Digital Disaster! (3 page)

Michael looked at me and rolled his eyes. Trigger, as we liked to call
him, always started quoting Winston Churchill when he got excited, and nothing made Mr.
Trigg more excited than a good scoop. I thought about the quote, though, and it
definitely rang true.

“So I think we can count on the Martone/Lawrence duo to investigate
this with their usual gusto.”

Michael gave a thumbs-up and I nodded, hoping no one would see the color
that rushed to my cheeks hearing our names like that.

“But, Mr. Lawrence and Ms. Martone, please remember the wise words
of Churchill. This story is big and will get outside press attention, so I want to make
sure you guys are up for the task. We will need accurate, spot-on coverage here, which I
know you do well. You'll have to be extracareful to fact-check everything. No
hearsay. This may be one of the most important stories you work on this year.”

More nodding from me and Michael, and then I started to get a tight
feeling in my throat. I'd
thought
I was up for the task,
but now Mr. Trigg was scaring me with all his Winston Churchill energy. At least I
wasn't in it alone. I wondered if Michael was also feeling, as Mr. Trigg would
say, just a “tad” overwhelmed.

“The other item on the docket is that this issue will be our first
ever online edition. As you know, the entire office just received upgraded computers, so
I thought it was time for us to get with the twenty-first century. We will still have a
print run, but the entire paper will also be available online instantly the moment we
hit the publish button. Thanks to everyone on the IT team for making this change
possible.”

People started clapping and cheering, and I looked over at the group of
students from the IT club who I assumed had come to the meeting for this moment. My eyes
traveled over to Will Hutchins. He sat in the back of the group wearing the hood of his
sweatshirt pulled over his head, not smiling. Something was a little odd about him. He
saw me looking at him and I quickly looked away.

“So I think you have your work cut out for you, folks,” Mr.
Trigg said, and tugged on the lucky scarf he always wore to the meetings.
Newspaper Advisor Makes Understatement of the Year.
Just when
I thought things were calming down.

Chapter 3

Cheating Virus Takes Over Middle School

Hey Paste! We need 2 get together and discuss article.
Wednesday night my house?

That was the IM blinking on my screen when I finally got home. A wave of
excitement washed over me. I know Michael wouldn't have asked me if we
didn't have the article to do, but still, it was kind of awesome to be greeted
with that kind of message.

Sure, what time?
I replied, trying to play it
cool.

How about 7?

Good. Will there be cinnamon buns?
I asked.

We'll see how good your quotes
are . . .

I smiled. Michael made these great cinnamon buns and sometimes he made
them when we were working on a story. My mouth started to water just thinking of them.
Then I realized I needed to message Hailey. I hadn't even told her about the
broken zipper incident and now my work date with Michael on Wednesday night. Life might
have been moving a million miles an hour, but at least it wasn't boring!

But before I did that, I wanted to check out my Dear Know-It-All letter
stash for the week. I took them out of my pocket and read the first one.
Dear Know-It-All, I'm always losing stuff: my phone, my
homework, my favorite glow-in-the-dark rainbow key chain. How can I keep better
track of things
? My favorite glow-in-the-dark rainbow key chain? Was this
person serious? Next.

Dear Know-It-All,

I had a friend write one of my book reports for English. I hate my English
class, and anyway, I'm going to be a singer in a rock-and-roll band, so I
don't think speaking or writing perfect English is going to be important to my
life. I have another report coming up and I think I want my friend to help me out again.
What do you think?

Rock on,

Rock Star

I swallowed hard and put the letter down on my desk. What was going on
here?
Cheating Virus Takes Over Middle School.
First of all,
the idea of letting someone else write your words for you was appalling enough, and then
to take credit for it! It's one thing to wish you didn't have to write
something, but it's quite another to do what Rock Star had done. It was hard to
deny that writing skills were important, even for a rock star. What about writing songs?
What world was this person living in? I had so much to say to Rock Star that I felt like
I could spontaneously combust at any moment.

“Dinner!” my mom called, and my racing head stopped. I took a
deep breath and stashed the letters in my secret spot under the bed. I needed to take a
step back and think about Rock Star later.

I went into the kitchen and sat down. Mom had made spaghetti and a salad.
At that moment, I realized how hungry I was. I heaped up my plate, twirled a big
mouthful of spaghetti on my fork, and took a bite.

“So have you started studying for your math test again?” Allie
asked in a teasing voice with a smirk on her face.

I looked up at her, my mouth still full of spaghetti.

“What do you mean?” Mom asked before I could say anything.

“Apparently, some crazy computer nerd hacked into the math
department's test file and Sam's entire grade has to take their tests over
again.”

“Oh no. That's terrible!” Mom exclaimed.

“I have a notice about it in my backpack and, anyway,
nothing's been proven,” I said, glaring at Allie, still making my way
through my bite of spaghetti.

“Well, who else would have done it?” Allie gave her long blond
hair a defiant flip from one side to the other and looked at me questioningly.

“It could have been anyone. You can't make assumptions,”
I said, stabbing a cucumber and waving it around for emphasis. “But the file was
definitely hacked into, so that makes the test results invalid.” My shoulders
slumped as I said the word “invalid.”

“I'm sorry, Sam. That must feel really frustrating,” Mom
said. “You studied so hard.”

