The New Guy (and Other Senior Year Distractions) Part 22

"Can we talk?" I ask. "Please?"

"Alex is really upset," Sadie says. "You being here is just making it worse."

"Why? I was trying to... I thought..." I start to cry. It's right then that I realize everyone near us is staring. People across the cafeteria are staring too. Basically the entire school is watching this happen. People are watching Alex looking more deflated than I've ever seen him, and it's not at all his fault.

To be completely fair, once upon a time, it was his fault. He lied and cheated in a huge way, but in the midst of falling in love with him, it was so easy to write that all off as Former Alex. Young Alex. The Past's Alex. On-screen Alex.

Not my Alex.

And now it seems like he's none of those Alexes anymore.

"Fine," he says.

We walk out into the hallway together, though we have to stick near the cafeteria entrance so we don't get into trouble.

"You were so relieved when TALON ran the video of us," I say.

Alex crosses his arms across his chest. "Uh-huh."

"And you'd mentioned... that there were things about Chaos 4 All you couldn't even talk about now," I say. "Your quotes to Marisa made it seem that way too. I thought you'd be so happy to just have it out there and not have to hide it anymore."

I hope it's okay to leave out the part where I wanted to beat Natalie.

"Jules, s.h.i.t," he says. "I just meant that I hardly ever saw my parents and I felt like I didn't have control over my life and there's no way to really get ready for being that famous. Not that I cheated."

"I was trying to help," I say.

"I knew you cared about the rivalry more than almost anything, but I guess I was stupid enough to think I wasn't part of the almost."

"You weren't-you aren't. Alex, please. I only ran it for you." I hate how that's only partially true. Right? Oh, G.o.d, I don't like doubting myself. "I know you're mad, but-"

"I can't believe you'd expect me to believe that," he says. "If you ran it for me, why not check with me? Why link me to the TALON s.h.i.t, when that's recent? There's no way you did this for me."

"You seemed relieved when we were finally public," I say, "as a couple. I thought this would be the same. And you were in the article!"

"You thought accusing me of faking my past success, and using that to fake TALON's success would... relieve me?" He shakes his head. "You were the first girl after all of that who I thought I could trust. I could be myself around you. Guess I called that wrong."

He turns from me and walks back into the cafeteria.

I numbly find myself walking back through the hallway and into Mr. Wheeler's cla.s.sroom. Everyone's eating pizza and chatting, but they look up at me when I enter the room. I touch my face and remember that I'm crying.

"Jules," Carlos says.

"I don't want to talk to anyone," I say as I sit down at Mr. Wheeler's desk. No one moves or says anything for what feels like forever, but of course eventually everyone goes back to eating pizza and talking.

"Hey." Thatcher walks over to me. "You okay?"

"Obviously I'm not."

"I'm not really good at giving advice," he says with a shrug. "Maybe I should have talked you out of it."

"You couldn't have," I say. "I think I tricked myself into believing something so I could..."

I don't want to finish the sentence with win, and I'm glad Thatcher doesn't do it for me.

"Just be honest," Thatcher says. "There's the advice I'll give now. Be honest with everyone, especially with yourself."

When the bell rings, I drag myself to Topics in Economics. I've beaten Alex there, and I hurriedly scribble onto a piece of loose-leaf paper before he arrives.

Alex, Please believe me. I'd never try to hurt you. I screwed up, but of course I care about you more than The Crest. I love you.

-Jules When Alex walks by I hold up the sheet of paper, but he just reaches down and b.a.l.l.s it up into his fist.

None of my friends speak to me for the rest of the day, though there's no such luck with the rest of the school. Even though my name's clearly not in the byline, people have questions about Ethan Summers, the research, and VidLook. I'm convinced I must look like far too much of a mess to be taken seriously, but when I duck into the bathroom to examine myself in the mirror, I look the same as always.

How does heartbreak look so normal on me?

Natalie is waiting for me at my locker when the school day finally ends.

"Hi," I say.

She holds up a copy of the Crest. "We should sue you for libel."

"It all looks very suspicious," I say. "You can't deny that."

"Do you honestly think we'd fake our numbers?" she asks. "Do you think we'd need to?"

"Who outside of the school would even care about TALON?" I ask.

"Parents," she says. "Friends from other schools. We've reached out to journalists and other school video programs. It adds up quickly, Julia."

"Okay," I say.

"We'll put together something for this Friday," she says. "But I'll still expect a retraction in next week's issue of the Crest."

