by Sandra Byrd
“Savannah Smith?” Jack asked.
I nodded and swallowed drily. “Yes.”
“I’d like to offer you the open slot on the paper,” he said. “Your sample article was extremely well written. It’s an experience-required position, but you did say you have experience, right?”
Time to give the lie a big fat lunch.
I glanced over his shoulder and saw Hazelle standing there primly cradling her books in her arms. She didn’t move, and it was obvious she was eavesdropping on our conversation and waiting for my answer.
“Yes, I have experience with the newspaper back in the U.S.,” I said. Well, I did. Honestly. He didn’t specify what kind of experience was required.
“Brilliant!” He flashed that smile at me. “You’ll work out just fine. It will be interesting to get an American point of view. Are you available before school Monday morning? Half seven?”
My eyeballs felt like they were going to pop with the tension. “Yes, yes I am.” Small beads of sweat gathered at my hairline. I hoped he couldn’t see them. “Half seven?”
“Half past seven, of course,” he said. “I’ll meet you in the newspaper office then.” He walked down the hall, toward his next class, I guessed.
Hazelle looked me hard in the face and said, in what I took to be her best journalist voice, “It’s rather easy to verify facts on the Internet, isn’t it? Even halfway around the world.” I think her curly brown hair got even frizzier when she was worked up. Then she headed into our classroom.
How did she know? The answer, of course, was fairly obvious. She was a journalist. While Jack and I were talking, she’d been observing me.
All right. So I’d gone and told the tiniest little lie. Unfortunately, little lies can morph into big trouble. The longer I sat with the knowledge of it, the sicker I felt. I had no idea if Jack would ever find out about the, um, inconsistency, but with the Internet, as Hazelle said, you never know.
Anything is possible.
That night I shared the “good” news with my family, who rejoiced with me.
“I’m so proud of you,” Dad said. Don’t be, I wanted to tell him.
They called all the relatives in Seattle and let them know the great news that I was now a journalist and that London was working out fine for me. I heard Mom promise to send many copies of the paper with my first article in it. Then she passed the phone to me so everyone could congratulate me. They all knew how much I’d hoped to write for the school paper back in Seattle.
Mom made Chinese food to celebrate. I avoided the fortune cookies.
Chapter 11
Monday morning I got up early and checked my laptop for messages. Maybe Hazelle had said something to Jack and he’d changed his mind.
A forward from my grandmother on the dangers of heavy backpacks.
Spam for ultraexpensive shampoo that was not in my budget. Nothing else.
I went to a journalism Web site I’d saved to my Favorites and scanned it. One thing caught my eye right off:
Test the accuracy of information from all sources and exercise care to avoid inadvertent error. Deliberate distortion is never permissible.
I rehearsed all the way to school what I’d say to Jack. I figured I had several options: I could continue to let him believe I had experience. I could let Hazelle tell him the truth, if she ever was able to prove it. Or I could tell him myself. Do the right thing, I heard a voice inside say. It always pays off.
Was that a fortune cookie saying? Sounded more like Scripture to me, but I couldn’t place it.
When I walked into the newspaper office, Jack waved. I lifted my hand and waved back limply. He motioned to a seat, and I sat there waiting, listening to the music of fingers on the keyboard and breathing in the ink-on-newsprint smell. After a minute, I heard Jack call my name.
“Savannah, come on in here.” I stood up and willed my weak knees not to wobble as I made my way to his office.
“Savvy,” I managed to get out.
“Savvy, then. Have a seat.” Jack pointed to a wooden chair across from his scratched-up desk. As the editor, he was the only one who had a personal office. It was a cubby, really, but it made it just a little more private than the open area where everyone else worked. “Everyone’s pushing hard since this week’s edition is going out today,” he said.
I sat down and set my book bag beside my feet. One of my chair legs was shorter than the other three; I dug my feet into the floor so I wouldn’t lose my balance and tip over.
