Stop the Presses!

by Rachel Wise

  “That’s tough, Sam,” he said. We were at his house hanging out. “Did you tell her that you didn’t mean to send it?”

  “I didn’t get a chance,” I said. “And that would just sound stupid anyway. I wrote it, so obviously I felt that way. Whether I sent it or not doesn’t really matter.”

  “That’s true,” he said. “I still think you both just need to tell each other how you feel.”

  “That’s a little hard to do when the other person won’t listen,” I said. “Not that I blame her.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure out it,” Michael said. “And if you need my help, I’ll be there.”

  “I know,” I said. “I do have one favor to ask you.”

  “Sure. What do you need?” Michael asked.

  “Could you pitch a little better the next time you play West Hills?” I joked. “Maybe even strike out Danny Stratham?”

  “Oh, that is a definite yes,” Michael replied.

  “Good,” I said. “Maybe a fastball or something.” I was totally joking around. I don’t really know the difference between a fastball and a curveball.

  “Well, aren’t you Little Miss Know-It-All herself?” said Michael, laughing.

  I stopped laughing. “Why would you say that?” I panicked. No one was supposed to know I was Dear Know-It-All.

  “Wait . . . what?” said Michael. “I was just joking.”

  “You said I was Know-It-All!” I said, my face getting hot.

  “Well . . . ,” said Michael, looking straight at me. “Aren’t you?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “Nope. Not me. Not at all. I mean, I never really know anything about anything. How could I know anything to write about? Or tell people what to do? I’m a mess.”

  Michael was smiling at me. “Okay,” he said. “You are Dear Know-Nothing.”

  “Yep!” I said. “That’s me!” I was trying to figure out if Michael believed me or if he was just teasing me. I was kind of tired from all the drama of the past few weeks. I didn’t want to guess anymore.

  “I don’t like Danny Stratham,” I said.

  “You said that,” said Michael.

  “I like you,” I said. Oh. My. God. Did I just say that? Did aliens come down and abduct my mouth?

  “I like you too, Sam,” said Michael. He was smiling a lot now.

  We sat there looking at each other for a while.

  “Okay, well, I should get going,” I said. “I told my mother I would be home by now.”

  “I’ll walk you halfway,” said Michael.

  I wondered if he noticed that I was walking really slowly. It was just kind of nice to be walking together, not saying anything.

  “Well, this is halfway,” he said. We stopped.

  He reached over and whispered in my ear, “I like you a lot, Sam.” Six little words. Six shocking words. I was so surprised I kind of whipped my head around, and when I did, his mouth landed on mine, and well . . . we kind of stayed there for a second. I don’t think he meant to kiss me. We were both a little startled. But neither of us really pulled away either. It. Was. Awesome. And at that moment, there was only one person I wanted to tell all about it.

  Chapter 12

  BREAKING NEWS: THERE ARE SOME THINGS YOU NEVER OUTGROW

  Allie came into my room on Saturday morning carrying a big package. It was a new comforter and sheet set for my bed, with inspirational words printed all over it. Perfect, of course.

  “Did you ever work things out with Hailey?” Allie asked.

  “Nope,” I said. “I really don’t know how to.”

  Allie and I stripped the sheets off my bed. She held up the jump rope that was still under my pillow.

  “What’s this?” she asked. “It seems like it would be a little uncomfortable to sleep on. Is it part of that new sleep routine?”

  “No.” I laughed. “It’s just a reminder.”

  I told Allie the story of the jump rope and how Hailey and I first became friends. It seemed like something that everyone should have known already, but I guess if you weren’t there, how would you know?

  “I think that’s your clue,” Allie said, holding up the jump rope.

  “It is?” I asked.

  “Yep,” said Allie. “You need to think about the reasons that you and Hailey first became friends, and you need to remind her of that.”

  “Did I ever tell you you’re amazing?” I asked.

  “Maybe once.” Allie laughed. “But keep saying it.”

  Allie had given me the seed for the perfect plan. I worked late into the night, a lot later than my sleep routine usually allowed, but on Sunday morning, I was all ready.

