by D. M. Paige
FIFTEEN
“You forgot this.” Henry was looking at me like he didn’t know me.
He was holding my tablet in his hand. My stomach twisted. I knew what was on it before I could see it. He tilted it in my direction. The picture of Liam and Connor was on the screen.
“I wasn’t spying. It just turned on on its own,” he said, as if there were any question as to who had the moral high ground here.
“I can explain,” I blurted, knowing full well that I couldn’t really.
“You spent the entire day with me while you were carrying this around. Were you hoping to gather some information on Liam? Was that what today was about?”
“You asked me out today, remember? You showed up here,” I defended myself.
His eyes were cold now.
“It’s not your secret to tell,” he said simply.
Now I was angry. “I’m a journalist. This could make my career.”
“Yeah? And what about Liam? Do you care what happens to him?”
“He’s a public figure,” I answered. And why should I care? He’d been so awful to me from the second I met him.
“So he doesn’t have feelings? He doesn’t have rights?”
“He doesn’t get to have privacy. I’m sorry. It’s not personal.” My voice sounded so cold it almost didn’t sound like mine anymore. It reminded me of Naomi.
“It is personal. And if you don’t see that, you’re not the person I thought you were.”
He stormed off, his cell phone already in hand, ready to do damage control.
“Liam, hey. Pick up, please.”
I watched him go. I didn’t have anything to say to stop him.
SIXTEEN
“I need something more than Henry is a really good kisser,” Naomi whispered to me as I walked into the studio.
The Side Effects were already setting up behind the glass.
Henry was staring straight ahead, like I wasn’t standing right in front of him.
Liam was looking at me, his eyes bleary and red, as if he hadn’t slept.
I did that to him.
“Let’s try something new today,” Henry said to the band. “Can you guys follow?” He turned back to the band.
Manny nodded and held his drumsticks tighter.
I thought you were new
I thought you were true
Now I’m blue
Because you’re like the rest
Trying to tear down the best
I thought you were new
Now I’m blue
Now we’re just through
Henry sang with his eyes closed.
Ouch. Every girl wants someone to write a song about them … just not this song.
I deserved it. But it still hurt to hear.
Naomi looked from me to Henry and back again.
She knew something was up.
The rest of the band didn’t seem to notice. Manny had found just the right beat. Hu was leaning into his guitar, finding the right melody. Cam was catching up on the bass. They were all getting into the Henry-hates-Lisa song.
Naomi’s head was moving to the beat. “Now that’s passion,” she said. Was she trying to get a reaction from me?
Liam called five, and the other boys congratulated Henry on the killer track.
“How’d you come up with it? It’s way different than your other stuff,” Naomi asked, recorder in hand.
“I don’t know, it just kind of hit me out of nowhere like I was sucker punched,” he said, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t name me, but he made sure I knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Well, you should get punched more often.” Naomi smiled.
“What?”
“You sounded great—like you were singing about something you actually cared about.”
“Well, I don’t care anymore,” he stammered, and rushed away.
“Sure sounded like you do,” Naomi mumbled.
She finished jotting down her notes and turned to leave. “When you’re ready to tell me what you have on our boys, I’ll be back at the office,” she whispered.
I felt the tears stinging somewhere behind my eyes, and I willed them not to come. I began to gather my things, but Naomi stopped me. “Stay, watch the rest of the session. I have to run a couple of errands on the way back to the office.”
Naomi let herself out of the studio.
When I turned back around, Liam was there.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I was being honest, but Liam looked like he didn’t believe me. He thought I was playing with him. With his life.
When I looked up, Henry was standing in the door.
“Then we don’t have anything to talk about,” said Henry. He turned his back on me, and the two of them headed back into the soundproof room.
SEVENTEEN
Back at the office, I went to my desk and waited for Naomi find me there. Instead, I ran into Holiday.
“How is your internship going? Are you enjoying your time with Naomi?”
Tam had asked me the same question days ago. This time I could answer without hesitating.
“She’s teaching me everything she knows.”
Holiday smiled brightly.
“Any questions for me?”
“How did you get your first big story?”
“Well, I was a lot older than you. And the story kind of found me.”
The story about Liam had found me, too. Did that mean I was supposed to tell it?
“How’s that?”