“Tell me about your newspaper experience at your school in the States.” Jack twirled a Wexburg Academy Times pen between his thumb and forefinger as he talked.
Even if he hated me and wanted nothing further to do with me after he found out what I was about to say, I hoped he wouldn’t tell anyone else about the lie. Wasn’t keeping confidentiality one of the journalistic codes, after all? “Well, it’s a little bit different than I might have let on,” I started. I saw his jaw set a little. No turning back now, I thought. Out with the whole truth.
“Last year in Seattle, I was in ninth grade, which was junior high at my school. Our junior high didn’t have a paper, only the high school. So my English teacher helped me write some . . . practice articles. She contacted the faculty adviser at the high school and told him that I’d make a really good writer. And that he should hold a space for me at the paper when I got to high school. Only . . . we moved to London instead. So here I am.”
“I see,” Jack said. “So your actual published newspaper writing would amount to . . .”
“Nothing,” I admitted. I looked down at my feet. “I did take pictures of sports events for the yearbook. And I wrote the captions.”
I saw Hazelle striding toward Jack and me. “Jack, I need you for a moment,” she said importantly. “Deadline, you know . . .”
“Excuse me for a second.” He turned toward her. She asked him a question about the article she was working on, and after he answered her, he turned back to me.
“We don’t really take on interns,” he said. “It’s a bit dodgy. Most of our staff has had some experience, and well, to be honest, the paper isn’t as popular as it once was. Our budget has been cut back. We have the smallest, oldest facility in the school. Our staff doesn’t have a lot of time to develop new writers, and I had to plead to add one more person to the staff already.”
“I can write though,” I said. “I wouldn’t be trouble at all. I want to help.”
Jack sat there for a moment before sighing. “I like you, Savvy. I just don’t have a place for you or time to develop a new writer. As it is—” his face turned glum—“there may not be a Wexburg Academy Times for long. Fewer and fewer students read the paper. Computers and texting and online social networks and all that. This may be our last year.”
“That’s terrible.”
He nodded his agreement and then snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! Do you really want to help?”
“Of course!” I said, my hopes soaring. In my mind’s eye, I could see it now. I’d come on staff and write an article about how the lack of newspapers in schools was causing the reading level to go down and was contributing to the dropout rate and how important it was to keep a newspaper at the school. The school staff would be in complete agreement, and the newspaper would be saved. All because of me!
“Savvy!” Jack’s voice popped the bubble in my imagination. I came back to earth to see him standing a few feet away, next to a big red wagon. I knew all about these kinds of wagons. I’d pulled the screaming baby to the park in one.
“We need someone to deliver the papers across the campus,” Jack said, waving his hand toward the wagon, which still had a few wet, lonely papers desperately clinging to its insides. “We had someone, but he got detention too many times and was disallowed from school activities. Last week’s edition went out late and was poorly distributed.”
I stood up, and as I did, I could see Hazelle smirking a few feet away. She stood next to an older girl who frown
ed at Hazelle. She, too, seemed to be waiting to talk with Jack.
“Deliver the papers . . . ,” I said. “In the wagon.”
Jack nodded enthusiastically. “You’d still be officially on staff. You could sit with us at the lunch table, you know, listen in on the conversations, pick up on newspaper business around the office.”
“I’d give you the odd tip here and there,” the older girl said to me.
“Thanks, Melissa.” Jack flashed that smile at her and then at me. How could I refuse that smile?
At least it was a foot in the door, right? Melissa seemed nice. And I didn’t want to give Hazelle the satisfaction of seeing me humiliated, though that might not have been the best motivation.
“Can I give you my answer later today?” I said. I wanted time to think, and to pray.
“Sure,” Jack said. “Leave your contact information, and I’ll be in touch by the end of the day. Cheerio.” Then someone called to him from across the room. I heard the first bell ring and knew I needed to get to class within three minutes. I turned to say good-bye, but they were already deep in deadline talk.
