Old Story, New Twist Read online

“Yes. Cintra was really nice, but Jimmy was amazing!” I said enthusiastically. I looked to Jeff to include him in the conversation, and that was when I saw him giving me a funny look. Duh! I practically smacked my hand to my head. I had some quick thinking to do.

  “I mean, you know, he’s an actor, so he’s very charming . . . ” Not good! Not good! Martone, correct course! I yelled at myself. “And he’s kind of . . . ” I looked at Jeff, and he was sitting with his arms folded, smirking at me knowingly.

  “What?” I said.

  “Nothing,” he said. Smirk, smirk.

  I decided to un-include him from the conversation, so I turned my back on him. Who cares what Jeff Perry thinks, anyway?

  “He’s almost a professional, you know.”

  Mr. Trigg nodded. “It’s nice when someone’s willing to open up. Of course, this is a soft piece, so you don’t need to do much digging. Just know for the future that you’ll need to be on guard with subjects who seem charming and willing. You might not be getting all of the information you need. That’s when you need to dig deep and ask the tough questions, also do background work to make sure what they’re telling you is true.”

  I nodded, avoiding looking at Jeff. Maybe he’d gotten bored.

  But no.

  “Want to see some cute pictures of Jimmy-pooh?” he said.

  “Oh, shush!” I scolded. Ever so briefly, I weighed the idea of declaring my love for Michael Lawrence to Jeff and Mr. Trigg. But I quickly decided that would be a bad idea. Also, I didn’t want such a sacred and important piece of information to be part of a conversation with Mr. Trigg, in the newspaper office, when we were talking about Jimmy Becker!

  “Here he is!” teased Jeff.

  I turned on my heel. “I do not like him! Anyway, I have to go.”

  Mr. Trigg was smiling in amusement. “Never a good idea to fall in love with your subject, Ms. Martone! Hard to be objective!”

  “I told you, I don’t like him!” I shouted. Then I stormed, red-faced and indignant, out of the office.

  Futsal practice would have been much, much better after all.

  Chapter 7

  JOURNALIST FIRES BEST FRIEND, SEEKS NEW TALENT

  I practically ran to the gym, just to get away from that stupid scene in the newspaper office. What a wasted trip: I hadn’t checked for any new Know-It-All letters, I hadn’t seen Michael, and I’d been falsely accused of having a crush on Jimmy Becker by a teacher and by Michael’s best friend! Falsely Accused Journalist Must Clear Own Name!

  Ugh!

  Fuming, I slammed my messenger bag onto the bleachers and tried to take deep breaths to stop my heart from pounding.

  Hailey was having a great time, running sprints, doing agility drills, laughing with her coach and her teammates. I guess this is what team membership provides: structure, health and fitness, a common goal, friendships. It did seem appealing.

  After I calmed down a little, I thought about my Michael problem. I needed to see him more now that we weren’t writing together, and I needed to let him know I liked him. Or, if not that I liked him, at least that I didn’t like Jimmy. Or something!

  What could I do?

  I opened my notebook to brainstorm a little. Lists relax me. (Michael sometimes calls me “Listy” as a nickname. Or he used to, back when we were working together.) Here’s what I came up with as ways to interact with ML:

  1. Ask for his help/opinion on my article

  2. Ask for help in training for tryouts

  3. Confess that I am you-know-who for the paper

  4. Ask for baking lessons

  Number one didn’t appeal to me because I didn’t actually need his help.

  Number two was a no-go. It’s not like Michael is a gymnast anyway, and it would be complicated to mix him up in that, especially since I am already overstaffed in that department.

  Number three would make me break a promise to Mr. Trigg. And while I might be willing to do that in the name of love, it would haunt me. And if it ever got out, I would definitely not make editor in chief next year.

  Number four, though . . . that had potential.

  Michael Lawrence makes the most delicious, melt-in-your-mouth cinnamon buns you’ve ever eaten. I’ve had them a couple of times, and they are insanely good. The downside of learning how to make them would be that he might not make them for me anymore, but the lesson time I’d spend with him would certainly offset that. Then, one day, when we’re married, I’d announce that I quit baking and that he’s in charge of it for good.

