Chapter 7
The drive to school this morning gave me enough time to formulate a plan for the day. Well, a plan and a list of rules.
Rules:
Do not engage in banter with Ben. It doesn’t matter how funny and witty he is, or how good his hair looks. Do not engage.
Avoid conflict with Lisa. Focus on getting an article picked for the first edition of the paper.
Keep your head down and get the education you came for.
A simple set of rules to reset my focus and make sure I don’t get off track. I’ll apply the first pancake theory to yesterday. Of course, my first day was bound to have a funky shape. So, toss it out and make today better. To start, accept that I don’t need all the books in the world in my backpack. I can get by with my notebooks, laptop, and Kindle. If I have the locker, I should use it. This way, Ben can’t find any reason to “have to” carry my bag.
It’s getting close to time for my first class and no sight of Ben in the hall. Looking around there’s nothing but rows of blue lockers and students shuffling around the hall. There seems to be more traffic than yesterday, but that may just be because I was distracted. I did manage to print a campus map out and mark the location and best routes to all my classes. Pulling it out of my bag and closing my locker I locate my route. I even put a star on the location of my locker. The Journalism room is off the English wing and shouldn’t be too hard to find on my own.
I end up finding the classroom easily. Peeking in the doorway, to my surprise Ben is sitting at a table near the front of the room on a laptop. Behind him, Lisa is staring daggers into the back of his head with Kate or Bella next to her. I’m not sure which one. Hesitating and taking a breath, I enter the room.
The setup reminds me of the circulation room at the Gazette. Six large tables in the middle of the room with laptop plug-in stations. A wall of computers next to the door. On the opposite side, there are large glass windows looking out onto a small courtyard. The back of the room holds a large machine, which I assume is used for printing. Anticipation buzzes at my fingers. Despite my initial nerves. This is home. The smell of ink in the air electrifies my senses.
Ben’s face looks up from his laptop as I walk deeper into the room; he smiles. Rules, Amelia, you have rules. I nod my head, politely smile back then sit at the table opposite the side of the room but aligned with his. I’m not risking getting close to Lisa. I am not afraid; I just want to avoid any confrontation. It’s not the same thing. I have rules, remember.
With my back now to Ben, Lisa, and unidentified twin, I take out my supplies. I managed to draft two articles last night, so I power my laptop on and get them pulled up and ready. Based on my research of the paper, the back-to-school edition always includes a spotlight section for featured articles. I want one of those spots. Movement next to me causes my attention to shift, I turn in the direction to see Ben. He’s not impressed. Setting a coffee holder on the table with two cups in it and resting one hand on the table, he leans over me, invading my space. Rules, Rules, Rules! My god he smells good. Like coffee and cologne. Not the cheap body spray that haunts the halls of Wilcocks, but something different. Expensive. Musky. Leather mixed with citrus, then combined with the coffee, it should disgust me, however… NO, Amelia. Rules!
“Good morning, Amelia. Did you not like the seats I picked for us? I got here early for them.” His voice is huskier than usual. Is he messing with me?
“Good morning, you didn’t have to save me a seat,” I have to force the politeness, so it doesn’t come off as rude or flirty. “I’m sure that you probably have friends you want to sit with. I’ll be okay.”
He isn’t having it. He sits down right next to me and hands me a cup of coffee. I take it on instinct despite the fact that I already drank a cup on the way here. I know. I know. Coffee stunts your growth, but it’s too late for me. “Thank you,” I stare into his eyes, a big mistake. The blue from yesterday is a stormy gray today.
“Now what kind of a mentor would I be if I left you alone,” he smirks at me as I sip the coffee. It’s the perfect ratio of cream and sugar. I hold back a moan. His voice drops to more of a whisper, “Besides, I heard Lisa is homicidal after the last seat of the class was snatched up.”
This is not news to me; from her accosting me yesterday, I already knew today might end up a hot mess. “I think I got that memo yesterday.” Then it hits me. “Hey, why didn’t you tell me we have Journalism together?”
He sips his coffee and shrugs his shoulders, “Didn’t come up?” He isn’t wrong. I didn’t exactly ask for his life story. Out loud anyway.
