Forty-Four
That girl, she grew up to be an
Actress with blonde curls
Always pretending, started forgetting
Until the part hit her too hard
‘The Part’ from Dreamers
This is only the second day at the Croydon Post, but I love it!
I’m sad it’s going to be over soon. Even though we’re not exactly covering breaking news, there’s something exciting about working on live stories, watching the writers plan and pitch articles.
I mostly observe, trying to be as helpful as possible, and I get this huge rush of satisfaction when someone thanks me.
Disaster has struck in the form of my interview though. I was meant to interview Annie yesterday, but she has a family emergency in Scotland and will be gone for the rest of the week. So now I’m back to square one.
‘Who do you think I should interview?’ I ask Gareth. We’re sitting together, going through some library archives on the history of the city. Gareth is doing an article of strange laws that are still in existence today, and we’re trying to cross-reference.
‘Ah, I am the judge of the competition, Selena. I don’t think it’s fair to hand out advice,’ he says.
‘A fair judge,’ I say teasingly. ‘Can you at least give me an idea of the criteria? I don’t really have any connections, and I want to be in with a shot of winning. My first proper byline. And I’m a huge Rose Conrad fan.’
‘You do have a shot of winning,’ says Gareth. ‘And no part of the criteria is about how famous a celebrity you interview. I would focus on the story you’re telling. And a good story can come from anyone.’
‘Okay . . .’ I say, finding his advice more mysterious than helpful. I’ve still no clue who to interview.
At lunch, I meet Tori and Doug.
I’ve been getting along much better with Tori over the past two days. I think it’s abundantly clear she is not top dog in these circumstances, and the levelling of the field has made her more approachable. She even asked me for help yesterday on how to navigate a database I had used the day before.
But I know Tori, and she still wants to win.
‘I overheard you talking to Gareth earlier,’ she says, as I sit down. ‘It’s a small office. I know you care a lot about Rose Conrad, Selena . . . but I want the bylines. I want to prove myself as a writer.’
I look at her and realise, ‘So do I. It’s not about winning the tickets for me. I want to prove to myself that I’m good at this. And of course win the tickets.’
‘Well then, let the best woman win,’ she says.
‘Or man,’ says Doug. ‘My girlfriend really wants to go to the concert.’
I laugh. ‘Fair enough. Some healthy competition will be good. I’ve already lost out on tickets once, it’s not going to kill me to lose them a second time.’
We start talking about the projects we’re working on, when mine and Tori’s phones vibrate.
My hands start to tingle, a nervous feeling spreading through me. I think I know what this is.
Tori opens her phone. ‘It’s an email: The Common Room: festive edition,’ she reads out loud, slowly and confused. ‘But I haven’t created a festive edition of The Common Room. It’s also a Tuesday, not a Thursday. We decided not to release anything on the last week of term, as I’m here.’
I tap on the email on my phone and open it up, although I know exactly what it says.
★ The Common Room ★
A FESTIVE MESSAGE FROM THE NOT-SO-SECRET SENDER
As the year draws to a close, I realise I owe a lot of people an apology.
Firstly you, the reader. What started out as a harmless way of voicing my opinions derailed into harmful opinions.
Ones with no consequences for me, as I could hide in my anonymity.
You all took what I said as truth, without anyone being able to hold me accountable.
Like Santa is also Saint Nicholas, the Secret Sender is also Selena. It’s time to ditch the mask.
That’s not good journalism, and I apologise for it. I am sorry if my opinions harmed you or your friendships; if you felt attacked and had no way to respond. I excused myself by pretending to be above it all, but I was taking out my feelings on others through quips and jibes.
So, to the whole school, I am sorry.
Also, Ms Harkness, you were right. Secrets get you nowhere.
There’s another very public apology I must make.
Kira Ganyo, I am sorry.
I am sorry for taking your support for granted. I am sorry for calling you interfering, when all you were doing was trying to help me. I am sorry for being so self-conscious I accused you of jealousy.
These are all very embarrassing things to admit, but Kira, I am not embarrassed about how much I love you.
And in the season of giving, I am giving you this very public apology. With my own name attached.
Please forgive me, because I need you to be my friend.
From the person who used to be known as the Secret Sender.
Selena Pia
‘Wow,’ says Tori, finishing reading it. ‘How did you get this published?’
‘That’s all you have to say about the article?’ I say, shaking my head.
‘It’s not my opinion that counts here, is it? Do you think Kira has read it yet?’