Black and White and Gray All Over (5 page)

“What?” I was confused.

“Do nothing,” Allie repeated.

I was stunned. “I do
nothing
while Miss UK steals the love of my life?”

“That's right!” said Allie, standing again and stretching.

“But why?” I said frantically.

“You just wait and see,” said Allie mysteriously. “Trust me. Things are going to go your way.” And she left, leaving me sitting at the table stumped.
Journalist's Brain Explodes from Confusion.

Huh.

The next day I nearly stabbed Hailey with my fork at lunch in the cafeteria.

How's that for a lead sentence? A lead (rhymes with
steed
, not head) is the first line a journalist writes in an article. It's meant to grab the reader's attention and also answer the five W's of journalism: Who, What, When, Where, and Why.

Who: Hailey and I

What: Fork stabbing

When: Lunchtime

Where: The cafeteria

Why: It's complicated. (Okay, the lead didn't answer that, but I will now.)

Here's why: Hailey and I were finally having a fun lunch, just the two of us—no Jenna, no Kristen or Meg or Tricia or any randoms, just a good old-fashioned catch-up between besties. I didn't even mention Michael Lawrence. It was that good. We talked about the school uniform thing, and Hailey said she liked Allie's “keep it simple” concept. She'd be
for
uniforms, but preferred a pants option for girls, of course. We talked about her watercolor class and how nice the teacher is and how most of the other students are adults and one is this really cute college guy who's nice to her and Jenna and shows them how to perfect their techniques. We chatted on and on, and then Kate Bigley walked into the cafeteria. My eyes instinctively searched the room for Michael Lawrence, but to my relief he was sitting with his whole basketball team at a table way off in the corner. You'd have to really know what you were looking for to find him, because he was pretty hidden.

Kate got her lunch and stood with her tray in her hand, looking around for a place to sit.

Hailey spotted her and said, “Hey, there's that girl who stole your life.”

We looked at Kate in silence for a second, and then Hailey said quietly, “She's actually pretty nice. She was cracking me up in PE yesterday.”

I rolled my eyes. “She isn't that nice; trust me.”

“I hate to ask, but do you really think it was her fault that Mr. Trigg assigned her the article?”

I scoffed and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I guess that wasn't
technically
her fault, but she could have turned him down.

“Oh, great. Now she's looking this way,” said Hailey. “The poor thing. She has nowhere to go. I'm waving her over.”

And before I could stop her, Hailey was up out of her seat, waving Kate Bigley to our table.

Kate smiled a huge smile of relief and headed our way.

“Hailey!” I hissed.
Journalist Stabs Former Best Friend with Fork.

“Samantha Martone, you should be ashamed
of yourself. How would you like to be new in a foreign school in a foreign country?” said Hailey indignantly.

“But she stole my—” I couldn't finish because Kate was upon us.

“Hello! Thank you ever so much! I felt like such a dolt standing there with no friends,” Kate chattered as she sat down.

“No problema,” said Hailey. “That's American for ‘no problem,' by the way,” she said graciously.

“Hailey!” I laughed in spite of myself. “That's Spanish, you dope!”

“Oh, whatever. I'm dyslexic,” she announced. Hailey always made that announcement up front when she met new people. I think it took the pressure off her a little, and it kept things from getting awkward in case someone said or asked the wrong thing.

“Really? So's my brother,” said Kate, taking a bite out of a big turkey sandwich. The girl had an appetite, judging from what was on her tray. My feelings toward her softened a millimeter based on just that. I really can't stand tiny salad eaters. I
mean, come on! I know they're hungry! Why won't they just admit it?

The two of them launched into discussing the special boarding school Kate's brother had started attending in the fourth grade and how it had changed his life.

“I really think he was depressed before. He always felt dumb, the poor bloke, even though he was a star on the cricket pitch and the football field. Now he knows he's smart as anything and he just needs to approach things sideways rather than head-on. I've bet him he'll end up at Oxford.”

Hailey was fascinated, and I could see she wanted to learn more.

I hadn't said anything yet and it was a little awkward. “So it's pretty funny that you ended up as a writer, with your brother having such a hard time of it,” I said.

“I know. We always joke about it. We complement each other. I need him for sports and activity encouragement, and he needs me to proofread his work.”

Hailey and I smiled at each other. “That's like us!” said Hailey.

“I love writing,” I said, warming to the conversation in spite of myself.

“Oh, me too,” agreed Kate, beginning a bowl of fruit salad. “And Mr. Trigg is so nice. I'm not just saying that because he's British, either.”

“I know. He's great. But I'm a little annoyed with him right now,” I said.

Hailey shot me a warning look, but I wasn't going to bring up Kate's article, obviously. Just the sexist thing.

