Digital Disaster! (4 page)

“Hi, Will. Can I talk to you for a sec?” I asked, clutching my
notebook to my chest.

He looked up at me, then looked behind him as if he wasn't sure I
was really talking to him.

“Uh, sure,” he said when he realized I was actually talking to
him.

“I'm doing a story about the test scandal,” I said, and
then paused to clear my throat. That wasn't really an objective way of putting it.
I started again. “I mean, the security issue with the math department computer
files.”

He smirked, but didn't say anything.

“I just wondered,” I went on, “if you had any other
thoughts about it, um, besides what you said in math class.”

“Not really,” he said back.

“Yes, but—”

“Feel free to quote me.” He continued walking past me, down
the hallway. I watched his back as he disappeared around the corner. Something was going
on with that kid.
Middle School Reporter Discovers Suspect!
I know I was getting carried away, but “objectively” Will's
behavior was suspicious, whether he intended it to be or not.

A few minutes later I saw Michael coming down the hall.

“So how's it going?” Michael said, coming up to me,
pointing to my notebook. “Got anything good?”

“I don't know if I've earned my cinnamon buns just
yet,” I said, and sighed, leaning against a locker. Then I lowered my voice,
turning to Michael. “Do you know Will Hutchins?”

“Yeah, sort of. What about him?” he asked.

“I don't know. He had a lot to say about the test sca—I
mean, security breach—in math class the other day. He was saying that maybe the
person who did it was really overwhelmed and didn't realize how much chaos it
would cause.”

“Really, he said that?” Michael sounded surprised. “Do
you think he was talking about himself?”

“I doubt it. I mean, who would be that obvious? But then this
morning when I asked him if he wanted to say more, he said he didn't and just
walked away.”

“I guess this story is just going to get more and more
interesting.”

“I guess so,” I said.
Be objective. Be
objective
, I thought over and over as Michael and I walked to class.

I got some pretty good quotes by Wednesday. Michael hadn't said
anything about our work date since he'd IM'd me on Monday. Is it possible
that he'd forgotten? Should I just come right out and ask him if we were still on?
I needed a consult with Hailey ASAP.

Finally lunch rolled around and I walked into the cafeteria slowly,
looking around for Hailey before I saw Michael. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw
the back of Hailey's head talking to someone. I started booking over there until I
realized she was talking to, you guessed it, Mr. Michael Lawrence himself, along with
some of his friends from the baseball team.

“Hey, Paste,” he said when he saw me. “What's
up?”

“Hi,” Hailey said, a big smile on her face.

“Hi,” I said back, feeling a little flustered. “So how
are your quotes going?” I blurted out.

“Really, really awesome,” Michael said, and smiled. He whipped
out his notebook. “Want to sit here and talk about it?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, staring at Hailey so she'd get that
I was trying to tell her something. “But Hailey and I just have to, um, go over
some stuff for something. Right, Hails?”

Hailey looked at me, confused. “Yeah . . . that
stuff,” she said, trying to figure out what was going on.

Michael looked at me and then at Hailey. Now he was confused. They both
stared at me.

“You okay?” Michael asked, turning his head to one side.

“Yes, I'm fine,” I said, gathering myself. “What I
mean is, why don't Hailey and I go over . . . that
stuff . . . and then come over to your table?”

He just nodded. “Great.”

When Michael had turned to grab his backpack off the table, Hailey gave me
her “what the heck is going on?” shrug. I gave back my “just ignore
me; I'm out of my mind” eye roll.

“You know what. I have to talk to Frank,” Michael said.
“Maybe I'll catch you after lunch, okay?”

“Okay,” I said weakly.

“What in the world was that all about?” she said when Michael
finally left.

“I know I was acting like a freak. But now I still don't know
if I'm supposed to go over to his house tonight. I wanted to talk to you before I
saw him. That obviously didn't work out.”

“Well, why didn't you just ask him?”

“I felt funny about it.”

“Sammy, I'm still going to be giving you the same advice about
Michael when we're seniors in high school.”

“You're probably right,” I said, and sighed. How do I
get myself into these things? “So what should I do now?”

Hailey gave me an exasperated look. “Just ask him!” she said.
“Hang out by his locker, look real cute, and say something like ‘Hey, Lawrence,
are we on tonight?'”

“I don't know,” I said. Hailey rolled her eyes. Where
was all this shyness coming from? Hailey was right. My crush on Michael was probably
going to stay just a crush forever. “But no pushing me into him this time or
anything!” A while ago, Hailey had developed the incredibly annoying habit of
shoving me into Michael whenever we saw him to try to move things forward between us.
Not a good plan.

“Scout's honor,” Hailey said, and crossed her
fingers.

I hoped she'd stick to it, but now what was I going to do? Track him
down and ask him, or not? For some reason I was still thinking not.

Chapter 4

Young Journalist Sinks Article Out of Fear of Inviting Herself Over

I didn't see Michael for the rest of the day. I came home, did my
homework, and barely said a word through dinner. Afterward, I threw myself on my bed. I
looked over at my computer. All I had to do was turn it on and message him. Why was it
such a big deal? Maybe I had just wanted him to confirm with me because he was the one
who invited me. The truth was, though, that we had to meet soon and start figuring out
our angle for the article. If it wasn't tonight, then it had to be tomorrow.
Young Journalist Sinks Article Out of Fear of Inviting Herself
Over.
I had to get in the “business” frame of mind and not worry
about what Michael would think, like, immediately. I did a little Allie-style breathing
and turned on my computer. I had to be brave and message him. What if he thought I was
blowing him off? As the computer was starting up I heard the phone ring. Allie bounded
into my room.