“I was on assignment for this beauty magazine I was working at, and while I was there covering a fashion shoot for an actress, the hotel next door got bombed. I had to make a decision: run for my life, or go cover it. So I covered it.”
“Wow, that’s huge.”
“The Rage walks that line between the human-interest stuff and just the human stuff. I get the best of both worlds. One day it’s how Beyoncé and Jay-Z have changed since they had the baby, and the next day it’s how you can help save babies in Malawi. I think that there’s room to cover both kinds of stories.”
After Holiday walked away, I stared at my blank computer screen.
Finally, I knew what I had to do. I took a deep breath and began to write.
Naomi approached my desk about an hour later.
I handed her the printout of what I wrote.
She read it over. When she was done, she rolled her eyes like she was a teenager and not a twentysomething.
“I think you have something better.”
“Then your hunch is wrong. This is all I have.”
“They’re not going to thank you, you know. This story could have been your ticket. A month from now they’ll be back on tour, living their lives, not giving a crap about you.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Crushes die. But the article would have lived forever.”
“But I would have to live with myself.”
She left the paper I’d written on my desk. I had picked it up, ready to throw it in the trash, when Tam came by.
“Let me read it, at least.”
I shrugged and handed it to her.
EIGHTEEN
The Side Effects were back on the road now—a different city every day. I didn’t hear back from Henry when I texted him to apologize.
I followed the band online. Like Naomi predicted, they all looked happy, like they’d moved on. I searched for clips of Henry on YouTube singing the song that he wrote about me. But from what I could tell, he never sang it again. Maybe he didn’t even have the energy to hate me anymore. I wondered if he ever thought of me at all.
When the article came out, I made myself read it. It certainly wasn’t a love letter to the band, but Naomi didn’t trash them either.
The band shows promise. I heard them perform a hate song that was better than any of their love songs. Most people will probably think it’s some shallow song about Liam’s ex, who breaks up with him on
a weekly basis. But I think it was the most honest thing I’ve heard them play. It probably won’t make their album, but it should. When they stop being who they think the world wants them to be and start being who they really are … I’d like a front-row seat at that concert.
Naomi’s writing was still good, even without leaking some huge secret.
Naomi got her wish to go on an overseas assignment again. She was in South Korea, covering a story about the soldiers who guarded the border there. It was just the kind of thing that she lived for. I picked up my phone to text her about the article, to tell her that I thought it was good and to thank her for the chance to learn from her.
I dropped the magazine when I reached for the phone. It fell open to a bonus page about the Side Effects. An extra? I didn’t know about that, I thought.
I picked it up and found pictures of Hu’s T-shirts and my article, “The Secret Life of the Side Effects,” lining the two-page spread—the article I’d given to Naomi to read. It was all about the charities that each boy in the band spent time working with. But how did it get in the magazine?
I went to see Tam.
“I gave it to Holiday. She thought it was well written and an angle that we hadn’t yet seen about the boys. Congratulations.”
I hugged Tam. She did this for me? And Holiday actually liked it?
This had to be my breakthrough.
My first byline!
NINETEEN
A few days before the end of my internship, I read that they were back. I wasn’t expecting to hear from them, so I was beyond surprised when I found Liam in the lobby of my dorm.
A few minutes later, we plopped down on the bed in my room.
“Thank you for not telling.”
“It wasn’t my secret to tell.” I said, repeating Henry’s words and meaning them.
“Hu’s over the moon about the article about the graphic tees. He retweeted it. You’re going to have a gazillion followers now.”
I didn’t know about the retweet. It probably wasn’t the same as having a byline with Naomi, but it felt good.
“What made you do it—or not do it? No offense, you seemed like the story-at-any-cost type, like Naomi,” he said suddenly, searching my eyes for an answer, like he couldn’t figure me out.
“I guess I’m not exactly like Naomi after all. Besides, you should know better than anyone that first impressions can be totally off. Like, when I met you I thought you were a total jerk.”
“I was a total jerk to you. Sorry.”
I shrugged. “I get it. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think you have anything to hide. It’s 2014. Don’t you think the world is ready for you?” He was silent, thinking.
“How’s Henry?” I asked, not able to go another minute without knowing.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself? We’re having a private concert tonight. No press. Just friends and family.”
