through till I got a good close-up of Tommy, and then I handed the phone to her.
She stared at him for quite a while, her face going from teasingly positive to almost shocked. For a minute I wondered if her digestive system was kicking up again. “He’s very handsome,” she said. “It’s Tommy, right?”
Now it was my turn to be shocked. “Yes. Do you know him?”
“Never met him,” she said. And as much as I pressed, and later even sent Louanne to press, she would say no more.
Chapter 47
Friday, no-uniform day. To distract myself from my biggest worry—how to angle the article to completely engage a bunch of my classmates with summer fever—I spent an extra hour planning what to wear.
I had a white hoodie that I loved—Hollister Malibu with red and black lettering—and I hadn’t worn my black and gray checked Vans for a while. But what jeans? Sighing, I took out my second-best pair and slipped them on. Not for the first time since the Great Laundry Disaster, I mourned the loss of my best jeans.
On the way to school, I started thinking about the article again. I just saw no way out of it, and I started getting mad. Why should my entire career ride on one article at the end of the year? Ridiculous.
Just before I got to Wexburg Academy, I received a text. It was from Supriya.
Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Philippians 4:6
Lord, thank You for helping me with everything so far. I really want to write this article—and to have a permanent spot on the newspaper staff next year, which I’d really love. Thanks again.
Just before I walked into the building, I added, And I’d like Tommy to ask me to go out with him. If that’s not too much to ask.
The first three periods went by quickly. I’d been planning to sit at the newspaper table that day to pick Melissa’s brain about angle ideas—after all, I had only three or four days to get the whole thing written—but she wasn’t there. Hazelle told me that both Melissa and Jack were at some meeting for sixth formers. And then—a surprise.
“Can I talk with you in the courtyard?” Hazelle asked.
I nodded and we stepped outside together.
“Savvy . . . well, maybe you were right,” she began. “The Asking for Trouble column is very important to the paper. And if I want to do what’s right for the paper, I guess we’d better keep it. So if you still want to write it, you can.”
I felt dizzy. I was keeping the column! “I’d like to keep it. Thank you, Hazelle.”
Hazelle looked wrung out. I suspected she was facing a few testing moments of her own. “And about the other article—the one Jack promised you. You’re right about journalistic integrity. So you can do one article.”
“On what topic?” I asked, hardly daring to hope.
“Whatever you want,” Hazelle said. “If the article is a success—if it creates buzz, causes an effect, brings in letters to the editor—I’ll let you write regularly next school term. You can have articles under your own name and with your own byline. And if it isn’t a success, then I won’t. But you’ll still have the advice column. Agreed?”
She’d said it was all about the paper, nothing personal, and she was keeping it that way. “Deal,” I said, wondering how an article about a ministry was going to generate buzz that would be heard at the end of the school term, when all anyone wanted to do was finish up their work and get on with holidays.
But fair was fair. The challenge was on.
I headed back into the lunchroom and slid in alongside Penny, which was always fun, except that she was sitting in the middle that day. Which meant we were right across from Ashley, who was holding court and complaining about something while everyone mewed sympathetically. This time, though, I could relate.
“I still haven’t found any jeans I like,” she said. “If they fit in the waist, they don’t fit in the leg
She stared at him for quite a while, her face going from teasingly positive to almost shocked. For a minute I wondered if her digestive system was kicking up again. “He’s very handsome,” she said. “It’s Tommy, right?”
Now it was my turn to be shocked. “Yes. Do you know him?”
“Never met him,” she said. And as much as I pressed, and later even sent Louanne to press, she would say no more.
Chapter 47
Friday, no-uniform day. To distract myself from my biggest worry—how to angle the article to completely engage a bunch of my classmates with summer fever—I spent an extra hour planning what to wear.
I had a white hoodie that I loved—Hollister Malibu with red and black lettering—and I hadn’t worn my black and gray checked Vans for a while. But what jeans? Sighing, I took out my second-best pair and slipped them on. Not for the first time since the Great Laundry Disaster, I mourned the loss of my best jeans.
On the way to school, I started thinking about the article again. I just saw no way out of it, and I started getting mad. Why should my entire career ride on one article at the end of the year? Ridiculous.
Just before I got to Wexburg Academy, I received a text. It was from Supriya.
Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Philippians 4:6
Lord, thank You for helping me with everything so far. I really want to write this article—and to have a permanent spot on the newspaper staff next year, which I’d really love. Thanks again.
Just before I walked into the building, I added, And I’d like Tommy to ask me to go out with him. If that’s not too much to ask.
The first three periods went by quickly. I’d been planning to sit at the newspaper table that day to pick Melissa’s brain about angle ideas—after all, I had only three or four days to get the whole thing written—but she wasn’t there. Hazelle told me that both Melissa and Jack were at some meeting for sixth formers. And then—a surprise.
“Can I talk with you in the courtyard?” Hazelle asked.
I nodded and we stepped outside together.
“Savvy . . . well, maybe you were right,” she began. “The Asking for Trouble column is very important to the paper. And if I want to do what’s right for the paper, I guess we’d better keep it. So if you still want to write it, you can.”
I felt dizzy. I was keeping the column! “I’d like to keep it. Thank you, Hazelle.”
Hazelle looked wrung out. I suspected she was facing a few testing moments of her own. “And about the other article—the one Jack promised you. You’re right about journalistic integrity. So you can do one article.”
“On what topic?” I asked, hardly daring to hope.
“Whatever you want,” Hazelle said. “If the article is a success—if it creates buzz, causes an effect, brings in letters to the editor—I’ll let you write regularly next school term. You can have articles under your own name and with your own byline. And if it isn’t a success, then I won’t. But you’ll still have the advice column. Agreed?”
She’d said it was all about the paper, nothing personal, and she was keeping it that way. “Deal,” I said, wondering how an article about a ministry was going to generate buzz that would be heard at the end of the school term, when all anyone wanted to do was finish up their work and get on with holidays.
But fair was fair. The challenge was on.
I headed back into the lunchroom and slid in alongside Penny, which was always fun, except that she was sitting in the middle that day. Which meant we were right across from Ashley, who was holding court and complaining about something while everyone mewed sympathetically. This time, though, I could relate.
“I still haven’t found any jeans I like,” she said. “If they fit in the waist, they don’t fit in the leg
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