Flirting with Disaster (20 page)

After school I grabbed my stuff to head over to the office.

“Good luck,” Penny said. “Text me when it’s over.”

The newspaper office was still pretty busy. Melissa and Jack had mainly cleared out their stuff, although Jack was there most days helping to transition Hazelle. Everyone else was hard at work writing or editing. Everyone except me, that is.

“Come on into my office,” Hazelle said. I noticed how she rolled the words
my office
off her tongue with ease. She hadn’t lost her bossy tone, but maybe there was a little less sting to it than the week before.

I sat down in the very chair I’d sat in when I was trying to convince Jack to let me write for the paper at the beginning of the school year. Here I was, nearly a year later, doing the exact same thing.

“So have you given any thought to the horoscope column?” Hazelle asked.

“Yes, I have. I take my writing and the Wexburg Academy
Times
very seriously. But in the end, Hazelle, I just can’t do anything with the horoscopes. I’m sorry.”

She looked shocked. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not kidding. As committed as I am to this paper, I can’t compromise my principles to write a column. What kind of advice giver would I be if I told everyone to give up what they believed in so they could get something they wanted, you know?”

“That’s not what I’ve asked you to do,” she said, defending herself.

“I understand that. But that’s how I see it. I just can’t do it.”

“Well, then, I’m sorry, Savvy. I need someone who can do what the paper needs.” She pulled her pencil from behind her ear and tapped it on the desk in front of her. I could hear her foot tapping underneath the desk.

I was nervous too, but I did my best to keep my feet—and my voice—steady. “Then I guess that’s all there is to it,” I said.

Hazelle stood and headed toward the office door. “I have to do what’s best for the paper.”

I joined her next to the still-closed door and made my final comment. “If that’s true, you’d agreed with Jack that I could write an article. It seems like journalistic integrity would apply there, too.”

Hazelle looked like I’d slapped her. She flung open the door and walked out. I followed close behind her, bumping into Natalie as I did.

Natalie took one look at both of our flushed faces and then turned toward me. “I told you this would go badly. Too bad you never quite got over Rhys preferring me to you. If you had, you’d have voted for me and none of this would have happened.”

“What do you mean?” Hazelle burst in.

“You’re apparently not bright enough to realize that Savvy held the swing vote. I tallied up all those I could count on to support me before the election—it came to exactly six. And then I counted up your supporters. Six. Which left Savvy.”

I stood between them again, knowing what Natalie said was true. I’d done the sum myself.

After dropping her little bomb, Natalie turned her back to us, took her heavy book bag—presumably packed with the last of the stuff she’d had at her Wexburg Academy
Times
desk—and flounced out.

Chapter 44

On Tuesday, Penny came home from school with me. We hung out in my room with crisps and dip and Coke. She pulled out a big old navy blue case. It definitely didn’t look like the usual posh Penny fare.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“My art portfolio,” she said. “Battered and tatty as it may be.” She unzipped it and took out a booklet. Then she handed it to me.

“The dude decoder!” I flipped through it. She’d taken our initial ramblings and sketches and made them into a real booklet. “So cool.”

“I thought so too.” She grinned. “I showed them to the girl I’d mentioned to you—remember, the one I wanted to share an art project with? She thought it was awesome too—and she even said we could work together on our final project! Thanks for the idea.”

We flipped through the pages and laughed over some of the drawings. I stopped at the page with the sketch of a guy about to kiss someone.

“Not ready to turn the page?” she teased.

I threw a pillow at her. “I’m studying the pose. Just so I’ll know what I’m looking for.”

A couple of hours later she headed home, and as I closed the door behind her, I said to my mom, “I feel kind of bad having her over here. I mean, her house is so big. And she has a housekeeper.”

“We may not have a housekeeper, but we do have Aunt Maude,” Mom replied, a wicked gleam in her eye. “She’s coming on Thursday. For the night. Dad and I are going to spend the night in London for a work conference.”

No. No. No.
I would have enough trouble as it was this weekend, trying to decide if I should contact Becky again before writing the article, figuring out how to make the article exciting enough to generate buzz. I didn’t need Aunt Maude on top of it all.

Chapter 45

Thursday after school I arrived to a house that smelled faintly like skunk.

“Hullo, dear,” Aunt Maude said as I walked into the kitchen.

“Hello, Aunt Maude, how are you?” I asked politely, dreading her response. My dad was grinning behind his newspaper. I knew it, even though I couldn’t see his face. I could see the paper quiver.

“I’m simply awful,” Maude said. “My varicose veins are popping faster than a drug addict’s. Do you want to see?”

She reached down and was about ready to pull up a polyester pant leg when I hurriedly rushed in with “No, no thank you. Weak stomach.”

“Well, all right, then,” she said. “And then there’s the digestive system. My goodness. You’ve never heard so many noises. I never have, anyway. My friend Agnes told me that I’m right to be concerned and that she’s going to arrange a visit with a specialist on Harley Street straightaway. So we’ll be eating soft food tonight.”

“Oh, yum. What are we having?” I leaped at the opportunity to change the subject.

“I’m making bubble and squeak right now,” Maude answered.

I glanced over to where my father was sitting in the corner, reading his paper. The paper was absolutely shaking now. “Dad, can you come upstairs?” I asked.

“Sure, Savvy.” He closed the paper, and I knew he was using all his self-control to hold those forty-three facial muscles in check and not burst out laughing.

I grabbed my book bag and headed up to my room. Dad was right behind me.

“You’ll have a good time tonight,” he said. “Even if Aunt Maude’s digestive problems are causing her to bubble and squeak.”

“Very funny,” I said. “You’re going to owe me for this. Like a fantastic sweet sixteen birthday. In three weeks.”

“Hey,” Dad said, “I’ve got it. What does Savvy sound like when she’s been overchewing her gum? Bubble and squeak.”

“Not funny, Dad.” I tossed my books in the corner as Mom came in for a quick vote of approval on her outfit.

“Looks great, Mom,” I said. “Can I come?”

She grinned. “Nope!”

They kissed Louanne good-bye and headed downstairs and into London for the night.

“So what shall we do?” Aunt Maude said once Louanne and I returned to the kitchen. Aunt Maude had already cut up half a chicken breast for Growl, his favorite, and he was resting contentedly on the back of the couch. “The bubble and squeak is boiling away. I’ve got some lovely ideas for afters, but we have some time to kill first.” She peered out the window into the back garden area. “Well, hardly a thing has been done since we cleaned it up last month. Mum pretty busy?”

I made eye contact with Louanne, who looked back at me. I wasn’t exactly sure how much to tell her.