28. Hildy #3
Hildy tuned her out. Why should she be ashamed?
This was about to be adrenaline central.
The program was always structured as a competition, and Hildy knew they worked in teams, but beyond that the curriculum varied every year.
They could be asked to produce cutting-edge digital media or dig through old records on a cold case.
Whatever it turned out to be, she was ready.
She hoped.
The woman who’d dropped off the papers joined a shorter man in a wrinkled button-down at the front of the room, crossing her arms as he gave the welcome speech. When he stepped aside, she took his place at the podium.
“Each of you has a copy of today’s morning paper,” she said.
“Your assignment is to choose one item from any page and write a long-form follow-up. We’re looking for insight, originality, and depth.
Do not regurgitate what’s already there.
” Lowering her reading glasses, she speared them with a warning look before continuing.
“You’ll be working in groups of at least two, because this is a collaborative business. Your deadline is five PM Thursday, but I suggest you meet with the copydesk and design department well before that. Faculty will be available for consultation.” She glanced at her watch. “Your time starts now.”
The rustle of newsprint filled the room. It sounded like a wind machine had been switched on. Hildy understood why people were flicking through the pages like their lives depended on it. They wanted to find the juiciest material and claim it first.
But this wasn’t a speed-reading contest, and Hildy didn’t intend to go the obvious route by choosing a crime or a scandal. The smarter play would be finding a nugget of gold in an unexpected place—something everyone else had overlooked. She took a deep breath before diving in.
The first group was out the door by the time she got past the A section.
“Hildy?” Walter’s voice wobbled a little, like he was trying not to sound nervous.
“Don’t worry,” she told him, without looking up.
“Did you see the piece about someone illegally dumping cooking oil in the retention pond?”
She hmmed an affirmative.
“We could try to track down the fast-food bandit?”
“I like that,” Corinne said. “Who is the Fry Guy? Or girl. We could make it pulpy. Put people at the scene. Midnight. The Arby’s parking lot. Rusty water drips onto the stained pavement. You know?”
“Give me a minute.” Hildy turned to Sports. Not her first choice, but you had to keep an open mind.
Another group left, chattering about finding someone with a boat. Corinne made an exasperated noise.
“Dude, everybody is going.” It was clear she was talking to Walter, and Walter only. “We should see if we can join those guys. Drugs! Smuggling! Gators! That’s real news.”
Hildy was on the last section of the paper, a few thin pages away from the classifieds.
She split her focus between Community News and the conversation unfolding between Walter and Corinne.
If he ditched Hildy now, she’d have no choice but to fall in with another group, where she’d be at the bottom of the pecking order.
They’d probably have her ordering lunch and checking facts.
Her finger stilled near the bottom of the page while she waited for Walter’s response.
“I’m sticking with Hildy,” he said.
“Good luck with that. Wait up,” Corinne called after a departing group, not wasting another second on either of them.
“Thank you,” Hildy said. They were the last two left. “You won’t regret it.”
She slid the newspaper over to him, tapping the relevant text.
“It’s a wedding announcement.” The frown was audible in his voice. Was Walter being a snob because a wedding was too froufrou and feminine to be worth reporting on? If he turned out to be a closet misogynist, this partnership was going to be over before it started.
“And?” Hildy prompted. “Did you read it?”
“‘So-and-so and so-and-so, together with their families, are delighted to announce their wedding, which will take place at Disnée World’—” He looked up from his read-aloud. “D-I-S-N-é-E? With an accent? Is that a typo?”
“Keep going,” Hildy urged.
“‘Disnée World,’” he repeated, “‘located in the fifth-floor cafeteria at First Presbyterian Hospital.’ Huh.” His frown was different now, more intrigued than worried.
“‘After the ceremony, Carlee will complete her residency in oncology and Carlton’ … Is it not weird that their names are Carlton and Carlee?”
“You’re burying the lede.” She flicked her fingers at him to go on.
“‘And Carlton will continue treatment for kidney cancer.’” His eyes met Hildy’s. “Shit. Do you think that’s how they met?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
Walter glanced at the story again. “It’s happening this afternoon.”
“Yep. Let’s get cracking.” Hildy tucked the folded newspaper under her arm before grabbing her bag and starting for the door. Walter hurried to catch up.
“We’re crashing a wedding?” he asked, pitching his voice low.
“No, we’re going to insinuate ourselves into a wedding reception,” she corrected. “With our charisma and charm.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Hildy’s mouth froze in an O of surprise, which she tried to play off with a hair toss. “Why, thank you.”