“Do we have any other classes together?” I should be prepared if I’m going to have to spend all day with him. I need to formulate some new rules.
“Anatomy and Golf” he shrugs.
“So, everything but calculus.” I raise a brow at him. The one class I might actually need help in. “I thought you were a year ahead of me.”
“I never said that.” He responds nonchalantly.
“I just assumed because you were my mentor you would be older.” It would make sense.
“Not how it works, Dorothy,” the “We aren’t in Kansas anymore”, goes without saying. I turn back to my computer as more students file in the room. Finally, the teacher walks in.
Mr. Bannerman is short and stout. My theory that all the teachers in the school are recruited from a modeling agency is immediately dismantled. He looks like a cartoon character from a newspaper office. He even has the stereotypical mustache. I half expect him to pull a cigar out at any moment.
When he opens his mouth, it doesn’t get better. With a thick Boston accent, he addresses the class. “Welcome back, everyone. I trust you all had productive summers full of internships, travels, and a limited number of shenanigans.” I have to hide the smile that threatens to bloom. In the corner of my eye, I see Ben watching my reaction. I fix my face. He continues, “I see we have some new faces this year.” My face floods with heat. Please don’t introduce me, please don’t introduce me. Please don’t be that guy. “I want to welcome Amelia Roberts to our staff. She comes to us from the small town of Windy Creek. We are happy to have you with us. I enjoyed your article recently published in City News about how social media is a sleight of hand distraction from current events. Insightful stuff.”
I have to clear my voice, “Thank you, sir.” I leave out the last part thanking him for putting a big target on my back.
He continues, “Mr. Blake, welcome to our ranks as well. I look forward to seeing what you have to offer us this year.”
I momentarily pause my own mortification. Was Ben not in journalism before? I turn to look at him, but his eyes are trained forward. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Bannerman. I look forward to being on staff.”
Mr. Bannerman continues to spit out a few more introductions, but the questions are turning in my mind. In the span of 1 minute, I have run several interviews with Ben in my mind, none of which explain why he is in this class, other than me. Which is crazy. Why would he take a class for a girl he met yesterday? It has to be a coincidence. Right?
There’s no ceremonial passing of the syllabus. No lecture. As it turns out, the class is already an established unit. Mr. Bannerman gave a few simple instructions, then the room shifts into action. People align themselves into stations and begin working. I feel lost and don’t know where to go. I look to Ben for guidance, but he is relaxed in his seat looking unbothered.
“Roberts, Blake, come here!” Bannerman’s voice stirs me out of my panic, and I cross the room quickly. Ben follows me in a comfortable stride. Curse his long legs. Must be nice.
“Sir,” I address Mr. Bannerman.
“Here is the deal, most of the staff have established positions. We assigned beats at the end of last school year and won’t reevaluate until after the first edition is published.” My heart sinks. If everything is assigned, what am I even doing here? “Fortunately, for you Ben, our sportswriter, Peterson dropped the class at the last minute. I take it you can handle writing up a piece covering summer sports and what is upcoming in the fall. Highlight some of the senior athletes?”
“Actually, sir, Amelia has been dying to cover sports. She was telling me before class how she can’t wait to get into the press box.” Has he lost his mind?
“No, I—” I begin to protest, then Ben starts laughing.
“Keep your jokes to yourself, son.” Bannerman scolds.
“Sorry sir. Had to.” he straightens. “I can cover sports no problem. I assume I’ll be sharing the beat with James?” Again, how is he this comfortable with teachers?
“You assume correct, get to work.” Ben scurries off, leaving me alone and with no support. Some mentor he is.
“Now, Miss Roberts, you are a rarity. The recruiting efforts are newly formed and didn’t align with the creation of new spots on staff,” he says matter-of-factly. “However, I meant what I said about your writing. I’ve also spoken with the editor of your local paper, and he assures me that you are a prodigy. Combine that with your talent, I’m giving you features. You’ll have to share the space with some of our other talented writers, but I trust you’ll have no struggles.”