  I hit the print key on my computer, threw the paper in my backpack, and grabbed the jump rope.

  “Where are you going with that?” Mom asked as I headed out the door. “I haven’t seen you use that thing in years.”

  “I haven’t,” I said. “It’s just like riding a bicycle—something you never forget how to do. Oh, and I’m just running to Hailey’s for a little bit. Is that okay?”

  “It’s more than okay,” Mom replied, smiling. “Good luck!”

  I knew Hailey would be driving home with her family soon. They always had Sunday breakfast at the diner together, and I knew I was about to totally humiliate myself in front of them, but it didn’t matter. Some things are a lot more important.

  I planted myself on Hailey’s front lawn and attempted to jump rope. At first, I was as pathetic as the first time I tried to do it in the school yard. But it is like bike riding, something that sticks in your muscle memory, I guess. I jumped up and down and sang our favorite jump rope songs at the top of my lungs, just like I was little again.

  Hailey’s mom and dad pulled up and waved to me. I knew they probably thought I was crazy, but I also knew that like my mom, they knew how much this fight was hurting Hailey—and me. After the rest of her family went inside, Hailey stood at the car and stared at me. I didn’t care. I kept on jumping.

  “What are you doing, Sam?” Hailey asked. “You’re embarrassing yourself. You are really terrible at jumping rope. And we’re totally too old to be doing that.”

  “I don’t care,” I said.

  I kept on singing:

  “Strawberry shortcake

  Huckleberry pie

  Who’s going to be your lucky guy?

  A, B, C . . .”

  “That’s not how it goes, Sam,” Hailey said.

  “Oh yeah?” I replied. “Then show me.”

  I handed the jump rope to Hailey. She started jumping like an expert, of course.

  “Strawberry shortcake

  Cream on top

  Tell me the name of your sweetheart.

  Is it A, B, C . . . ?”

  “That’s how it goes,” Hailey said after she jumped all the way to Z.

  “Now I remember,” I said. “Do you remember when you gave me this jump rope?”

  Hailey started to cry. “I’m sorry, Sam,” she said. “I can’t.”

  “Hailey, please,” I said, starting to cry too. “Just give me five minutes. After all the jump roping we’ve shared, could you just give me five minutes?”

  It was working. Hailey put her head down, but didn’t leave. I picked up my backpack and took out the paper. I didn’t show her yet, but it was a four-page newspaper. I had spent all night writing and designing it. The headline on the front page read: Cherry Valley Rejoices as BFFs Reunite.

  There was no story under the headline, though.

  “I just want to show you something,” I said as I sat down on her front steps. “I made it for you.”

  I handed the newspaper to Hailey. She started to cry more when she read the headline.

  “I actually did it a little backward,” I said. “The front page is the latest news. The story starts inside.”

  I opened up the paper and pointed to the article on the top left. It was titled: Girl Takes Friend Under Her Wing in School Yard.

  I had found a picture of Hailey a
nd me jumping rope when we were little. Even though it wasn’t taken in the school yard, it fit the story perfectly. I wrote all about that day at recess. Every other article on the page was a story from our friendship. Martone Visits Best Friend in Hospital After Tonsillectomy; Hailey and Sam Head Off to Middle School; Hailey Victorious in Student Government Election.

  The last page was taken up by one story.

  Best Friends Fight; Observers Fear They Will Never Make Up.

  I wrote every single thing that happened in that story, from when I started feeling like Hailey had abandoned me to the moment when I knew that Hailey had mistakenly gotten my e-mail. I tried to be a good reporter and write a fair and balanced account. I really hoped that I had succeeded.

  Hailey stopped crying as she read all the stories. When she got to the end of the last page, she looked up at me.

  “I can’t believe you did all of this,” she said.

  “That’s what friends do,” I replied. “Hailey, I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry,” I continued. “I really thought you were trying to hurt me. And I just kept getting angrier and angrier about it. I should have told you how I felt from the beginning, but it always seemed like you were too busy to talk to me.”

