Don't Kiss Him Good-Bye (16 page)

Was she in trouble? Should I confront her? She said it wasn’t dangerous, but still . . .

I stayed up late and prayed about it, and I looked up Scripture to write my answer. Then I mailed in my response to Jack. Would he be surprised to see it a day early?

I’ll answer her question in this week’s paper. If I don’t see an improvement in a week, or ten days at the most, I’ll confront her and tell Mom and Dad.

Growl scratched at my door, which was odd. Normally he was glued to Louanne, even while she was sleeping.

Chapter 33

I got to school early the next day. Good thing, too, because if Penny was the good witch Glinda, then Natalie was the Wicked Witch of the West, and she was waiting for me in the WA
Times
office.

“I’m not sure if this is all you could come up with, Savannah,” she said, throwing a sheaf of papers at me, “but mostly it’s rubbish. You just focused your attention on your friends as couples, your pet project clothing store, and some happy-go-lucky nonfacts about May Day. Care to try again?”

I suddenly had a new understanding of the wounds caused by a
paper cut.

Everyone in the office kept their heads down—listening, I knew, but not intervening. “No, actually, I don’t,” I said. “I’ve done my best, and if this won’t work, I’m sorry, but I won’t be a help to you on this article.” I was sorry Melissa would be let down. Neither she nor Jack was there that morning.

“Fine, then,” Natalie said. “Since you clearly can’t follow directions, I’ll take the snaps at the ball myself.”

I nodded but said nothing so as not to betray the sorrow caught in my throat. Just peachy. Why did she have to come back? I headed toward the back and asked Rob if I could use his computer for a minute. “Sure, Savvy,” he said. “Sorry about Little Miss Sunshine. You could always talk to the adviser about her.”

I shook my head. I had my secret assignment. I had friends on staff. I’d make my own way in my own time.

“I’m off to class, then,” he said. “Log off when you’re done, all right?”

“Okay.” I logged on to my e-mail to see that Jack had already confirmed receipt of my column and had forwarded a few new messages to me. I quickly looked through them to see if there was anything new from Louanne. Mostly just the usual suspects—boy trouble, friend trouble, parent trouble. One caught my eye. The subject line simply said,
I Know.

I read it quickly, one eye on the clock, knowing that Mr. Thompson was going to come down hard on me if I was late again.

Hullo. I have a few of your papers—rough drafts of questions and answers that let me know your real identity as the author of the Asking for Trouble column. I’ve kept it a secret. Do you want your papers back, or should I destroy them?

Someone knew my secret! But who? And how?

I logged off and then raced to class, sliding into my seat just as the bell stopped ringing. I didn’t offer Brian gum, and I didn’t look at Hazelle to see if she had any sympathy at all for me after my interaction with Natalie that morning. I pretended to jot down what Mr. Thompson was saying, but my entire brain was focused on one question:
Who knows?

Could it be Hazelle? or Rob or Rodney or Melissa? Someone at the paper was the most likely choice because they could have stumbled upon something in the newspaper office. But no one had given the tiniest hint.

Who else? Louanne . . . from last night’s e-mail? Possibly. But the e-mail voice was pretty mature. And Louanne would have said,
hi
or
hello
and not
hullo
like most Brits.

Where had I kept those papers? In my notebook. And where had I taken my notebook? Everywhere.

I worried about it all day. On my way out of school I bumped into Rhys, who happened to be standing near the exit I normally took on my way home.

“Hey, Savannah.” He looked at my face. “You okay?”

I took a deep breath. “I guess so.”

“Can I help?” He really did seem concerned. “Do I need to step in and break some skulls for you?”

I smiled but wasn’t sure if he really meant it or not. “I assume you don’t beat up girls,” I said back. Since he’d appeared really concerned, and since one of the deals had gone down in a public newsroom, I decided to just say, “Well, I had a major disagreement with someone on the newspaper staff today. I was supposed to be a partner and the photographer for the May Day Ball article. But Natalie took me off—and told me off—in front of everyone.”

He rested his arm on my shoulder. I could smell the rosemary mint of his shampoo. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was hard to breathe with him this close. “I’m sorry. But maybe it’ll all work out for the best. Even if she was mean. It might make it possible for you to enjoy the ball yourself.”

I nodded. I was aware that I hadn’t answered him and that I needed to so he could ask someone else if he wanted to. “I’ve got to chat with my mother tonight,” I said. “And then I’ll let you know after school tomorrow. Okay?”

He stood back and smiled. “Take my picture to show your mum.”

My first thought was,
Wow, a little overconfident?
But then he made a crazy face and it made me laugh. I took a pic with my phone and headed home to talk with my mom.

I had noticed that he’d kept a complete poker face when I’d mentioned the paper. But Rhys would. I got the feeling he never let anyone know what he was truly feeling.

Chapter 34

“So why aren’t you saying anything?” I asked my mom as she stared at the picture of Rhys.

“I’m looking,” Mom answered.

“Is it the ponytail? Because it’s really short and neat. All those guys in the Bible wore long hair. And so did the guys in the American Revolution.”

My mother looked up and rolled her eyes at me. “And so did your father for a time, and I obviously don’t think he’s a bad guy.”

“He did?” I couldn’t believe it. “Dad?”

She nodded. “Dad.”

“And look at him. Could he be nicer? cleaner? healthier? The man drinks tomato juice for breakfast every day.”

Mom patted the couch beside her. “Sav, it’s not the ponytail. It’s just that every time you talk about this boy, you’re not yourself. You’re either really up or really down or really confused. You don’t know what he thinks or what he believes or what you have in common.”

“We’re friends,” I insisted. “So we’d only be going as friends.”

“Friends talk about issues; they help each other; they feel comfortable with each other. I don’t know your heart, but from my point of view, that doesn’t seem to be happening here. And does
he
know you’re just friends?”

I tapped my foot for a minute. Then I took off my shoes and tossed them into the corner, scaring Growl. That hadn’t even been my intention—this time.
That dog is as dumb as dirt
, I thought. Then I looked up. Why had I thought
tha
t
?

“I am sure he does.”

My mother looked doubtful.

“I’ll tell him in very straight words,” I promised. “Can I go?”

“This has to be your decision, Savvy,” she said. “But I want you to think hard about it. When you go out with someone, dress up, or even just become friends with him, you are giving away a precious piece of yourself. Make sure that each person you give a piece of Savvy to deserves it.”

I leaned into her arm. “I will, Mom.”

She reached her arm around me and stroked my hair. “Firsts are especially important, things you’ll always remember. First dances, first formal dresses . . . first kisses . . .”

“I am
not
going to kiss Rhys,” I said.

She stood up. “But he may try to kiss you.” She ruffled my hair and then padded into the kitchen to do the dishes while I went upstairs to text Penny. I wanted to tell her but didn’t actually want to talk with her.

I’ve decided to go to the May Day Ball with Rhys.

Her answer came right back.

Are you sure, Sav?

Yes. And we’re just friends. I’ll tell him that.

As long as you’re sure that’s what you want. . . . So can my mum invite your mum to the Day After Garden and Tea Party?

I texted back yes immediately. I didn’t tell her, of course, but that was one of my main reasons for wanting to go. There were lots of good reasons to go, of course. To have fun with everyone. To enjoy dancing. To dress up in a formal! And to hang out with Rhys for the night too.