“Thank you, sir.” What else am I supposed to say? “I’ve actually already prepared a couple of articles for the first edition.”
“Living up to your reputation already,” he nods, “very good. Go ahead and take a table and finish off editing your pieces. Have three options ready to submit by the end of class.”
“Right away.” I move back to my laptop.
“Oh, and I’ll send a student over in a bit to show you around the circulation area and get you familiarized with the space.” Please don’t be Lisa.
“Thank you.” Once I resettle in my seat, I attempt to immerse myself in my articles, but I can’t help but steal a glance at the room. To my dismay, Mr. Bannerman makes his way over to Lisa and the unidentified twins’ table. As he talks with his back to me, I see her nod then scowl. She looks in my direction, murder in her eyes. Twin says something, and she turns to her, shocked, and shakes her head. I look away, hoping my assumptions are wrong and pour myself into my first article. It’s a piece detailing the new recruiting initiative. Spot-on, but I’m hoping as a recruit I can offer a fresh perspective that the otherwise entitled student may not have. Go big or go home. Hopefully the former.
I manage to successfully shut out the world for a full 30 minutes before I feel a presence rather than see it.
I look up to see the unidentified twin standing in front of me with an amused look on her face. “Hi, I don’t think we got to formally meet yesterday. I’m Kate.”
“Amelia,” I let out unsurely.
“I know.” She smiles. “Mr. Bannerman asked me to show you around. Actually, he asked Lisa, but I thought letting her implode on our first day back in circulation would be bad for her skin.”
“Okay, thanks, I guess.”
“No problem, Bedilia, let’s get started. Up, up.” She actually claps her hands at me. I would have a smart retort if I didn’t want to get this over. She is, after all, the lesser of all evil at this point. Standing, I can’t let it fully go. “It’s Amelia.”
“I know, Amelia Bedilia. Now come on.” I stare at her aghast. She is elegantly pretty and has a relaxed posture while still carrying herself with confidence.
“Right, where do we start?” I straighten myself.
Apparently, her confidence is earned. She knows the layout and mechanisms of the paper intricately. As we move around the room, the other students stop their work to regard her. It isn’t the same reaction Lisa has. With Lisa, the other students wince out of her way. Kate smiles and is… friendly. It makes me wonder how she is friends with someone as entitled as Lisa. Despite my fading disdain for her by association, I remind myself she is still the competition. I can’t let my guard down.
After we complete a lap around the room, we end up back at my original table. Before I can return to my chair, Kate grabs my arm, looks around, and then whispers, “One more thing. What’s the deal with you and Ben?”
I look over her shoulder in his direction at the table. He has headphones in and is completely plugged into his laptop. What is the deal with Ben?
“He’s my mentor.” It is the only fact I’m sure of. “Why?”
“I’ve known him since kindergarten, and I have never seen him go out of his way for a girl before. He’s more of a whatever falls into his lap kind of a guy. Then he takes the last spot in the class and warns Lisa to back off you. That doesn’t really scream, mentor only.” He did what!?! I knew it was strange he didn’t mention being in any of my classes yesterday. What the hell. Of course, my stupid face displays every thought for Kate to read. “I take it you didn’t know that. Really interesting.”
“Nothing of interest here.” There has to be a rational answer. “I’m sure he’s just being a good mentor. I mentioned the conversation from the lunchroom. That must be it.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it. New girl thing aside, you don’t seem naive to me.” She checks her surroundings again before continuing. “Listen, I don’t share Lisa’s contentment for opening the school up. I don’t want anyone to fail here. I’ll deny it if you repeat that. However, I should warn you, Ben doesn’t have a good track record here. He almost got kicked out last year, but his dad made some sort of deal with the headmaster. Just be careful.” The warning is sincere. I had already figured getting involved with Ben would be nothing but a distraction, but this is all the information I need to solidify my decision.
“Thanks for the concern, but it isn’t needed. He is just my mentor.” She shrugs and walks off.
Now I just have to calculate my next move. Not wanting to give up any more time working on my article, I put a pin in the Ben thing. For now. I fully plan to confront him, but now is not the time.