"I'll have to consult with Mr. Wheeler about that," I say, though that just reminds me that Mr. Wheeler doesn't know what we published, and tomorrow he will. How were my instincts so incredibly wrong?

"Do." Natalie drops the issue of the Crest at my feet and walks off.

At home I fly through my homework, and fake the best mood that isn't suspicious on a Monday for Mom and Darcy. There's so little I've kept from them, but the day has been rough enough. Hopefully it's fair to hold off on letting them know just how much their only, very expensive, daughter screwed up for another day or two.

My phone is silent, even though I keep praying that it'll beep with a message from Sadie or Alex or even Em or Thatcher with something comforting. When I check my email, it's a flood of messages, but it's hardly good news. Some sleazier celebrity blogs have picked up the story, and now the details aren't just ours. The story belongs to the whole world now, or at least the whole World Wide Web.

I wanted national attention, sure. But I didn't want that.

Sadie doesn't look at me when I arrive in women's history the next morning, but at this point it doesn't surprise me. What does, however, is that moments after the bell rings, the overhead system squawks my name again, just like last week. Once it tells me to report to Mr. Wheeler's room, though, it doesn't seem like much of a mystery.

Oh my G.o.d.

I slowly gather my books and my legs are shaking as I walk down the hallway. I expect to see a cla.s.s full of freshmen when I walk in, but it's empty besides him.

"I sent them to the library," he says at my confused expression.

"Oh," I say. And then, "Welcome back."

"I'm sure you know why I called you in here," he says.

"Yes," I say.

"Sit down, Jules." Mr. Wheeler sighs and picks up yesterday's issue of the Crest. "I don't even know where to start with this."

"Mr. Wheeler, I can explain everything, really."

"You're the one who's been talking about legacy all year, Jules," he says. "And I'm gone for less than one week, and you've brought the paper down to the level of a tabloid."

"Mr. Wheeler," I say, and this is the moment where I can't stop myself from crying in front of him. Mr. Wheeler has seen me in my pajamas, seen me fighting with my parents, and-though I've mainly blocked it out of my memory-once heard me singing a jingle for mayonnaise. But I'd relive any of those moments over crying.

"I know that you're right," I say finally. "I'm responsible for destroying our legacy."

He taps at a few keys on his computer. The printer comes to life and spits out one single sheet of paper. From where I'm sitting it looks like a letter.

"I sent this off last week." Mr. Wheeler grabs the paper off the printer and hands it to me. "But I thought you should take a look at it."

"Mr. Wheeler, I-"

"You're dismissed," he says. "I'll see you later in cla.s.s."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

Dear Admissions Staff of Brown University: I've known Julia McAllister-Morgan since the summer before her freshman year at Eagle Vista Academy. I coincidentally moved to a house next door to her family's, and through meeting her parents, met Julia as well. From the start she impressed me as a teenager mature beyond her years, with focus and dedication to school, despite the fact that her intelligence guaranteed she wouldn't have to try very hard if she didn't want to.

Julia joined the staff of the school newspaper, the Crest, at the beginning of her freshman year. It was apparent early on that her goal was to eventually earn the position of editor in chief. Due to her hard work and high standards over the next three years, I was pleased to offer this position to her at the start of her senior year. Often once students achieve the t.i.tle of editor in chief, I notice that their work ethic slides a bit with this goal achieved and senior-year responsibilities/activities encroaching on time and attention. With Julia, this couldn't be further from the truth.

This year, a new weekly news show commenced at Eagle Vista Academy. Their school TV program and Internet presence has certainly taken away some of the Crest's readership, as new media is liable to do to older forms. Julia was immediately concerned about protecting the legacy of the paper, even after being a.s.sured that the Crest was funded through her senior year. Her efforts to regain-and grow-readership had nothing to do with her personally, but the school's, and print media's, tradition.

This may give the impression that Julia is myopically focused on the Crest, but I'm aware she also handles duties for the a.s.sociated Student Body. In the hallways and during lunch, I've never seen her not surrounded by a large group of friends. And despite my declarations that I'm not at the stage of my life where I feel responsible enough for a pet, Julia's devotion to her volunteer work at a dog rescue shelter means that I've received many brochures about adoptable dogs in my area. This is all to say that while a devoted student, journalist, and leader, Julia is also a young adult with a full and diverse life.

Therefore, it's with the highest degree of confidence that I recommend Julia for undergraduate admission to Brown University. Her unstoppable spirit and clear desire to better the world will, no doubt, benefit your campus. She has definitely accomplished this at Eagle Vista Academy, and I'm excited to know she'll bring that energy with her next year to college.

