Stop the Presses! (11 page)

“You hate it,” Allie said. “I'm really sorry.”

I grabbed Allie and hugged her so tightly it hurt. I couldn't stop crying, but I didn't want to.

“It's perfect,” I whispered.

I lifted my head and saw that Allie was smiling, but Mom was crying too.

“I thought it would be,” Allie said. “I love you, Sam. Even though we argue, even though we fight, ever though we're probably as different as two sisters can be—I love you, okay? Always remember that. And I know that you've been going through some tough stuff lately, so I just wanted to make you happy.”

I smiled at her, and this time I didn't have to force the edges of my mouth up. It was a real smile.

“I love it,” I said. “And I love you, too. You're amazing.”

“Group hug,” Mom said, putting her arms around us.

The three of us stood there laughing and hugging and crying.

“It's not finished yet,” Allie said. “We need to pick up some new furniture and accessorize and stuff, but I had this idea when I was going through your box and I wanted to surprise you.”

“I'm surprised.” I laughed. “But if you don't mind, there's something I need to do.”

“Are you going to call Hailey?” Allie asked. “Because I don't want to tell you what to do, but I do think you should.”

“No, I'm not,” I answered. “Not now, anyway.”

Mom and Allie went downstairs and I sat in the middle of my room for a minute, just to take it all in. I couldn't wait to go to sleep that night, just so I could wake up and see it all again.

I turned on my computer and reopened the Dear Know-It-All document. I knew my first answer needed a revision.

Dear Tight Fit,

I don't think you have to move on, but you can move forward. If you're happy wearing the sweater, then I say don't worry about what anyone thinks. But if you outgrow it, you could
always turn the sweater into something else, like a big bag you can carry your stuff in, or mittens and a hat, or a throw pillow for your bed. This way you can keep it close to you all the time, just in a different way.

—Dear Know-It-All

On Monday morning, I got to school early so I could stop by Mr. Trigg's office and apologize for leaving the game early. I handed in the Dear Know-It-All column and told him I had e-mailed my article draft to Michael and was waiting for his revision. I hadn't heard a peep from him since the game.

I almost tripped over him in the hallway, though, but he ignored me and kept going. I could tell he was really upset, probably because he thought I was cheering for West Hills—and Danny Stratham. What was that advice you gave me about sharing your feelings, Michael Lawrence? I figured he needed a reminder, so I waited by his locker at the end of the school day.

He almost turned around and walked the other
way after he saw me standing there, but then I could tell he realized how dumb that would look. I mean, it was
his
locker.

“Excuse me, Sam,” Michael said as he plopped his backpack on the floor.

“I know you're upset,” I said. “I just wanted to explain.”

“Who said I'm upset?” Michael asked.

“No one said it, although you should,” I replied.

“Why should I?” questioned Michael.

“Because you're not following your own advice,” I informed him. “You told me that I should just say how I'm feeling. But you're not. So I'm going to tell you what happened, and you're going to listen. And then if you're still upset, fine.”

I explained why Mr. Trigg and I were sitting on the West Hills side of the bleachers and that I didn't know why Danny acted like that to me, but probably a big factor was that he knew it bothered Michael, and that I left because I had spilled a drink all over myself and was embarrassed and I was upset that Hailey had laughed at me, not because of any other reason. I could see Michael
listening closely, and I could tell he was feeling better about the whole situation.

“Well, thanks for explaining about the bleachers, because that did really upset me,” Michael admitted. “I can see Mr. Trigg's point, but next time you come to my game, you better be a fan and not a reporter.”

“I promise,” I replied.

“And, Sam, honestly, if you like Danny Stratham, I understand,” he said. “A lot of girls do. He's a pretty popular guy.”

“I think I told you this before, but I guess I need to repeat it,” I answered. “I do like Danny Stratham. He's funny and he's easy to talk to. But he can also be kind of a jerk. He's not my friend. You are. And I don't feel the same way about him as I do about you at all.”

Then I stopped. I figured that was a kind of subtle way to let Michael know that even though I considered him a friend, the way I felt about him was a little deeper than that, without having to embarrass myself and say it outright. Or at least I hoped it was subtle.

