Front Page Face-Off (18 page)

You have to tell Mrs. Bradford about this.” Jenner gave me a tissue and a hug. “This whole nightmare's been going on too long.”

I just blubbered into the tissue and shook my head.

Jenner sighed. “Delilah, this little war with Ava is getting serious. One of you needs to stop it, and if you tell Mrs. Bradford, she can send out a correction in the next issue
and
punish Ava.”

“It won't matter,” I squeaked. “The damage is done.”

Someone gasped behind us, and I turned to see Paige running toward
me, hand pressed to her forehead. “What
happened
?”

“Ava stole my article.” I sniffled.

Paige shook her head. “I meant your outfit. It's like my worst nightmare come true!”

Jenner pushed her. “
Not
helping. Can't you see Delilah's in pain?”

I handed Paige the newspaper, and she frowned. “How did Ava steal your article? Your name's right here.” She jabbed at the piece I'd written on Jenner.

“No!” I moaned. “I'm talking about the one on Marcus.”

“Oh!” She studied the page for a moment. “Your writing's much better in this one.”

The crying must have clouded my brain. Was the girl who could barely read really criticizing my journalism skills?

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Well, I'm pretty sure ‘surfer' doesn't have a ‘ph' in it. And you have a lot of sentences that just stop mid-thought.”

I lowered her hand so I could read the Jenner interview. Sure enough, the entire article looked as if it had been written by a third grader.

“Arghhhh!” I took the front page and ripped it into a thousand pieces. “That's not what I turned in! That
little …” I launched into a slew of insults that would
never
be allowed in any article.

“Tell Mrs. Bradford,” Jenner repeated. “I'm sure she can clear up the whole thing.”

I grabbed a fresh copy of the paper off the news rack and stormed into the journalism room, where Ben was already talking with Mrs. Bradford. When they saw me, they both spoke at once.

“I don't know what happened,” said Ben.

“We can have it corrected next week,” said Mrs. Bradford.

I threw the paper onto the table and pointed to Ben. “I can tell you
exactly
what happened. Your girlfriend put her name on my Marcus article and ruined my Jenner article to get back at me for Saturday.”

Mrs. Bradford stepped closer and put a hand on my arm. “I'm sure that's not the case. No member of the paper would deliberately do something like that. It was an accident.”

“No, it wasn't!” I shouted. “You have to get this fixed today!”

Mrs. Bradford folded her hands and brought them to her lips. “Delilah, I think you're overreacting a little. This isn't that big of a deal.”

Ben nodded. “And I know Ava. She would never hurt anyone.”

I just stared at them both, unable to form a single sentence that wouldn't include the words “you” and “suck.”

Ben took my silence as a chance to add, “It's just the first issue. You can get it right the next time.”

If I'd had superpowers, Ben would have been nothing but a pile of ashes. “Get it right the
next time
? There was nothing wrong with it the first time!” Turning on my heel, I left the room, slamming the door behind me.

“So … maybe telling Mrs. Bradford wasn't a good idea,” said Jenner.

I shook my head, running both hands through my hair. “She won't help me. She—” I paused at the sound of an annoyingly familiar French voice, coming from around the corner.

“You are too kind,” said Ava. “My article was good, but not
wonderful
.”

“It really was,” a girl's voice insisted. “I never knew Marcus until I read your work.”

My eyes widened, and I gaped at Jenner and Paige.

Ava laughed. “Well, thank you. I wanted to give him a chance after that cruel article Delilah James wrote about him last year. I thought it would make him feel better to know
someone
at the school treats him like a person.”

I sputtered for a moment and lunged forward to poke Ava's eyes out with my pencil, but Jenner and Paige each took one of my arms.

“You're only going to make this worse,” whispered Jenner.

“Ava might claw you,” whispered Paige. “And you can't risk facial trauma before the Debutante selection.”