Sincerely, Joseph Wheeler Academic Advisor, The Crest, Eagle Vista Academy

CHAPTER THIRTY.

I hope that by fourth period, we can just get back to normal, but Mr. Wheeler's anger is so palpable that even the freshmen know to slink in silently.

"I've already spoken to Jules," Mr. Wheeler says, "but I'd like to say that I'm disappointed in all of you. I'm sure many of you had absolutely nothing to do with this article, but I'm also sure that many of you did. There's no one in this room who should think that this is the type of story we should feel proud of publishing."

"It's gotten national media attention," Marisa says. "Isn't that good?"

Mr. Wheeler sighs. "For you, Marisa, I guess that it is. You've got something to put on your college applications next year. But for a school paper founded with intramural information and communication as goals, national media attention shouldn't have really been what we were aiming for. Marisa, you won't be writing any articles for two weeks. Jules will also be suspended from her duties for that time, as will Carlos, as that layout work is clearly his."

Mr. Wheeler shakes his head. "I wish I could discipline all of you, but obviously I can't write and design this entire thing on my own for two weeks, so that'll have to be it."

The cla.s.s moves on to normal topics, but it's Mr. Wheeler collecting information, not me, and it's Amanda working in the layout program, not Carlos. Marisa keeps raising her hand with story ideas and then very quickly putting it down. The three of us aren't built to do nothing, and yet that's all we'll have for two weeks.

I don't even attempt to walk to the cafeteria for lunch, but Em and Thatcher spot me on my way to the library and strong-arm me into walking with them. No one looks as severe as they did yesterday, though no one includes me in conversation either. All I want to do is write note upon note for Alex, I love yous and I'm sorrys and I still want this weekends, but I can't stand the thought of my words crumpled up again in his hands.

Em leans over and scribbles into my notebook. Don't worry, Jules-it'll all blow over, she writes, amid doodled curlicues of wind. I try glancing up at Sadie. She doesn't smile, but she doesn't look angry either. I decide to take it as a positive sign, because it's all I really have. But after school, no one texts or emails me, and lunch is exactly the same the next day, and the day after that. Maybe Em is right about the anger blowing over, but I worry everything else is here to stay.

On Friday, Natalie is seriously addressing the camera when TALON starts. I admit I'm jealous of her navy pin-striped blazer and the way her hair manages to be sleek and yet full of volume. I guess I might be jealous of less shallow aspects of Natalie too, like that she created this from nothing, and that people chose to follow her.

"h.e.l.lo, TALON viewers. This week at Eagle Vista Academy, there were serious accusations made by the Crest against the validity of TALON's success on VidLook, and possibly beyond. I'd like to address these accusations on behalf of the entire TALON staff."

Natalie's voice-over runs over screenshots of the comment sections of their VidLook page, as well as responses from journalists on Twitter to promise to check out TALON. There's no direct proof that TALON didn't doctor their numbers, but it seems extremely unlikely.

They're exactly as successful as they claim to be. Natalie built herself something that works, and works well at that. I'm clinging to a crumbling empire past its glory days.

When Alex's segment begins, I'm relieved that he looks like himself and not like the sh.e.l.l of his usual self who's been in cla.s.ses and across the lunch table from me this week. He's genuinely so good on camera. It's not just that he's cute (though of course he is) but he looks so comfortable, as if he was built just for this. In person, he's just a boy-an attractive and funny boy-but he'd probably blend into the crowd if not for Chaos 4 All. On-screen, though, he has all the confidence and charisma in the world. I realize my opinion could be biased, but I also see how other students lean forward in their chairs, watching Alex closely.

Of course, maybe the extra attention this week is my fault.

"Today on Alex 4 All," he says, and still grins like he's in love with this reference. I'm proud of how strong he is for not being embarra.s.sed, though I guess I have no right to pride anymore. "I'm on the set of The Beautiful Scourge with fellow E.V.A. student Sadie Sheraton-Hayes."

The camera pans out, and Sadie is standing next to him. I stare at her-Sadie at her desk, that is, not on the screen-but she won't make eye contact with me.

"Sadie," I whisper, and then, "Sadie," I say in my real voice when she doesn't respond.

"Miss McAllister-Morgan, be quiet during the presentation," Ms. Cannon says.

When Alex's face popped up the first time TALON popped up, I didn't think anything could feel worse.

This is definitely worse.