“You didn't have to tell me that,” Michael said. “But it does make me feel better.”

He reached over and rumpled my hair again, and I knew that things were going to be back to normal for the best reporting duo Cherry Valley had ever seen.
One down, one to go
, I thought. Unfortunately, the one that was left was the really tough one.

On Tuesday, Michael and I met after school to work on the final version of our Green Team article. He had a done a really good job revising it, and I could see it was a lot more balanced than my first draft had been. We proofread it one last time.

“I guess it's all set for Trigg,” I said.

“Maybe not,” Michael replied. “I had an idea.”

Michael explained that he thought we should present our research
at the next student government meeting and propose a compromise. Then we'd have a real ending to our story. It was a good plan, even if it meant facing Hailey.

We sat in the front row of the auditorium at Wednesday's student government meeting. Mr. Trigg and the rest of the
Voice
staff joined us. Michael had already talked to Anthony about speaking, and Anthony called us up to the podium. We took turns presenting all our findings, summing up the information in our pro-versus-con chart.

“In conclusion,” I said, “we'd like to propose a compromise. We will publish a digital edition of the
Cherry Valley Voice
. We'd also like to continue to print a paper edition, but we'll print fewer copies, so that only the students who really want a printed copy will get one. We'll also look into printing on recycled paper. Even though it costs a little more money, we can publicize the fact that we are ‘going green,' and maybe other newspapers will take notice. Mr. Trigg will help us with that.”

Michael and I went back to our seats, and Anthony returned to the podium.

“I think that Michael Lawrence and Samantha Martone have come up with an excellent compromise,” Anthony said. “My vote is in favor of it. Does anyone have any objections?”

I could see that Hailey was about to raise her hand, but she didn't. I wondered why.

“Since there are no objections, the GO GO subcommittee will now work to help the
Cherry Valley Voice
publish both a print and a digital edition and will help the staff find good sources for environmentally friendly printing options,” Anthony concluded.

Hailey immediately got up, came over to Michael and me, and held out her hand.

“Congratulations,” she said coldly. “I hope a pile of paper was worth destroying our friendship over.”

Then she rushed out of the auditorium.

I was stunned. It would have hurt less if she had punched me.

“Ouch,” Michael said.

“
I
destroyed our friendship?” I gasped. “What is she talking about? She's the one who came up with this whole GO GO idea.”

“You know, someone once gave me some very good advice,” Michael said.

“Let me guess. . . . I should tell her how I really feel.” I laughed.

“Great advice,” Michael noted. “Whoever came up with that should think about being a guidance counselor.”

I reached up and rumpled his hair the way he usually did to mine.

“Can you finish the article?” I called as I rushed down the aisle. “I'm going to be a little busy.”

I knew which way Hailey walked home, so I ran until I saw her up ahead.

“Hailey!” I yelled when I was close enough for her to hear me.

She didn't stop walking.

“Hailey!” I yelled again.

She still didn't stop.

I caught up to her and walked by her side, but she wouldn't even turn to look at me.

“Hailey,” I said. “I just wanted to explain how I've been feeling.”

“I think you already did that pretty clearly,” Hailey replied.

“Huh?” I said, confused. “When did I do that?”

“Guess what? You win,” Hailey said, trying to imitate my voice.

That's when it hit me. Hailey had gotten the e-mail that I'd written just to get my feelings off my chest, not to send her! I must have hit the send key instead of hide screen when Allie had barged into my room.

“I don't think you need to say anything more,” Hailey added. “You've said enough. And guess what? You did win. So just leave me alone.”

I really didn't know what to say to her then. I had a whole bunch of feelings inside of me, and I wanted to get them out, but I also didn't want to say anything without thinking about it first. Because obviously that strategy wasn't very effective. So I just went with the only thing I could think of at the moment.

“I'm sorry,” I said.

Then I turned around and headed home, alone again.

The rest of the week flew by. The newsroom was a flurry of activity as everyone was excited about
the new digital publishing plan. Mr. Trigg invited some computer designers from the local paper to come in to show us some tricks. We had launched a digital version of the
Voice
a while back, but it was really basic. The computer designers gave us some tips on how to make our newspaper look really professional and great on-screen.