I felt crushed. I’d done the right thing—told the truth—but it hadn’t paid off for me. I looked longingly over the newsroom, wishing I could roll up my sleeves and find that fresh angle along with the rest of them. Not deliver the papers. Distracted, I scribbled down my info and left it on Jack’s desk before making my way to maths . . . with Hazelle.
Chapter 12
“I’m home,” I called out as I walked in the door after school and threw my book bag into the corner. Growl came running around the corner. He had a piece of paper stuck to one of his teeth, and when I got close to him, I noticed he smelled like vanilla body mist. “What have you been into?” I asked, and then, realizing what kind of paper was stuck in his teeth, ran up the stairs.
“Ooh, you little mutt!” I surveyed my room. He’d shredded almost all my magazines into pieces and apparently had rolled in the perfume samples. He barked at me once as if to say, “I win!” before he ran back down the stairs.
My mom came into the room. “What happened here? You haven’t been home long enough to make a mess,” she said.
“Not me,” I grumbled before pointing at the dog. “It!”
“How did the newspaper meeting go?”
“They did invite me on staff.” As the delivery girl, I added silently. But I couldn’t disappoint her yet. She’d been hopeful for the first time in weeks, thinking that both her girls were settling in. I’ll come up with something, I thought, knowing in my heart that I was wading deeper into the swamp.
“Wonderful, honey!” She brushed my hair back away from my face with her hands and gave my cheek a kiss.
“The editor is calling later tonight with some information for me.”
Mom nodded. “I’m proud of you. And you gave me a good example. You’ll be glad to know I made an effort to make a friend too. I talked with the next-door neighbor lady today—you know, Vivienne? She mentioned her book club, and I told her I love to read and would enjoy meeting with them sometime. She smiled at me but didn’t really ask me to join them. Maybe she just has to speak with the others first. She’ll probably come over soon with an invitation.”
I nodded and kicked a magazine remnant on the floor. That dog. All my Teen Vogues. And a Sweet 16.
“I’m going to start dinner and help Louanne with her homework.” Mom headed for the door. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. Hang out,” I said. “Homework.”
She nodded and closed the door behind her. I picked up all the paper scraps from the floor and threw them into the garbage can, er, dustbin. I looked at my watch. Wonder what time Jack will call. Before dinner? After?
To distract myself, I yanked my guitar case from under my bed, took the guitar out, and started strumming a Taylor Swift song I’d been working on. Playing music always made me feel better. Within the minute, Growl started whining outside my closed door. I stopped playing, and he stopped whining. I started again, and he started in again too. Finally I got out my amp and plugged in the guitar. I played louder. Growl moved from whine to howl. I turned the amp up and started singing louder.
Whose house was this anyway?
I heard the doorbell ring. Funny. We never had company. Aunt Maude? I opened my door and hid behind the railing so I could hear but not be seen.
“Hello, Vivienne!” I could hear the pleasure in Mom’s voice. “I’m so pleased to see you. Would you like to come in?”
Please, God, I prayed, let Vivienne invite Mom to the book club.
“No thanks. I’ll just be a minute. I—I wanted to tell you that, well, in this neighborhood, sound travels. Especially when we share a wall. That kind of racket—terribly sorry to inconvenience you—but we can hear it in every room at my house.”
“I apologize. We just got the dog a few weeks ago—he was a stray who took a liking to my daughter. I’ll see if we can keep him quiet.”
I stood a few feet away, hidden by the staircase, steaming. Is this dog going to ruin everything?
“I don’t mean the dog, of course,” Vivienne said. “Dogs are fine. I meant that very loud guitar and . . . ah . . . the singing that accompanied it.”
She didn’t mind the dog howling, but she minded me?
“Oh, well, we’re sorry. I’ll speak with my daughter, and we’ll keep it quiet.”
There was a long-drawn-out silence.
