“All right, let me have it!” I said eager to hear Georgia’s thoughts on the piece I’d written. “What did you think? It was good, right?”
I stood in front of her desk, watching as she looked up at me with a broken stare. She let go of a long breath, and then she turned to the stack of papers next to her, pulled a sheet of paper from the middle, and passed it over to me.
“We can’t print this,” she said, tapping a finger on the page. “Journalism is supposed to be honest and objective, and your goal here was to do nothing but tell the story.”
“That’s what I did,” I said, picking it up to reread the article I’d poured my heart and soul into. “It’s a good piece.”
“Sure, it’s great,” she said, shrugging. “And if we were trying to publish a story that captured the angelic essence of Gabriel Raddick, then I’d print your article today. But you were assigned to write a story about the program. You were supposed to get information from Gabe, to snag a few quotes for your article. But what you’ve written, no. That’s not objective journalism. Your perspective is skewed, and that won’t fly in this newsroom.”
She slid her rolling chair across the floor and stopped at the desk behind her. She plucked a folder from the large pile of clutter growing on the back counter, and then she wheeled over to the desk in front of me. She opened the folder, retrieved a group of 8x10 glossy photos, and passed them over.
“I sent Santiago out to get some candid shots of the group in action this week,” she said. “He came back with the proofs, and I think we can both agree that there’s a distinctive pattern.”
I flipped through the photographs, one by one, and it only took a single moment to see the pattern she was referring to.
In every photograph of Gabe, I was there, too.
There was a picture of him and Lashell talking up on the stage in the auditorium, and I recognized the image quite well. It was the first day of the program, the Saturday afternoon just after I’d hit him with my car. He was still scruffy and dirty, but he wore a smile. Over in the corner of the photograph, Carla and Fletcher were leaning over a notebook, deep in conversation. I wasn’t focused on them or anything happening in our group. I was turned around in my seat, watching Gabe and Lashell, eavesdropping on a conversation I had no right to listen in on.
The second picture was taken shortly after Gabe sat down with my team. While I was looking at Carla, my face all twisted and distorted, Gabe was staring at me. His elbow was propped on his leg, his head was resting in his hand, and he just studied me, as though he couldn’t believe I was getting worked up over whatever it was we were talking about in that moment. There was an intensity to his stare that was almost frightening.
He knows you.
I could hear Bailey’s voice ringing through my ears.
It means he likes you, Mandy. He knows you.
I knew that now, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew me so well because of how closely he’d watched me. He’d already confessed to it once before. He said he could recognize my gestures, and he knew I’d been tense. But that was after we called our truce and started over. If this photograph was any indication, then it meant that Gabe really had been studying me all along, from the very beginning. That probably explained how he’d been able to tell me and my sister apart at first glance.
He knew me.
“Mandy?”
“Hmm?” I said, looking up from the photographs.
“There are a dozen more just like those,” she said. “We have more from the orientation and from the car wash. And don’t forget I sit in the same cafeteria with you. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”
“What are talking about?”
“I know it’s only a school paper,” she continued. “And I understand that we don’t have to abide by all the journalism codes here the way they do out in the real world, but I take this job seriously; it’s my passion. When I go in for my college interview in the spring, I want to be able to tell the university that I have run this school paper as honestly as I could with integrity and dignity.”
I nodded.
“I can’t do that if I let you publish this article,” she said. “The writing is great; it’s snappy, and it’s entertaining. But you’re too close to the subject. I don’t know what’s going on between you and Raddick, and it’s none of my business, but I can’t let you write anything else about the program from here on out. It wouldn’t be fair to our readers.”
I nodded again, and then I managed to find my voice.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I understand.” I wadded the article into a ball and tossed it in the trashcan next to her desk. Georgia’s eyes trailed over to the garbage before she looked back to me. “I can ask someone else to cover the story—”
“Don’t bother,” she said, picking up a piece of paper. “We’re just going to run the story Mary Chris covered on the transportation changes. I’ll take care of the Raddick story myself, and we’ll get it in for the next issue.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said. “These things happen. There’s always a Plan B.” A small smile pulled at her lips, and she leaned a little closer. “Now,” she said, taking an imaginary hat off of her head. “The editor cap is off. I know I said it’s none of my business, but I’m curious. What’s going on with you and Raddick? Everyone’s been talking.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, frozen.
“You guys have been working very closely,” she said. “And we all saw you together in the lunch room on Monday. You can’t tell me you don’t see the way he looks at you.”
“Um… no, I mean… Gabe is just… Gabe.”
“Oh, don’t give me that,” she smiled. “I know we’re not friends, per se, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you happy. You smile around him, and I don’t think anyone at this school has ever seen you smile. We thought it was like a medical impossibility for you or something.”
“I smile,” I argued. “I smile all the time.”
“Mandy,” she said, looking at me from the tops of her eyes. “Seriously. What’s going on?”
“I like him,” I said, finally admitting the words out loud for the first time. I barely recognized my voice as I heard that one simple truth slip off my lips. “I like Gabe… a lot. And you were right; I probably shouldn’t have written that article. I’m not unbiased or objective by any means. He’s amazing, and part of me wants nothing more than to shout it to the world so that everyone knows.”
Georgia’s lips curved into the silliest of grins.
“I’ve got to get to homeroom,” I said, backing away slowly. I stumbled away from the desk, completely unaware of my legs. I wanted to hate how easily even thoughts of Gabe could make me weak at the knees, but I couldn’t muster the slightest bit of resentment. I imagined I looked like Bambi trying to walk for the first time, and something about the way my skin tingled left me feeling a little woozy. Gabe left me feeling a little woozy. “Let me know if you have anything else for me. I’d be happy to make it up to you.”
She nodded once, and just as I reached my hand for the doorknob, she cleared her throat. I turned back to her, and she stood behind her desk.
“You know,” she said, and I tilted my head at her gentle tone, “I like this side of you—this smiling person, this new girl that you’ve become. I like it a lot.”
“Yeah, me, too,” I said, returning her smile. “I’ll see you around, Georgia.”
“Mandy,” she said, just as I turned away again. “Have lunch with us today, okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling an even bigger smile stretch across my face. “Yeah, okay. That sounds great. I’ll see you at lunch then.”
Breaking Rules Page 19