“Why?” asked Kate.

I winced. “Well . . . he made a pretty sexist comment, and it bothered me,” I said. And I filled her in.

“Wow. I can't believe that. You should stand up to him on that,” she said. Her eyebrows arched and her cheeks turned pink. “Just on principle. But the truth is”—her voice lowered to a whisper—“girls really do tend to like fashion more than boys do, right?” She giggled.

I smiled a little. “I guess,” I said. It made me
think for a minute: Was I madder at Trigger for giving my article to Kate, or for the sexist comment? It was hard to say.

“I'm still jealous you got that article,” said Kate.

What?

I swallowed hard. “Why?” I asked, trying to keep the shock out of my voice.

Kate's bright blue eyes sparkled. “My dream is to be an entertainment reporter. I absolutely
love
writing articles about celebrities and lifestyle and, most of all, fashion. Anything to do with clothes is right up my alley. Not that it isn't fun working with Michael,” she added.

I'd been growing comfortable with our conversation, and now I felt like I'd been punched. And anyway, what was that supposed to mean? They
were
having fun? Or
weren't
they? Was she saying it just to be nice or bragging? I couldn't tell.

“Oh,” I said. “Yes.” I searched Kate's face for clues, but she looked neutral.

“I'd love your advice sometime on all this, by the way,” said Kate. Her eyes were downcast as
she toyed with the brownie on her plate.

“Sure,” I said stiffly. Advice on what? Michael? The paper? Was she going to ask for tips on how to get him to ask her out? OMG.

“Well, as much as I find it fascinating to hear you two talk about journalism,” said Hailey dryly, “it's time for me to head off to language arts. Have fun in earthonomics, Sam.”

Kate laughed. “Where on earth do you get these class titles?”

“Ha! Read Sam's article!” Hailey picked up her tray and took off. “Catch ya later, Martone,” she called out over her shoulder.

“Is there an article?” asked Kate.

I tried to relax and forget that Kate might be in love with my crush. Other than that, she was pretty nice and we definitely had some common interests.

“Yes, when they changed it all around in the fall, Trigger had us—Michael and me—write an article about it. It was pretty heated,” I admitted, smiling at the memory of all the drama that surrounded not only the curriculum changes but
Michael's and my reporting of it. I wondered now if we'd ever have that opportunity again.

“Aha! One of the famous Martone/Lawrence stories! I can't wait to read it!” said Kate brightly. “I'll look it up in the archive.”

We brought our trays to the window and headed out together. I glanced at the table where Michael had been sitting, hoping he'd see his former and current partners walking together and worry what we were saying about him, but I was out of luck. He was gone.

As we walked to class, Kate began to fill me in a tiny bit on how homesick she was, how awkward she'd been feeling as the new girl, and how grateful she was to have stopped by the newspaper office, since it gave her a reason to talk to people. I hadn't thought of it that way before. Certainly I'd seen how it would be scary and lonely to start at a new school, but the newspaper—or any activity, for that matter—did give you a good “in” for finding people you'd have something in common with. But I'd assumed she was a hotshot
journalist looking to show off her skills and teach us Americans a little thing or two about how they do it on Fleet Street (that's the journalism capital of London). Little did I know.

I guess what Allie had said was true: You do have to walk a mile in someone's stilettos to know what they're going through. Who knew Allie would be the soul of sensitivity?

We reached my classroom door, and Kate said, “Thanks so much for letting me sit with you girls today. I had a lovely time.”

“Yeah, that was fun,” I said, surprised but kind of meaning it.

“We should get together again and you can fill me in on the paper and everyone there and how it all runs,” she said.

“Okay,” I agreed. It might be nice to have a good girlfriend on the paper, I suddenly realized. Someone who loves writing as much as I do, someone who shares my interests, the way Hailey now has Jenna.

“Great. Because I was on track to be editor in chief at my school paper, and now my mom is
pushing me to go out for it here.” She laughed. “Is your mom pushy?”

But the blood had drained out of my head. “Um. No,” I said distractedly.
Editor in chief?
But that was going to be
my
job. I felt sick suddenly and needed to sit down. “Okay, bye,” I said.

“Toodles!” said Kate, and she walked off.

Toodles?

Oh dear.

I don't even remember what we learned in earthonomics that day. Only that I bit my nails down to nubs, something I hadn't done in a year.
Job Security Threatened, Journalist Caves.

The next day I ran into Michael in the hall at my locker. I don't know why he was down there since his locker is way at the other end of the hall. I was bursting with joy at seeing him but also generally kind of angry at him for being joined with Kate, even if it hadn't been his choice.

“What's up, Pasty?” he asked.