On the other side of the wall, Ava continued to brag. “People said the Swirlie Bandit could never be tamed. …”

“His name is
Marcus
,” I growled under my breath.

“But I guess he just needed to meet the right girl,” Ava finished.

“You're amazing,” said someone else, a guy this time. “I thought you'd hate him after he fought your boyfriend Saturday night.”

I gave Jenner and Paige a smug smile. I couldn't wait to see how Ava answered
that
.

Without skipping a beat, she purred, “I know it was not his fault. He was just too distraught at being forced to take Delilah to the social.”

“What?!” The word exploded from my lips before I could stop it. Shaking off Jenner and Paige, I stormed around the corner and into Ava's face. “I did
not
force him to go with me, and you did
not
write that article.” I pointed at a copy of the paper she was holding. “I did!”

Ava turned to the guy and girl with her and smirked. “Of course, Delilah. You wrote it. Whatever you say.”

The guy and girl shook their heads piteously at me.

“She did!” Jenner stepped up beside me. “She even made Marcus go to the social with her so …” She faltered under
Ava's triumphant gaze. “I mean … she didn't
make
him.”

I closed my eyes and groaned. “Jenner.”

“You are a horrible person,” the girl with Ava said to me in disgust. “First, you try and steal Ava's boyfriend, then you try and steal her
article
?”

“It was
my
article!” With an enraged growl I grabbed Jenner's arm and hauled her away. After what had happened Saturday, everyone was on Ava's side. There was no point in trying to talk through the matter.

It was time for action.

I let go of Jenner once we were back with Paige and headed for the entrance to the school.

“Where are you going?” Jenner and Paige hurried to catch up to me.

“To see Major. You're right. I need to put a stop to this once and for all.”

“Telling Mrs. Bradford didn't do anything. What makes you think telling your stepdad will help?” asked Paige.

“He works in military defense,” I said. “If anyone knows how to take down the enemy, he does.”

To say Major was thrilled to see me would have been less of a slight exaggeration and more of a total lie. The minute I walked into the lobby of the defense building, he frowned.

“I'm confused. You don't appear to be missing any limbs
or coughing up blood, but you're still out of school.” He leaned away and took in my outfit. “And what happened to the clothes you were wearing this morning?”

I patted my backpack. “They're in here. And I'm out of school because of a project I'm working on.” I recited the speech I'd been practicing the entire bus ride. “My teacher gave us time for independent study, so I'm using mine to get help from you.”

Major raised one eyebrow. “I'm sure she meant for you to study on campus, Delilah.”

I smiled up at him and batted my eyelashes. “But you're better than any textbook. You're like a walking library.”

Major narrowed his eyes, then steered me toward the receptionist's window. “Could we get a visitor's badge for Delilah James?” To me, he said, “Don't think you've flattered me into agreement. I plan to use your words against you in the future.”

I nodded and clipped on the badge. “Just like any other parent.”

The receptionist buzzed us back into the secure area of the building, and Major pointed to his office, a large room that looked more like a storage unit. Shelves of assorted junk lined every wall, and a desk in the far corner struggled to keep the chaos in order.

“Don't ever let your room get like this,” said Major.

“What
is
all this stuff?” I asked, picking up a plastic package with the word “Meal” on it.

“Some of them are prototypes for devices. Others are random items left behind by the captain who had this office before me.” Major took the package from me. “This is an MRE, Meal Ready-to-Eat. Be lucky I don't serve these to you at home.”

He returned it to the shelf. “But let's get back to your project. What sort of information are you looking for?”

“My project's on warfare, so I just need to know how to end a war.” I pulled my spiral notepad and a pen out of my backpack and waited for his answer.

“How to …” Major laughed so loud, the pen jumped from my fingers and clattered to the floor. “Delilah, there's no simple answer to a question like that.”

“But wars always end at some point.” I stooped to pick up my pen. “How?”