“Is there anything else?” Mom spoke up hopefully.
“No, nothing,” Vivienne said.
As I came down the stairs, Mom shut the door behind her and stood there for a minute, her eyes downcast and the tiny wrinkle on her forehead deeper than it had been for a while.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, coming over to her.
“Oh, pshaw.” She waved me away. “Your music wasn’t that loud. Still, no amp from now on.”
“I mean I’m sorry she didn’t say anything about the book club.”
“Yes,” Mom said softly. “Me too.”
I went back to my room and checked my phone again. No message from Jack. No missed calls. I wished he’d call or text.
I’d decided what I was going to do.
Chapter 13
All through dinner I kept looking at the clock. I mean, didn’t he say he’d call today? Maybe he’d found someone else. Great. I’d been turned down for not only the writing job but the delivery job too.
After dinner Dad went to work on the computer while Mom washed the dishes by hand. I was halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rang. Louanne’s hand reached out and grabbed the dog by the collar. “Stay, Giggle!” she commanded. And he did.
“I’ll get it,” I said. I opened the door. “Jack!” I was hoping to hide the shock in my voice and on my face.
“Hullo, Savvy.” His face was flushed and his eyes brighter than usual. “Sorry I’m a bit late. Autumn rugby, you know.”
“Oh, no problem. I’d just expected you to call, not visit, that’s all.”
He held out a piece of paper. “I had planned to ring you up, but you wrote down your address, not your phone number.”
I felt my neck go hot. I’d been so distracted this morning. “I’m sorry!” I said, but I didn’t invite him in, though I knew it would have been polite to do so. First, I was worried that Louanne couldn’t keep her grip on the dog’s collar. Second, I didn’t want him to say anything about delivering, rather than writing for, the paper.
“I—I’ve decided to deliver the papers,” I said, holding my head high. I supposed it wouldn’t be the end of the world to be known as Paper Delivery Girl. Maybe ten feet from the end of the world, but not exactly the end of the world.
He smiled that smile just for me, and for that moment everything seemed okay and worthwhile.
“I’m so glad—I was hoping you’d say that. I brought this, just in case.” He handed over a laminated map. “It shows all the drop-offs for the Wexburg Academy Times. If you start between seve
n and half seven you should get them all out before first bell.”
I took the list and map from his hand.
“And here’s this, too.” Jack handed over a large, yellowed linen bag. It had a few ink stains inside and out. “You didn’t seem to want to use the wagon. You can put the papers in here.”
I looked at the bag. It had a distinct odor, perhaps like cheese that had been left in the back of the refrigerator for a few months. I knew I didn’t want to smell like that all day after carrying the bag. “Thank you,” I said, clenching it up into a little ball so I could sneak it into the house.
“No, thank you,” Jack said. “I’m so glad you’re willing to help—to do whatever we need. It’s that kind of attitude that really makes a team brilliant. Be sure to sit with us at lunch tomorrow . . . okay?” He flashed that smile, and the grotty delivery bag was momentarily forgotten.
“I will.”
He grinned and turned to leave. After he’d made it down our front steps and a few feet away, I heard Louanne yell, “Giggle! Come!”
This time Giggle didn’t obey. Instead, he bolted down the hall, past me, and out the front door, teeth bared. Thankfully, he stopped at the foot of our stairs.
“Come here, boy,” I shouted into the dark. “Now!”
Giggle turned and silently ran into the house, obeying me for the first time ever. However, I was horrified to see Jack stop walking and then turn and look at me.
“Were you talking to me?” he asked.
Apparently Jack hadn’t seen the dog in the dark.
“Oh no,” I said quickly. “I was talking to my sister’s dog.”
He looked around for evidence of the dog, which, of course, had disappeared. “Oh. All right then. See you tomorrow.” He turned and continued down the street.
I slunk into the house, shut the door behind me, and buried my hot face deep into the balled-up newspaper delivery sack.
Chapter 14