  I chewed on my pen and tried to think of any other possibilities, short of asking Michael out. Soon Hailey’s practice was over, and it was time for my training session.

  “Yo,” said Hailey, all flushed and happy.

  “Yo,” I said, all cranky.

  “Yo?” Hailey was asking me what was wrong.

  “Yo-yo,” I said.

  “What the heck? Speak English!” she said finally.

  “Mr. Trigg and Jeff Perry think I like Jimmy Becker, and they’re going to tell Michael!” I wailed.

  “What?” Hailey was superconfused now, and I wasn’t even speaking Yo.

  I explained what had happened, and she shook her head slowly from side to side as we entered the gymnastics room and casually waved at Coach Lunetta.

  “So now what?” she asked.

  “I was thinking I need to reach out to him and show some interest,” I offered.

  “Bingo!” said Hailey, smacking her fist into her palm. “But how?” Her brow wrinkled in thought.

  “Well, I’ve been working on that, too,” I said. “I think I should ask him for a baking lesson—how to make those cinnamon buns.”

  “Genius!” declared Hailey. “But wait. That won’t work! You can’t be eating any of those right now while you’re training. We’ll need to think of something else.”

  “Hailey, I would eat fast food every day if it meant I might make headway with Michael Lawrence.”

  Hailey stared at me. “Really?” I nodded and she shook her head. “Then you’re not serious about becoming an athlete. I should have known.”

  “First of all, you are the junk-food kid of all time,” I said. “I have seen what you eat for lunch every day. And second of all, I just said I was considering this plan, not that I’m going to do it. And as for the cinnamon buns, it’s not like I have to eat them. Anyway, one batch of cinnamon buns never ruined an athlete’s career.”

  “Humph,” said Hailey. “Just know that you are on parole as my trainee.”

  “Oh, whatever!”

  During practice, I was distracted. Even as I did my routine, I kept craning my neck to see if I could spy Michael through the doorway, in the other gym. It was a little dangerous. Finally, Hailey said, “Do I have to shut this door to get you to focus?”

  “No, no, sorry. I’m focused,” I said. And I did try harder for a little while.

  But as I was spinning around on the bars, I spied someone new out of the corner of my eye, standing in the doorway. I was moving so fast, I couldn’t stop to see who it was, but I hoped it was Michael, of course.

  I worked my hardest on the rest of the routine, did a really daring dismount, and stuck the finish like I was at the Olympic trials. I was so proud. Only when I heard clapping did I turn around to the doorway, a look of fake surprise on my face, with a smile.

  Only it wasn’t Michael.

  It was Jenna Palmer.

  “Great job, Sam!” she called.

  “Hey, Jenna!” I hid my disappointment and crossed the room for a quick chat.

  Hailey was staring at Jenna like she had three heads, probably jealous and territorial.

  “Jenna, this is my friend Hailey Jones. Hailey, Jenna Palmer.”

  “Best friend,” corrected Hailey.

  Sighing, I rolled my eyes. Journalist Publicly Announces “Best” Friend.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Jenna. She was much nicer and more polite than Hailey.

  “Are you here to pra
ctice for tryouts?” I asked. Might as well cut to the chase.

  “Me? Oh no.” Jenna blushed. “I’m just here to find out when they are. I thought I might come watch.” She blushed even harder.

  “You should try out!” I said, hoping to encourage her. Darn, I wish that Know-It-All letter could come out sooner. There just wouldn’t be any time between the next issue of the paper and the start of tryouts.

  “No, no,” said Jenna, backing away with her palms in the air, as if trying to ward me off.

  Just then Kristen Durkin came in with her little gym bag. She said a friendly hello to everyone and went to stretch on the exercise mat.

  “She’s on the team,” I whispered, gesturing to Kristen. “And she’s really nice. Come on! It’ll be fun!”

  “Really, I’m just an enthusiastic fan, not a participant. I promise. Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later! Nice to meet you!” she said to Hailey.

  “Yeah,” said Hailey grumpily.

  After Jenna was out of earshot, I lit into Hailey. “What is wrong with you? Why were you so rude to her?”

