Chapter 15
DIANA
I’ve made up with Kai.
Now that we’ve called a truce, we can work together to finish Mellonbaum’s project and get an A with zero bloodshed.
Panic rises at the thought, stifling my relief because calling a truce also means I can’t keep Kai at arm’s length like I used to.
I rub my forehead, fighting to forget the softness in his smile or the slight rasp in his voice when he’s annoyed.
I don’t know how I’m going to pretend Kai doesn’t affect me when every part of me awakens for him.
“As you all know, yellow journalism was a style of reporting that published sensationalism over facts.” Adrian Howard, the media ethics professor, strides around the lecture podium with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“I probably shouldn’t say ‘was,’ because yellow journalism is still alive and well today. ”
He pauses at the podium. “Your work has power and consequences. Knowing that, what should journalists do to ensure they don’t fall into the shiny trap of sensationalism?”
I straighten up in my seat and raise my hand.
Adrian nods at me. “Go ahead, Diana.”
“I think a good place to start is to reinforce how we regard the purpose of news stories,” I answer. “We have to remember that we’re here to inform. Not entertain.”
Adrian taps his chin and nods. “That’s a solid start. But what happens if the journalist is thinking, ‘Well, by informing the public with this compelling story, it can be fodder for fame and recognition?’”
“Then you’re in the wrong profession.”
Andrea Whitney’s voice speaks out from the opposite side of the room. She glares at me, looking surprisingly spiteful in a simple crewneck sweater and a claw clip binding her blonde hair.
Andrea Whitney and I have been disagreeing with each other since first year.
She wrangles every opportunity she can to pit herself against me.
Last April was the boiling point. During the Howler’s editor-in-chief vote, she was so convinced she would win that she packed the office with her things.
She hated me even more when my name was called out instead, and my things replaced hers in the office.
Since then, the tensions between us have only gotten worse.
“Well, actually, I wouldn’t write them off so easily,” I counter.
“Journalists, regardless of the standards they’re responsible for upholding, are still flawed humans whose motives can be influenced and corrupted.
We should be finding ways to help journalists rein in their egotism and remember why they’re here. ”
Andrea rolls her eyes. “I don’t think we should be excusing journalists to chase sensationalism just because they’re human.”
“I’m not excusing it. I’m simply acknowledging it happens even to the most renowned reporters,” I reason.
“There are ways we can help prevent it from happening, though. In the newsrooms, ask your reporters why they chased this story. It makes them confront their rationale and their motives. As an editor, you can see it in their response if they’re chasing a story out of necessity, passion, or vanity. ”
“Interesting take,” Adrian muses. “Anything you want to add, Andrea?”
Andrea’s nostrils flare. She rips her attention off me and crosses her arms. “No, I don’t.”
Her anger doesn’t relent. Not even when we’re walking out of class.
“Hey!”
I sigh, halting in my steps.
Andrea’s eyes narrow. “What was that dig you made at me in class?”
“I wasn’t digging,” I insist. “We were having a conversation.”
“It just seemed like you were attacking me about my take on sensationalism.”
“I disagreed with you. I wasn’t attacking you.”
“I seriously doubt that. After all, why wouldn’t you when you have all the clout and backup in the world?”
That was another reason why she hated me.
I had the privilege of coming from a family of journalists.
That gives you resources others from humble backgrounds don’t have, and Andrea never lets me forget the shiny spoon in my mouth, no matter how much I acknowledge it.
But she’s just as talented and well-off.
Before she cheated on him, she and Kai were the star couple in first year, and she won the Governor General’s Award for freshman reporting.
She can go as far as she wants if she stops giving in to the insistent need to have the best new phone, the best new purse, the best new boy.
I groan. “Andrea, it’s been a long day. If you have complaints about my style of communicating, feel free to drop them in the mailbox in my office. I’m sure you’re familiar with where it is?”
Her mouth parts, cheeks flushing red. I take that opportunity to walk away and veer towards the orange tunnels.
The closer I get to those bright doors, the more my conversation with Andrea fades into the back of my head.
My heart flutters under my chest, knowing Kai is waiting for me behind those doors.
Kai. The boy I’ve been daydreaming about for the last three years.
He’s there waiting for me.
But the giddiness dies the moment my hands brace around the handles.
There’s a reason why we’re walking down here in the first place.
It’s because of who I am and what bàba would do if he saw me with Kai.
I’m not going to let anything happen to him.
Kai has worked too hard to keep his place on the Griffins, and I’m not going to come in between that no matter how he makes me feel.
Even without bàba’s interference, the idea of us is impossible.
As irritating as she is, Kai belongs with blonde bombshells like Andrea.
Not you.
You will never be his and he will never be yours.
I open the door. The AC vanishes under the hot tunnel air that sinks into my skin as I walk in.
The lamp sconces glow with orange light.
They flicker and pulse against the walls, illuminating Kai, who leans against it with his backpack slung over his shoulder.
There’s a playful flicker in his eyes when he looks at me.
So boyish, so at ease compared to the ruthless player tearing through the ice earlier.
“You were pretty clear about being punctual, princess,” he drawls. “Now look who’s the late one.”
I roll my eyes playfully. “And? Are you going to punish me for being tardy?”
“You brought me coffee and a cookie today, so I guess I’ll let it slide.”
Even in the dank heat, I still smell the fresh pinewood drifting from Kai’s jacket. I gulp, all of me instinctively wanting to lean in closer.
Kai frowns, unhitching from the wall. “You okay?”
“Yeah!” I gulp. “I-I am.”
Kai softens. “Diana, people hardly come through here. Even if they do, they’re too caffeinated and depressed to pay attention to who they pass by. I promise.”
I peek around at the tunnel. Shapes occasionally flit across our shadows. “Are you sure?”
“Unless the seagulls of Vancouver suddenly figured out how to use a camera, I swear there’s zero chance of being photographed here.” Kai holds out his hand. He’s utterly patient and gentle as he says, “You can hold my hand if you want. It’s a little dark down here.”
I falter, my body feeling a little more at ease. I’m not supposed to reach for Kai. It’s against everything I swear I wouldn’t give in to. But at the same time…it’s so endearing that I can’t say no.
It’s just this once.
My hand reaches for his. The nerves firing inside me quiet down when Kai’s strong, calloused hand wraps around mine. His throat bobs, yet his smile is soft and assuring as he leads me down the tunnel.