Major shook his head. “If you want the simple solution, which there
never
is,” he repeated, “wars end in three ways.” He counted them off on his fingers. “You win, you lose, or you come to a truce.”

I frowned. No amount of strapless dresses or froufrou fashion would convince Ava to just shake hands and leave it all behind us, and I would
never
admit defeat to her. “Okay. Um … how do you win a war, then?”

He smiled and walked toward a dry erase board covered with notes and dates. “
That
is even more difficult than ending a war.” He erased the top half of the notes. “But you start with the basics. Number one being deception.” He jotted on the board. “You trick the enemy into thinking your actions serve a different purpose than they actually do.”

“Serve … different purpose … than … actual.” I wrote down what he said and then looked up, perplexed. “Huh?”

“For example …” He tapped his pen against his chin. “Say a man on the boardwalk comes up to you and starts juggling. While you're watching him, his partner steals your purse. You thought the juggler was there to entertain you, but he was really there to distract you from the robbery.”

“Ohhh.”

Major returned to the board. “The second winning strategy is to attack your enemy's weakest point. Hit them close to home.”

That needed no explanation. I knew Ava's weakest point.

“You can also find someone else, an ally, to fight your battle for you.”

I shook my head. “I want to do this alone.”

Major stopped writing and faced me. “What?”

My eyes widened. “I mean … if I … was in a war. I'd want to fight my own battle. What else do you have?”

He regarded me for a moment more, then turned back to the board. “Number four, strike when morale is low.” He cleared his throat. “In other words, kick them when they're down.”

“Gotcha.”

“And finally, we come to the element of surprise, which can completely stun an enemy and leave him open for attack.” He underlined the last point and put down the marker. “Any questions?”

I put down my pen as well and thought for a moment. While Major had been talking, I'd been thinking about how I could incorporate his rules into an attack on Ava. I'd need a few supplies, but unfortunately, I was low on funds. “Can I have an advance on my allowance?”

Major smirked. “Any questions about what I've written on the board?”

“Oh. No, I think this is a good start.” I gave him a hopeful smile. “But I'd still like some money … for school supplies.”

“I don't suppose I can deny those.” He reached for his wallet. “What are you planning to buy exactly?”

“Just some highlighters, spiral notepads, pens. About twenty dollars' worth of stuff.”

Major counted out the money and handed it over. “Before you go, I want you to take some books home.” He crossed
the room and browsed a shelf crammed full of hardbacks. “Have you ever heard of
The Art of War
?” He disappeared behind the shelf and kept searching.

“No,” I said, trying to keep the dismay out of my voice. My fake project was suddenly leading to a lot of real work, and somehow I had a feeling that
The Art of War
was more of a sleep aid than a good read.

While I waited for Major to emerge with some twenty-pound backbreaker, I leaned against one of the shelves. Something smacked the floor by my feet, and I jumped, looking down to see the MRE package.

“Hey, Major? Can I open this MRE thing?”

“Help yourself!” he called.

I picked it up and ripped into the bag, astounded by all the contents: ravioli, cookies, crackers, and cheese spread—it even came with a tiny bottle of hot sauce. The only thing missing was a toothbrush and toothpaste to clean up afterward. Though I supposed toothpaste would just make a sticky mess.

I dropped the crackers and let out a gasp, struck full-force by my own brilliance.

Toothpaste
would
be a sticky mess. A sticky, embarrassing, almost-impossible-to-wash-off mess. The grand finale to my master plan.

I put all the MRE items back into the bag and joined
Major. “I'm sure what you told me should be enough. I don't really need any books.”

“Don't be silly.” He loaded my arms with books until I resembled a teen hunchback. “You'll need a reliable source for your information, and
that
comes from
these
.” He dusted his hands off and placed them on his hips. “Now, is there anything else?”

“Not unless you have a wheelbarrow,” I grunted. The top book shifted and I maneuvered the stack to keep it from falling, almost tripping over my own feet.