“Frustrating is one way to describe it.” I started to feel the
rage build up again. Rock Star popped into my head, not that I thought Rock Star was the
hacker, but Rock Star was also in that category—the cheater category. It was hard
for me to believe there were people out there who were willing to lie and cheat to get
what they wanted no matter who it affected.

“Well,” said Allie, “I kind of wish that would happen to
my chemistry test. I would have loved another few days to study.”

“No you don't. What a ridiculous thing to say!” I said,
suddenly raising my voice.

“Allie.” Mom held up her hand. “Sam is obviously upset
about this, and what happened is really awful on so many levels. It's nothing to
take lightly. Please try to be supportive.” Then she turned to me. “And,
Sam, I know you're upset about it, but there's no reason to yell. Just take
a step back. Allie's not who you're mad at.”

I leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath. Mom was right. I
wasn't mad at Allie, but she could be so annoying sometimes.

“I'm sorry,” I said to Allie, kind of meaning it.
“It's hard, though. I don't know who I'm supposed to be mad at.
The bright side is I'm doing a story for the paper on it.”

“With lover boy?”

“Allie,” Mom said sharply. “That's
enough.”

Allie's mouth clamped shut and she crossed her arms. I felt a twinge
of satisfaction.

Mom turned back to me. “Well, that will certainly be an interesting
subject. Are you going to be able to be objective about it?”

Mom had a good point. Reporters were supposed to be objective, not
favoring one side or the other. How could I get to that place when I was so angry about
what had happened?

“I hope so,” I said, and twirled up another bite of
spaghetti.

When I was done with dinner I went into the den and called Hailey. Too
much information for an IM. I needed some voice time.

“Hi,” she said, sounding out of breath when she answered the
phone.

“What were you just doing? Running laps around the house?”

“Practicing handstands. Builds up your core.”

“Oh yeah, that's what I was doing, too,” I said.

“Really?”

“Uh, no.” I have never done a handstand that didn't end
in me crashing to the floor and almost breaking my neck. “So Michael asked me on a
work date this Wednesday. I don't know if he would call it that,
though.”

“I think if he asked you to come over and work, it at least
qualifies as a work date. See, now that's something positive about the math exam
disaster. You have an urgent story that needs attention!”

“True,” I said, considering this.

“Who do you think did it?” she asked.

“Someone who doesn't care about anyone else,” I blurted
out. Then I remembered what my mom said. Be objective, Sam. Be objective. That was going
to have to become my new mantra. “No, I don't really mean that.”

“Yes, you do!” Hailey said. “I kind of feel that way
too, but maybe it was someone who just felt desperate, felt like they had no other
choice.”

An image of Will Hutchins flashed in my mind. I turned sideways in the big
armchair and hung my legs over the arm. “What do you think of Will
Hutchins?”

“Why? Did he do it?” Hailey asked in a hushed, excited
tone.

“Oh, gosh no,” I said. The last thing I wanted to do was
spread rumors like that. “I mean, I have no idea. He just had a lot to say about
it in my math class and seemed weirdly sympathetic to the hacker.”

“He's a little strange,” she said. “I'm
surprised he had a lot to say. He's in my language arts class and never says a
word.”

“Yeah, I was surprised myself.”

“Well, maybe you should interview him for the paper,” Hailey
said, her voice sounding suddenly far away and breathless again.

“Another handstand?” I asked her.

“Yeah, have you on speaker,” she called out.

“You're insane,” I said. Where did she get her
energy?

“No, you are,” she said, and then I heard a crash and a
yelp.

“Hailey?” I asked, panicked.

“I'm okay,” a small, faraway voice said.

After Hailey recovered and assured me she hadn't broken anything, I
told her about the morning jacket incident and then her mom told her she had to get off
the phone and do her homework. I had to do mine, too.

Back in my room, I took another look at Rock Star's letter. This
time I sat on my bed in a cross-legged position and took slow breaths in and out the way
Allie had showed me from a yoga class she'd taken.
Reporter
Turns to Yoga for the Answers.
Why not? I needed all the help I could get.
Even though it wasn't my job to be objective as Know-It-All, I thought I should
practice, so at least I could be levelheaded about it. I breathed in, and as I let my
breath out I whispered, “Be objective.” Then I read the letter again. Maybe
that's all she or he could see, the rock star dream, and it truly felt like
nothing else mattered. But then when I got to the part where it said that Rock Star
wanted his or her friend to “help” out again, my blood started to boil. What
you really mean, Rock Star, is that you want your friend to “help” you cheat
in your language arts class again and not only risk your own standing in school but your
friend's as well. Ugh! Maybe I wasn't as good at this objective reporter
thing as I thought.

In the morning I got to school early and officially started my piece by
doing some man-on-the-street interviews about the math department security breach, as it
was officially being called. I had those unofficial quotes from math class the other
day, but I'd have to go back and ask Mrs. Birnbaum, Will, and Sophie for
permission to use them.

The first two interviews were what I expected. The seventh-graders I
talked to lamented how unfair it was that they had to take a test over just because of
someone else's bad decision. I knew I was going to get a lot of quotes along this
line. I mean, how could someone not feel that way, right? But I summoned my inner
objective reporter. I needed another view, something unexpected, something that would
show another side to the story. Then I saw Will Hutchins walking down the hall. He
wasn't wearing a hoodie, which made him look a little more accessible. He was
looking down at the floor, his hands tightly holding the straps of his backpack. I took
a deep breath and went up to him.