  “I thought you were trying to hurt me,” Hailey said. “I thought you would be so excited about a digital edition—it’s the way almost every newspaper is heading, so I thought it would give you a great start for your journalism career. I was so excited to announce it and I was so proud of the GO GO name. I thought you’d love it. I never thought you’d be mad about it.”

  “Well, I was,” I said. “I guess I thought you knew me better. Anyway, we obviously have a lot to work out,” I added. “That’s why I left the front page blank. I was hoping that even if you can’t be my best friend again, we can at least figure out a way to be nice to each other.”

  “Um . . . why can’t we be best friends again?” Hailey asked.

  There were so many things I wanted to say when Hailey said that, but none of them could really express the way I was feeling. So I just put my head on her shoulder and cried. I felt Hailey’s head rest on mine, and our tears mixed together and splattered on the front page. It was like they were writing the cover story.

  “Hey, did you know that Allie redecorated my room?” I sniffed.

  “Are you kidding me?” Hailey said. “I have got to see that. Is it gold and bright pink?”

  “Why don’t you come over?” I suggested. “It’s actually pretty amazing.”

  “I’d like to,” Hailey said.

  I handed the newspaper to Hailey and she ran inside to put it away and to tell her parents that she was going to my house for a bit. She came out with her old jump rope in her hand.

  I’m sure that if anyone from Cherry Valley Middle School saw us skipping down the street singing jump rope songs, they would have wondered what was wrong with us. They probably would have said something like, “Look at those two girls skipping rope down the street! They are too old to be doing something as silly as that.” We didn’t care. We had each other. Nothing else mattered. That’s what friends are for.

  If you enjoyed the Dear Know-It-All books, check out this new Simon Spotlight series:

  Chapter

  One

  “It’s soooo hot in Texas!”

  “It’s soooo hot in Texas!”

  Alex and Ava Sackett blurted out the same words at the same time. They did this a lot. Their mom always said it was a twin thing.

  “If someone handed me a pair of scissors right now, I’d chop off my entire ponytail,” said Ava.

  “Then I suppose it’s a good thing the scissors are still packed in a box somewhere,” sighed their mother.

  Alex rolled her eyes. “Must you always speak in such hyperbole, Ava?” She bumped her sister over a fraction of an inch. “Don’t hog the fan. And don’t even kid about chopping off your perfect, gorgeous curls!”

  The two girls were sitting on the floor, sprawled against the wall of their new living room, sharing a single, not-very-large fan.

  “Who’s kidding?” Ava replied, bumping her sister back. “You have perfect, gorgeous curls. My hair is just a giant pain.”

  “What are you talking about?” Alex asked indignantly. “We have the exact same hair!”

  As she spoke, Alex patted her own hair as if to make sure it was still there. It was, of course—piled into a topknot that was both stylish and practical in the scorching heat. Ava’s chocolate-brown curls, on the other hand, were gathered into a messy ponytail. Loose strands had escaped and were plastered to her neck, making her even hotter. Ava couldn’t help but notice that Alex’s hair had stayed put on top of her head and wasn’t stuck to her neck.

  “Girls, it’s too hot to bicker,” said Mrs. Sackett. She’d given up trying to unpack the kitchen and was splayed in the one chair not stacked with boxes and other junk. She lifted the already-melting, ice-filled bag from the top of her head and applied it to the sides of her neck, like she was dabbing herself with perfume. “I’m sure your father will have the AC up and running any minute now.”

  From the office, Alex and Ava’s older brother, Tommy, let loose a triumphant cry. He appeared in the doorway holding a second fan above his head, like a wide receiver who’d just scored the winning touchdown. “Found it!” he said, shoving a box out of the way to plug it in. He, too, slumped to the floor to bask in the flowing air, which rippled his own brown curls.