  “I wasn’t rude! I just don’t have the same desire that you have to go around inviting everyone to everything. If she tries out, it’s one more person you are competing against for a spot on the team.”

  I folded my arms and narrowed my eyes at Hailey. “I hardly think asking one person to try out is a big deal.”

  “I’m just glad you didn’t offer me to train her,” said Hailey. “I thought that was coming next.”

  I smacked my forehead with my hand. “I should have thought of that! Of course! How can she train without a trainer?”

  Hailey looked at Kristen across the room. “She is,” said Hailey.

  I followed her gaze. “Kristen? She’s already on the team.”

  Hailey shook her head mildly. “I’m not so sure about that. I don’t remember seeing her last year at any meets.”

  “Look, we’re not talking about Kristen. I just think . . . see, Jenna is new . . . ” How was I going to explain all this to Hailey without admitting that I’m Dear Know-It-All and telling Hailey all about Jenna’s letter? “And, anyway, maybe it’s hard for her since she doesn’t know that many people here, and maybe she doesn’t have the courage. She just needs a friend to give her a boost. Like you’re doing for me! Only she doesn’t have anyone.” I shrugged and held my hands out at my sides, palms up.

  Hailey looked away. “So I’m a mean person just because I don’t know who she is and I don’t want her to train with us?”

  I smiled. “Kind of!”

  “Oh, whatever. Go get on that beam,” ordered Hailey.

  “Aye aye, Captain.” I saluted and crossed over to the beam.

  Knowing how good Kristen was on beam made me a little nervous to try it with her right there. I took a deep breath, shook out my arms and legs, closed my eyes to visualize a perfect routine (Hailey had read that advice on some website), and then I began. I felt badly that I had kind of chased Jenna off. At least I should have suggested she stay and watch. The thought distracted me, and I kept falling off the beam. I made a mental note to make it up to her by inviting her to have lunch with me and Hailey. That made me feel a little better. I glanced over at one point and saw Hailey and Kristen chatting. Phew. Seeing that Hailey was being nice to someone (and more importantly, that they weren’t staring at me), I was able to relax a little.

  After trying the beam for a while, I wanted to do something else. Something I was good at. In other words, the bars. But now Kristen was on them. I decided to take a break and went to check in with Hailey again.

  Hailey tried to give me some advice on what I’d been doing wrong, but I knew it was Kristen whose advice I really needed. Or even Allie’s, though I hated to admit it. I decided I’d better fill Hailey in.

  “So Allie’s feelings were supposedly hurt since I didn’t ask her to train me,” I said in an annoyed voice.

  Hailey looked at me wide-eyed. “Is she mad at me?”

  “No, don’t worry. But my mom thinks I need to butter her up and ask for her help.”

  “Why don’t you invite her to come train with us?” Hailey asked hopefully.

  “Oh, so now you’re Miss Social, inviting people around.”

  Hailey scoffed. “Whatever. She was only the star of the team for three years. You’d be a fool not to use that resource. I thought of it before, but I figured she’d be too busy.”

  “I know.” I nodded. She was right. I’d work up to it tonight.

  Kristen was struggling on the bars, and I could see what she was doing wrong. She wasn’t getting up enough speed before she tried her dismount. She repeated the exercise about three times. Finally, I had to say something.

  I went over to the bars. “Hey, Kristen, please don’t think I’m being pushy, because . . . obviously, you’re amazing at gymnastics.”

  Kristen blushed, which I hadn’t expected, and shrugged. “I can’t figure this out. I stink at bars!” she said.

  “Well, from across the room, what I’m seeing is that you’re not getting up enough speed to nail that dismount. I think you should either do one more spin before you try it or maybe just work on a different dismount that doesn’t need so much momentum going into it, you know?”

  Kristen looked like a lightbulb had gone on over her head. “Oh! Great idea! Do you mind watching while I try again?”

  “Sure,” I said, and I folded my arms and stood to watch. And, of course, she did the extra spin and nailed the dismount. Actually, she had a little too much speed going into it, so she couldn’t stick the finish, but she basically got the routine right.

