’s a flood of messages, but it’s hardly good news. Some sleazier celebrity blogs have picked up the story, and now the details aren’t just ours. The story belongs to the whole world now, or at least the whole World Wide Web.

  I wanted national attention, sure. But I didn’t want that.

  Sadie doesn’t look at me when I arrive in women’s history the next morning, but at this point it doesn’t surprise me. What does, however, is that moments after the bell rings, the overhead system squawks my name again, just like last week. Once it tells me to report to Mr. Wheeler’s room, though, it doesn’t seem like much of a mystery.

  Oh my god.

  I slowly gather my books and my legs are shaking as I walk down the hallway. I expect to see a class full of freshmen when I walk in, but it’s empty besides him.

  “I sent them to the library,” he says at my confused expression.

  “Oh,” I say. And then, “Welcome back.”

  “I’m sure you know why I called you in here,” he says.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Sit down, Jules.” Mr. Wheeler sighs and picks up yesterday’s issue of the Crest. “I don’t even know where to start with this.”

  “Mr. Wheeler, I can explain everything, really.”

  “You’re the one who’s been talking about legacy all year, Jules,” he says. “And I’m gone for less than one week, and you’ve brought the paper down to the level of a tabloid.”

  “Mr. Wheeler,” I say, and this is the moment where I can’t stop myself from crying in front of him. Mr. Wheeler has seen me in my pajamas, seen me fighting with my parents, and—though I’ve mainly blocked it out of my memory—once heard me singing a jingle for mayonnaise. But I’d relive any of those moments over crying.

  “I know that you’re right,” I say finally. “I’m responsible for destroying our legacy.”

  He taps at a few keys on his computer. The printer comes to life and spits out one single sheet of paper. From where I’m sitting it looks like a letter.