  Ava got tired of jockeying for space in front of the fan. She stood up and drifted lazily over to the window, which looked out over the backyard. Beyond the fence was the backyard of the house on the next block in their development, and beyond that, a vast, treeless landscape, flat as an ocean, all browns, grays, and gray-greens. The colors in Texas were very different from the lush darker greens of their backyard outside of Boston.

  Across the room she could see through the doorway into the kitchen, where their Australian shepherd, Moxy, lay on her side, panting. The kitchen floor was probably the coolest surface in the house, but that wasn’t saying much. Moxy looked at Ava, the whites of her eyes visible as she gazed upward, as if asking Ava to explain what on earth had happened to the Sackett family. One day they were in Massachusetts, with a backyard full of squirrels to chase and lavish garden beds to dig up, and the next they were in dry, barren Texas, where it was too hot for any self-respecting dog to even consider chasing after a squirrel.

  Suddenly there was a groan and a whir and then a whoosh, and the air conditioner started up. All four of them cheered. Almost immediately, cool air began flowing through the house.

  “Thank goodness,” said their mom.

  “Here comes Daddy,” said Alex, as they heard footsteps bounding through the kitchen.

  Coach Mike Sackett stepped over Moxy and joined his family in the living room. The air-conditioner repairman followed behind him.

  “Much appreciated, Bill,” said their father to the repairman, shaking his hand.

  Bill saluted. “No problem, Coach,” he said. “I’m sure y’all will get used to the Texas heat eventually. Must be quite a change from where you folks came from.”

  Coach nodded. “We’ll get used to it, and everything else,” he said, leading the man toward the front door.

  “Practice start tomorrow?” Bill asked.

  “Yes sir, it sure does.”

  “Team look okay?”

  Coach chuckled. “We’re young. It’s going to be a rebuilding year, but I have high hopes for the boys,” he said.

  Bill hovered in the doorway, not yet ready to leave. “So what’s your strategy against Culver City, Coach? I was talking to some of the guys at the shop, and they were saying Culver’s got more size this year. You’ll probably want to spread the field, right?”

  Coach patted him on the back and guided him out the front door. “That makes sense. I appreciate the perspective,” he said, and waved the man out.

  “Another football fan!” said Mrs. Sackett with
a little laugh as Coach shut the door. “There seem to be a lot of them in Ashland!”

  Coach grinned. “It’s just the culture,” he said. “Lots of die-hard football types. It was the same way when I was growing up around here. Everyone in Ashland pays attention to the Ashland Tigers. It’s a nice, close-knit community, Laur. You’ll see. I’m going to watch some film.”

  “Ooh! What film are you going to watch, Daddy? Can I watch with you?” asked Alex, who had paused in the doorway.

  Now it was Ava’s turn to look at her sister in exasperation.

  Coach grinned at Alex. “Not a film, honey. Just ‘film.’ In this case, footage of last year’s squad, so I can get a better sense of the strengths and weaknesses of our returners.”

  Alex pouted. “Oh, right. Never mind.” She headed upstairs.

  Alone with her mother in the room, Ava moved over to the window again and stared moodily outside.

  Mrs. Sackett softly cleared her throat. “Anything wrong, pumpkin?”

  Ava shrugged. “Nah. It’s just . . . different here. I’ll get used to it. I guess I miss my old room. And—my friends and stuff.”

  “Have you heard from Charlie?” asked her mother gently, not probing.

  Ava nodded and swallowed. “Yeah. I think we’re good. I guess he’s really excited about football this year—he’s been practicing a lot.”

  Charlie was her best friend back in Massachusetts. Alex was better friends with Charlie’s twin, Isabel. Ava and Charlie had been inseparable since T-ball days. Their moms had met at a group for mothers of twins when all the kids were babies, and they had remained good friends. But in the past year, things had been . . . different between her and Charlie. He’d suddenly blushed practically every time she said anything to him. Pass the ketchup, please. Blush. Want to have a catch? Blush. That kind of thing. Well, maybe it was his red hair. Redheaded people blushed easily.

  With a heavy sigh, her mom picked up a box marked KITCHEN STUFF. “It’s hard for all of us, Ave,” she said.