Chapter 12
TWELVE
Sara
“‘The seemingly interminable war was won,’” I read, eyes trained on my paper. “‘The prodigiously prolonged battle had finally permanently ended. At last, what they’d waited for all along, from the very beginning, had taken place. But all of this monumental effort, at what cost?’”
The class bursts into applause. I blush. I’d put a ton of effort into my history essay, making sure I accurately answered the prompt while sprucing up my sentences with a little flair.
Joe locks eyes with me, clapping louder than everyone else. My stomach flips. Most people only pretend to pay attention during presentations, but it seems like he actually listened. Did I impress him? Gah, I hope I did.
“Nice vocabulary, Sara,” Mr. Day says.
I’ll take the compliment.
As I sink back into my seat, Joe turns around and gives me a thumbs-up, grinning. My heart flutters. When I glance back to see if Patrick noticed, I find him glowering at the back of Joe’s head, shoulders slumped.
Uh, okay. What’s his deal?
“Mr. Day?” Rose stands, clasping her hands. “I have an announcement.”
Mr. Day checks the clock that hangs over the door. “We’ve only got five minutes left. The rest of you will read your essays next class.” He nods. “Go ahead, Rose.”
Rose takes two long steps to the front of the room, then turns to face us. She flips her hair over her shoulder and grins like she’s in a Crest commercial.
“Hi, everyone! As you may know, I’m the president of the Newspaper Club,” she begins.
“Because the school festival is happening next week, Mari and I”—she gestures to her best friend—“are looking for new members to join so we can document all the student experiences happening this year. We hope that by writing about all our organizations and activities, it’ll encourage more student participation! ”
Eagle Gate’s official student festival happens at the beginning of each school year, and it’s pretty fun.
Student-led organizations set up booths in the courtyard and chat with people who might be interested in joining a new club, activity, or sport.
If you want to join, there are sign-up sheets available.
I’d joined Tarot Club with Lulu freshman year before realizing it was more her thing, and I’ve always been interested in Poetry Club, but I’m too scared to put myself out there.
Showing others my writing—my feelings? Reading words evoked straight from my heart?
Sounds terrifying. I’d rather skydive. Instead, I stick to my blog and notebooks. That’s my safe space.
The festival isn’t all about clubs, though.
There’s a dunking booth to raise money for senior prom—students love seeing their favorite teacher get drenched—and a life-size chessboard you can play, hosted by Chess Club.
The Bake Club will offer sweet treats while a local restaurant caters light bites.
Plus, the school usually finds a band to perform live music.
Everyone goes and, if they’re lucky, finds a community where they feel like they belong.
“Who even reads the newspaper these days?” Patrick mumbles.
Rose shoots daggers at him, frowning.
“I used it the other day,” another student jeers, “for toilet paper!”
Uproarious laughter booms. Rose crosses her arms, as though waiting for this to die down. She’s fearless, I swear. If I were her, I’d want to melt into my seat until the bell rang.
“You guys are idiots,” Rose snaps. “And, Patrick, you don’t know what you’re talking about. People rely on us for the school news.”
“Who? Your mom?” Patrick says, louder this time.
Ugh, Patrick. Not a good move.
“That’s it.” Rose is fuming now. “Patrick, you’re banned from joining.”
“Oh no, please. Say it isn’t so,” he deadpans.
“Okay, class,” Mr. Day intervenes. “Let’s allow Rose to finish.”
“Thank you.” She straightens, hands smoothing her uniform skirt. The corners of her glossy lips perk into a smile. “Anyone aside from Patrick interested in joining?”
Silence. And then—
“I’ll join.”
Joe’s hand is in the air.
I immediately sit up straighter. Joe’s interested in newspaper? Does this mean he likes writing too? Maybe he does. He appreciated my essay, after all. We could have that in common.
From behind me, Patrick sighs.
“Great! Thanks, Joe.” Rose looks pleased with herself. She scans the rest of the room. “Anyone else?”
My heart accelerates like I’ve been given fresh batteries.
I’ve been too afraid to make a huge change this year, but I can’t stay stagnant.
I’ll never get my first kiss if I don’t put myself out there.
Joe seems kind. If I joined newspaper, I could get to know him better.
And Mr. Day just complimented my vocabulary, didn’t he?
Maybe this is a sign. My chance to try something new.
Besides, I love my blog. Newspaper involves writing a ton, so it’s a seamless transition. And! It’ll look excellent on my college applications, which will make Dad proud. It’s the perfect idea.
Is this my moment? It is, I decide. I must seize this opportunity!
I raise my hand, suddenly nervous. Oh geez, what am I doing?
“Okay so that’s Joe and”—Rose’s eyes land on me, then bounce away—“every single girl in the class.”
Wait, what?
I whirl around. Sure enough, we all have our hands raised high in the air.
How embarrassing. I lower mine, hoping Joe didn’t notice my acute eagerness. There’s a chance he didn’t since I’m right behind him, so that’s a relief. So much for putting myself out there.
“We can’t have every girl in class,” Rose continues. “That’s too many contributors.”
There’s a chorus of groans. Someone else says, “That’s not fair.”
Joe raises his hand again. All eyes zero on him. Including mine. I get a little daydreamy as I focus on him. Everyone at Eagle Gate wears the same uniform blazer, but he somehow pulls it off better than anyone.
“May I make a suggestion?” He clears his throat. “Maybe everyone could apply by submitting a sample essay. I think that could narrow it down.”
“Fantastic idea.” Rose beams. “Thank you, Joe.”
An essay. It makes sense—but Rose is president.
That means she’s in charge of reading these essays.
What if I work really hard on mine, pouring time and effort into every single sentence until it’s polished to perfection, and then she thinks it’s trash?
Worse than trash: seeping street sewage.
Would she make fun of me? Maybe even read it to the entire class?
Everyone, listen to this silly little essay Sara Lin submitted! It’s so tragic!
No, thank you. Newspaper Club isn’t worth all that humiliation.
I’ll just have to find another way to put myself out there this year.