Read All About It! by Rachel Wise Page A

are things going with the column?” Mr. Trigg
     lowered his voice to a whisper and looked over his shoulder as if someone else might be
     there.
    Now what?
    â€œWell, Mr. Trigg . . . I’ve been meaning to talk to you. The
     letters aren’t great. There aren’t really any that are jazzy enough for the first column. They’re all pretty dumb.” I
     gulped nervously as I lied.
    Mr. Trigg folded his arms and reached up to tap his chin awkwardly. It
     was his trademark mannerism. “What about . . . I know there was one good one I
     saw. Was it? . . . Let me think.” Tap, tap, tap.
    Please don’t let him say Hailey’s, I thought desperately.
     But of course . . .
    He thrust his finger in the air. “The crush! The crush on the best
     friend’s crush! That’s the ticket! It’s perfect.”
    Ugh!
    â€œBut what do I tell her?” I said, trying not to whine.
    â€œHow do you know it’s a her?” he asked, surprised.
    â€œI mean, or him?” I corrected myself
     quickly.
    â€œYou just tell him or her . . . all’s fair in love and
     war!”
    I didn’t like that answer. Not when it applied to Hailey. How
     could I write that?
    Just then Michael Lawrence walked in and our discussion was over.
    â€œWednesday,” said Mr. Trigg, pointing his finger at me.
     “Alrighty?”
    I nodded, miserable. “Wednesday,” I agreed. Deadline Panic Sets In for New Columnist.
    â€œWhat’s Wednesday?” asked Michael, taking a bite of an
     apple. I was hungry and I sure wasn’t about to stick around and let my stomach
     announce it.
    â€œOh, nothing, just brainstorming,” I said in what I hoped
     was a breezy fashion.
    â€œSpeaking of which, maybe we should go over our notes now and use
     tomorrow to try to get in and get another quote from Pfeiffer,” said Michael.
    This guy was killing me! Here I am starving and in a rush and of course I’d kill to hang out with him, but talk about bad
     timing!
    â€œUm . . . I was going to go grab some food inthe cafeteria right now,” I said.
    â€œI just ate, but I’m free,” said Michael. He grinned.
     “Let’s go feed you before your stomach starts yelling.”
    I was so embarrassed. “Yeah, I . . .” But I didn’t
     know how to answer him. I didn’t know how to answer anything these days.
    â€œHey, it’s okay!” he said. “I always carry
     snacks with me. I get hungry all the time too!”
    In the cafeteria Michael grabbed a table while I got my tray. It was
     hard to decide what to get. I didn’t want to look like a pig in front of Michael,
     or get food caught in my teeth or make a mess. Finally, I made my selections and headed
     over to him and sat down. I pulled a sheaf of papers out of my messenger bag and laid it
     on the table.
    â€œI transcribed my notes. Here’s what I have,” I said.
     “It looks like the theme is that everyone was caught off guard by the changes, the
     communication was poor in explaining it, but overall the kids and teachers are very
     happy with the new curriculum,” I explained. “I think that’s our
     thesis.”
    Michael was nodding. “I’d like to add in a big section that
     explains the changes, where weuse Pfeiffer’s quote about
     ‘We’d also like you to be able to tell a great story, because isn’t
     that what everything comes down to in life? Telling a great story?’”
    â€œWow. How do you remember just what he said?”
    Michael shrugged. But he was smiling kind of proudly.
    I was impressed but maybe kind of nervous. How did he know for sure that
     he’d gotten it word for word if he didn’t write it down? Misquoting people
     is dangerous.
    â€œI also think we should work in when he said at the PTA meeting
     ‘this is a work in