Chapter 32
DIANA
Jonathan and Sophia’s scheming have taken away too much from me and I won’t let them take away the Howler, too.
Not without a fight.
I storm into DHU’s School of Journalism first thing on Monday morning.
“I have a meeting with Benedict Vanderkoff.”
His assistant leaps out of her chair upon seeing me. She clumsily fixes the glasses on her face before nodding. “Uh, y-yes, of course! Right this way.”
I follow her down a pristine brown hallway.
When I calmed down about the email, I went straight towards crisis handling and demanded a meeting with the chair of the board.
I’ve known and worked with Benedict Vanderkoff in the past. We don’t go out for coffee, but we tolerate each other enough that I’m slightly hopeful Benedict might reconsider dismissing me as editor-in-chief once he hears what I have to say about it.
The board never told me they were planning to dismiss me. I should’ve had time to be notified and do what I could to keep my position. There had to be some leeway.
“I’m afraid there’s not much we can do.”
But Benedict was unswayable no matter how much I pleaded my case.
For a five-footed man, he dominates the office with the shamelessness of someone who doesn’t care about standing out.
His dark brown hair is always slicked back, and I’ve never seen him in anything except those vintage sweater vests.
Even though Benedict is the chair of the board, I always had a feeling he was elected because he’s easy to persuade compared to his competitors.
I’m positive the board and the contributors persuaded him to oust me despite what’s been done in the past.
My fingers dig into the armrests of my chair. “In my second year, I remember when Felix Russo was exposed for faking sources and sleeping with a few of them to get information for his stories. You just gave him a week off and then he kept running the Howler as normal when he returned.”
Benedict sighs and twiddles with his ballpoint pen. “There was a labor strike on campus. We needed a leader in the newsroom.”
“You could’ve had the managing editor take his place temporarily,” I point out. “It would’ve worked because it was the last couple weeks of the winter term, anyways. There was no reason to keep Felix.”
Benedict cocks his head. “What exactly are you accusing us of, Diana?”
I’m accusing you of treating me differently because I’m not Felix Russo. He broke a major ethic as a reporter. What I did wasn’t even related to reporting or how I run the Howler, and yet my punishment is so much worse.
But uttering all of that is a waste of time because the response is always the same every time we point out their prejudice and their bias.
We are dedicated to uplifting all ethnicities, genders, and members of marginalized communities.
I’m not na?ve to the fact that the board appointed me just so I can be a token of their commitment to diversity and inclusivity.
But here’s the thing about being a token: You’re a puppet on a string and they can cut you down the second you’re not playing the part they want you to.
I can tell that bringing up Felix Russo rattles some sense into Benedict’s brain. He softens and abandons his media-trained answers to genuinely talk to me.
“Look, you’re a talented news leader with a shrewd eye, Diana. With everything that went down, you had to have seen this coming.”
Andrea’s takeover at the fundraiser.
What I assumed was her petty need to feel self-righteous was actually a subtle ploy to oust me this whole time.
“I was focused on trying to figure out how to keep the Howler running as usual without our normal numbers,” I explain. “You can understand how being potentially dismissed wasn’t on my mind.”
“And we’re thankful for your work, but we have to act on the best interests of the board and the regular contributors. They’re all disturbed and shaken by what came to light recently.”
They, as in Andrea. I know she was the one behind this. Nearly half of her friends are regular contributors, and they resented me when the majority of the newsroom appointed me as editor-in-chief last April.
My voice struggles through the frustration tearing me apart. “Look, I…I know this scandal puts me in a bad light. But Benedict, I swear, everything just got—”
“Completely blown out of proportion?” He sighs and rolls his eyes. “That’s been your response this whole time and still…” He shrugs. “We have no evidence of that.”
Don’t do it, Diana. It’s too risky.
Except if there’s a small chance of clearing my name, I have to take it. My family already thinks I’m sulking, I’m happy to pretend to do so to throw them off guard. But I won’t let losing the Howler be for real.
“What if I did have evidence?”
Benedict leans back in his chair. He stares back at me with his hands steepled together.
“Go on.”
“I’ve been working to provide some context as to what really happened. It’s more complicated than people think, which is why I’ll need some time.” I swallow hard, bracing myself for the next words. “I’d like to make a deal.”
Benedict’s eyes narrow at me. “Let’s hear it.”
I straighten in my chair, refusing to back down from his gaze.
“Hire an interim editor-in-chief who will take over the Howler temporarily. In the meantime, I will gather what I need to prove that everything truly did get blown out of proportion. If the evidence isn’t sufficient, I will gladly walk away.
If it is, you let me lead the Howler until the end of the winter term as promised. ”
Benedict considers the deal for a moment. The clock on his desk ticks louder. The jut of his knee jostles more rapidly. Then he unclicks his pen.
“Fine.”
Hope darts through my chest, easing the panic ever so slightly.
“Okay.” I nod. “I can do that. Thank you. How long do I have?”
“Two weeks.”
“Oh.”
Benedict shrugs. “That’s all the time I can give you.
You’re already treading on tricky waters since the decision was supposed to be final.
But…” He winces. “I worked with you in Lisa’s audio journalism class last year, and my VOI would’ve gone to shit if you didn’t help out. So, I guess I kind of owe you one.”
Benedict groans as he reaches over his desk to grab a sticky note. He scribbles something down on it. “Look, I have a meeting with the board in an hour. I’ll raise the proposal you made and get back to you. Sound good?”
Convincing Benedict is one thing, but the whole board has to agree on it. If they don’t, all my chances of getting my position back go down the drain.
My smile comes out strained. “Better than nothing.”
I walk out of the Richfield building and veer down to the tunnels with a cold dread snaking through me.
I can just hear bàba and māma reprimanding me about being dismissed as editor-in-chief.
I can see my siblings smile at me getting torn apart.
However, if the board agrees to my deal, I’ll have fourteen days to prove that I didn’t leak those photos and texts.
I step into the quiet darkness of the tunnels where nothing whispers and nothing stares. All I can take in are the thoughts swarming my head, and they rage louder than ever.
What if this is a horrible idea? I’m acting on the hopes that CatchCo will get back to me on time, and who knows if it will work?
Jonathan might’ve done something different to cover up his tracks.
It’ll take time to even access the people he’s resourced to help him expose Gregory’s relationship and pin it on me.
I draw in a deep breath. I’ve worked hard to keep everything I’ve earned and everything I’ve been given. I won’t give up now. I can’t.
Still, I can’t shake off the fear gripping my heart when I refresh my email and find no response to my request.