“Don't you ever knock?” I asked her.

She held up the cordless phone she'd been holding behind her back.
“It's lover boy,” she whispered, and handed me the phone

I glared at her and took the phone. “Hello?” I said, sounding
like I had no idea who it was.

“Hi, Sam. It's Michael,” he said.

“Hey,” I said, playing it all cool.

“I thought you were coming over?” he said now, a worried tone
in his voice.

“Oh! I'm sorry. I—” Ugh. I wasn't even sure
what to say. “I didn't think you said a time, and then I wasn't sure
if we were still on, or if I should call you, and I was going to message you,
but . . .”

“Well, can you come over now? We've really got to get
started.” His worried tone was now turning into an impatient one.

“Yes, of course. I'll be right over!” I said, praying my
mom would let me, and hung up the phone.

“Sam, why didn't you tell me this earlier?” Mom was
already in her sweatpants, making popcorn for the dance contest show she and Allie
watched every Wednesday night. Sometimes I joined them, if I was in the mood to listen
to Allie criticize the dancers, who all seemed pretty awesome to me.

I wasn't about to explain to my mom everything that had gone through
my head about it. “I forgot, and Michael just called wondering where I was. We
really have to work on the article.”

She looked at me and sighed. “I understand. I just wasn't
planning on heading out. It's hard to keep up with your schedule!” She
poured the popcorn into a bowl and grabbed her car keys. “Allie!” she
called. “Be back in ten minutes! Just dropping Sam off at
Michael's!”

Allie appeared out of nowhere.

“I didn't know you had a hot date,” she said. “And
that's what you're wearing?”

I looked down. I was wearing jeans and my favorite green T-shirt. I was
comfortable, and green looked good with my hair.

“It's my lucky T-shirt,” I said, my hands on my hips.
“And for your information, I'm not going on a date. It's for the
paper.”

“Wait one sec,” she said, and skidded off in her socks toward
her bedroom.

“Allie,” Mom called. “We're going.”

She appeared again in five seconds flat with a purple sweater, boots, and
hanging earrings.

“Just put these on! Trust me.”

My mom rolled her eyes, and I was about to tell Allie she was crazy. I
just wanted to put the work first and not get wrapped up in my crush. This article was
super important, and possibly, as Mr. Trigg had said, the most important one I'd
work on all year. Still, I couldn't help myself.

“Okay. Maybe you're right,” I said, and started changing
right there in the middle of the hall.

“Oh, Sam, you looked fine,” Mom said, jingling her keys.
“The train is leaving in T-5.”

I pulled on my boots and stood up to fluff my hair. “Okay?” I
asked Allie.

She gave me a thumbs-up.

“Thanks!” I said, throwing her my T-shirt. Big sisters might
be annoying, but she was ultimately on my side.

“Have fun!” she called after me.

On the way over, I was happy that Allie had given me her mini-makeover.
Who was I kidding? A chance to hang out at Michael Lawrence's house on a random
evening? Priceless. I should at least put a little effort into it.

Michael answered the door in a T-shirt and jeans, looking a lot better
than I had in my T-shirt—or at least I thought so.

“Pick me up at nine?” I called to Mom. She nodded and drove
away.

The house smelled good, but it wasn't cinnamon buns this time.

“Mmmm, something smells delicious.”

“Oh, it's just banana bread,” he said, shrugging, and
walked quickly into the kitchen. I followed him.

His mom and dad were there, putting the dinner dishes away.

“Hi, Sam,” his mom said. “You look nice.”

Michael looked at me again and his dad nodded and smiled at me.

“You do,” Michael said.

“Thanks,” I said, giving a little wave, feeling the warmth
rush to my cheeks. Now I was wondering if I should have stuck with the T-shirt and
stayed under the radar.

Mrs. Lawrence wiped her hands on a towel and looked at me again.
“Michael tried out a new recipe for you.”

“Mom,” Michael said, now a little color rising on
his
face. “I just wanted a good snack, so I made
one,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“Just giving credit where credit's due.” She
grinned.

Michael was not only a great athlete and a great writer. The guy could
actually bake, and to top it off he was a little shy about it. Swoon. I wondered,
though, had he really gone to all this trouble for me, or was I just an excuse to bake
something?

“Do you want some?” he asked quickly, as he started cutting
the loaf on the counter in slices. I nodded vigorously. He put two pieces on plates and
poured us glasses of milk.

“Let's go into the dining room,” he said, handing me my
plate and a glass of milk.

“Okay,” I said, and followed him. We put our food down on the
table. I still had my backpack on. I took it off and got out my notebook.

“Use place mats!” his mom called after him.

“Okay,” he called back. He turned to me and shook his head in
an exasperated way. “Let me get those and my notes. Be right back.”

While he left, I stared at the piece of banana bread. I knew it was polite
to wait for him to come back before I had a bite, but I couldn't help myself. I
pinched off a small piece from a corner and popped it into my mouth. It was still warm
and moist and completely amazing. I wondered if his parents could see me from the
kitchen.

He came bounding into the dining room with place mats in one hand and a
notebook in the other. I quickly wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Started already, snacky?” he joked.

“Ha-ha,” I answered back. “I couldn't help myself.
You can't leave me alone with warm homemade banana bread. You should be a baker
when you grow up.”

He smiled and sat down and took a big bite himself. “Pretty good.
Needs a little more sugar, though. Yeah, I'm thinking I'll be a professional
baseball player and a journalist, with a bakery on the side.”