“And you want me to come?”
“It’ll be fun.”
TWENTY
When I entered the hotel room, the band was already playing. It was a new song, and it sounded more grown-up. When they finished, I hung back.
I tried not to stare at Henry, but I couldn’t help it.
Hu came over to see me first. He was wearing one of his T-shirts. He pulled it out from his chest proudly.
“Have you checked your Twitter? You’re going to totally blow it.”
I shook my head.
Hu pulled out his phone and clicked on my name. Twenty thousand followers. I’d only had a hundred yesterday.
“Thanks, Hu!”
Hu spotted Henry coming our way and moved on to talk to his parents.
I didn’t know what to say to Henry. I didn’t know what he was going to say to me.
“I got your texts. I needed some time…. It was cool of you not to run with the story.”
I nodded. The band’s manager, Marnie, cleared her throat. Henry hadn’t called or written or texted all month. Whatever we were or whatever we could have been was over the second I took that stupid picture.
“We should get seats,” he said. “Liam has something he wants to announce.”
TWENTY-ONE
Liam took his place in front of the room. It wasn’t a who’s-who of Hollywood. It was strictly friends and family, all of their parents, and a few kids our age, including Connor and Astoria.
Connor caught me looking at him and smiled. Astoria was smiling, bright, happy, and just for Liam. She had the whole world convinced that she was this spoiled witch, but at the end of the day she was true friend to him. She was a really good actress.
Liam announced that he was gay. He explained that he hadn’t wanted to risk the band’s popularity by telling the truth.
Henry got up and patted him on the shoulder.
Manny gave him a hug.
Hu pretended to be not at all surprised and did the same.
Cam stood to the side for a minute, as if he was still trying to figure out the words that Liam had said. Then he moved in to give Liam a bear hug and said, “It doesn’t matter to me that you’re gay. Just don’t ever lie to us again, man.”
Liam beamed, looking half-surprised and half-confused by the warm response.
The rest of Liam’s family and friends circled him for hugs and kind words.
I felt myself tear up. I decided it was time for me to go.
I hadn’t ruined anything for Liam or the band. I’d only ruined things for me and Henry. I began to back out of the room, but someone caught up with me. I was hoping it would be Henry, but it was Liam.
“That was so brave,” I said. “And I promise it’s off the record.”
“I don’t think I would have done it if it weren’t for you.”
“I bet you would have.”
“I’m not ready to tell the world yet, but when I am—I’d like to tell you. On the record.”
“I’d be honored.”
I hugged him and began to walk away again.
This time a voice stopped me.
It was Henry’s, and he was singing. I turned around.
I thought you were new
I thought you were true
Now I’m blue
Because I miss you
Now I’m blue
I hope we’re not just through
I felt myself melt as he closed the gap between us.
“I thought you couldn’t trust me anymore,” I said.
“You didn’t publish the article when you could have. I know what it meant to you.”
“I shouldn’t have even thought about it. The second I saw the way you looked at me when you found that picture, I realized what a mistake it would have been. I should have realized it sooner.”
“But you did realize it. That’s what matters.”
TWENTY-TWO
Dear Mr. Holt,
I have just completed my summer at The Rage. I can’t thank you enough for the experience.
I had a plan for the summer: get my first byline. But I ended up getting a lot more than that.
I always knew that I wanted to be a reporter when I grew up, but I never knew what kind of reporter I wanted to be until this summer.
I had the honor of working with one of the best journalists in the field, Naomi Jax. She puts the story first—before everything. Two years ago, I read her amazing article on children fighting in the war in Sudan. Her words are what made me want to pursue journalism. In some ways, I want to be just like her when I grow up. In others ways, I hope to make my own path.
Being a good journalist means that you have to be objective. But I want to make sure that I remain a good person, too. Journalism can put your goodness at stake by requiring you to question and challenge people.
I always knew I wasn’t supposed to change how a story comes out. What I didn’t know was how much the story could change me.
Next summer, I’m going back to The Rage, where I hope to learn more about what it takes to be a great journalist … and maybe even pub
lish another byline or two.
Thank you,
Lisa Harris
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
D. M. Paige attended Columbia University and her first internship eventually led her to her first writing job at Guiding Light, a soap opera. She writes and lives in New York City.