  “Thanks!” she said.

  I was happy my advice had worked. “No problem. Listen, do you have any advice for me on beam?”

  “Sure!” she said, and she walked me over and gave me a few really great pointers. We split up and practiced a bit more, then I was ready to pack it in. I’d really made some progress today, and I was psyched. Plus, my endorphins were flying from all the exercise.

  But then I reached Hailey by the door, and her endorphins had clearly worn off.

  “I guess you don’t need me anymore, now that you have that hotshot training partner. I was just coming to tell you I was leaving,” she said grumpily.

  “Oh, Hails, come on. I was just getting some pointers. You don’t need to be mad. It was really helpful. And when we come back this weekend—with Allie!—I’ll know what to work on.”

  “Right. This weekend. I was going to tell you, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or anything, since things aren’t going so well for you with Michael. But Danny Burke invited me to the movies on Saturday afternoon. So I can’t come that day.”

  “What? You’re kidding!” Millions of different emotions swarmed inside me. Shock at the news, first of all; then surprise and some disappointment that Hailey hadn’t told me immediately; anger that she had withheld info from me, especially because she did it out of pity; and, of course, jealousy, because I’d loved Michael for so long and he’d never asked me out. But I also felt a little bit of disgust. Danny Burke! I mean, come on! Plus, I felt ditched. “Wow,” I said calmly. “That’s great. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me sooner.”

  Hailey looked down at her fingernails and shrugged. “I can tell you don’t like him,” she said.

  Uh-oh. Now I’d have to lie. “Well, I don’t like him like him, of course. But for you . . . he’s fine. I mean, he’s great!” I crossed my toes inside my shoes as I lied to my best friend.

  Hailey looked at me, unconvinced.

  “I’m just . . . a little bummed that I’ll have to train without you this weekend. That’s all.”

  “Why don’t you ask your new BFF over there? I’m sure she’d be eager to help.”

  I followed Hailey’s gaze to Kristen, who was stretching. “She’s already on the team. I’m sure she has better things to do than train me,” I said.

  “Actually, things aren’t always what they seem. She
’s not on the team,” said Hailey.

  “What? No way! I was sure of it. How do you know?” I said, surprised.

  “I asked,” said Hailey. And she left.

  Chapter 8

  BAD CHOICES LEAVE REPORTER LONELY, LOVELESS, AND LUCKLESS

  I couldn’t let Hailey leave in a snit like that. I grabbed my stuff, yelled a hasty good-bye to Kristen and Coach Lunetta, and chased Hailey out of the gymnastics room.

  Halfway through the basketball gym, I saw Michael. He was waiting on the sidelines to sub in to a scrimmage. Up ahead, Hailey was nearly out the door. What to do?

  I wished I could magically clone myself. One of me would stay back in the gymnastics room with Kristen and find out why someone as good as her wasn’t on the gymnastics team yet. My reporter’s instinct just found that really odd. Then another me would chase Hailey down and make up. And a third me would go chat up Michael and let him know I was interested in him.

  I took a deep breath. Well, the Kristen thing could wait, obviously. And between Michael and Hailey . . .

  Michael looked up at me, and I smiled and raised my hand in a half wave. But he looked away, back at the game in front of him.

  OMG! Was he mad at me? Had Jeff Perry gotten to him with the news (not!) that I liked Jimmy Becker? Or maybe he was just engrossed in the game. What should I do?

  My feet continued to propel me forward. I guess they knew better than I did that I shouldn’t let Hailey get away.

  “Hey, Michael,” I whispered as I passed behind him. But he didn’t turn around. Had he not heard me?

  Impulsively, I said it again, but louder.

  This time he turned and kind of waved, but without a smile or anything. It was almost worse than him not reacting. I was mortified. I picked up my pace and hurried out the door, only to find Hailey gone.

  I felt like the world’s biggest loser. Bad Choices Leave Reporter Lonely, Loveless, and Luckless.

  That was me.

  That night I sat on the floor on a little sheepskin rug in Allie’s room and peppered her with questions about the balance beam until she finally sighed and said, “Look, do I have to come down there and show you myself?”