Vanessa's Fashion Face-Off by Jo Whittemore Page A

week?”
    A guy leaning against a cabinet said, “Front page is covering the advice-offs.”
    And we were back on that ride.
    â€œWe should have the write-ups done by Thursday morning, after Heather and Vanessa have competed and the results for both advice-offs are in,” he continued.
    Mrs. H gave him a thumbs-up. “And where are we with photos for the front page?”
    Gil glanced up from where he was drawing on one of his sneakers. “I have the proofs from today right here.” He leaned over and patted his backpack.
    â€œWell, let’s see them,” said Stefan, extending a hand. “How do they look?”
    I knew he really meant How do I look?
    Stefan opened the envelope and flipped through the photos. From where I sat, they looked fine, but Stefan said, “What lens did you use? They’re so far away. You can barely see my . . . their faces.”
    Gil shrugged. “I was trying to capture thewhole scene, not just one person,” he said pointedly.
    Mrs. H leaned over Stefan’s shoulder. “I think these pictures are fine, Gil. Although a few close-ups wouldn’t hurt tomorrow.”
    Gil nodded and went back to drawing on his shoe.
    â€œWhat else is on the front page?” asked Mary Patrick.
    â€œThe tour of the Ecklesby Estate,” said an eighth-grade girl. “It’s one of the oldest houses in the city, and it’s about to be torn down, so the eighth graders are going there tomorrow on a field trip.”
    Mrs. H nodded. “Fascinating! Let’s make sure we get some good photos, Stefan.”
    He snorted. “Of an old house? You got it.”
    Mary Patrick scribbled on the board. “Sports?”
    â€œI’m doing a piece on the fund raiser to replace the football team’s helmets,” said Stefan.
    â€œAnd I’m covering the new mascot,” said Tim.
    Mrs. H and Mary Patrick continued through the pages of the paper, and then we broke into our small groups. Brooke had already grabbed the advice requests from the box and spread them on the table for us to choose.
    â€œHmmm,” said Tim. “The hilarious part of me wants to answer the guy who challenged me to a rap battle. . . .”
    Heather, Brooke, and I laughed.
    â€œWhile the newly compassionate me wants to help this girl pick a present for her boyfriend,” he finished.
    â€œRap battle!” cried Brooke, looking to me and Heather. “Rap battle!”
    We took up the chant. “Rap battle! Rap battle!”
    Tim grinned. “I thought you wanted me tocare more about other people’s problems.”
    â€œYou can answer her question on the website,” Brooke reminded him.
    â€œRap battle! Rap battle!” Heather and I kept chanting.
    â€œFair enough. Mix Master Tim in the house!” he said, striking a pose.
    â€œOkay,” said Brooke, chuckling. “Now help me find one.”
    The four of us went back to sorting through the requests.
    â€œWow,” I said as the piles in front of Brooke and Tim grew. “A lot of these are about fitness or asking for guy advice.”
    â€œIt’s not surprising,” said a voice from behind us. Mary Patrick strolled by. “It’s called increased awareness. Students saw Brooke and Tim this morning, and now their interest is piqued.” She nodded to me and Heather. “I expect the two of you will have your share ofextra questions after tomorrow’s advice-off.”
    Heather’s eyes shone. “Oh, I hope so! Imagine all the people we could help!”
    Ever the kind heart.
    Tim lifted his pile of questions and let them flutter onto the table. “Imagine if these were hundred-dollar bills. We should really charge for our answers.”
    Ever the schemer.
    Brooke snorted. “If the advice of four twelve-year-olds was that valuable, I’m pretty sure we’d be so famous, we wouldn’t go to regular school.”
    Ever the realist.
    â€œGive