Dirty Journalism

Jackie stood in front of Room 304 with a determined look on her face. Well, at least she was attempting to look determined. She was going to march right into the boys’ dorm and say to Max what needed to be said.

Jackie murmured under her breath, “Max, things have been too awkward. We both need to forget any of this ever happened. That party, the week alone, the whole Twister incident… just pretend it never happened. We hate each other. Bye.”

For the past week, things had been very uncomfortable. Jackie had been avoiding Max because she didn’t know how she felt anymore, and Max appeared to be doing something similar to her. However, they always ended up running into each other or being partnered up in a class. They were trying to be distant, but they just couldn’t stay away.

What scared Jackie the most? She liked it when she saw Max. She didn’t get a bizarre feeling in the pit of her stomach, the world didn’t stop, and angels didn’t start singing, but Jackie couldn’t help but feel a little happier whenever Max was near.

As Jackie had these thoughts one night, she suddenly realized the horrors of what she was thinking. She vowed to end it. So now she was standing before Max’s room, taking deep breaths and rewriting what she was going to say in her head for the hundredth time.

As she reached her hand out to knock, the door swung open to reveal Max. Jackie inwardly groaned as she realized how stupid she must look with one fist hanging loosely in the air.

Max smirked at her horrified expression. “Hey.”

“Hello!” Jackie said, her voice coming out much higher than she would have liked. She quickly dropped her arm.

“What’s up?” Max questioned, raising one eyebrow.

“Uh... can we talk?” Jackie asked hurriedly, not wanting to carry on a conversation in the hall. Max nodded and opened to the door for her to enter. Luckily, Jeffrey and Scooter weren’t in the room.

“Is this about my new commentary?” Max asked as he lounged in a beanbag chair. “Because I am completely within my right to express my dislike of all things southern. Especially in New York, where everyone agrees with me.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “You know I’m from Nashville.”

“I know,” Max said, grinning, “and that’s why I wrote it.”

Temporarily distracted, Jackie asked, “How many commentaries have you ever written just because you knew the subject would piss me off?”

“Most of them,” Max said instantly.

“Jackass.”

“To you, yes,” Max said, not bothering to argue. He moved his hands behind his head lazily. “But we’ve already established that. What did you want to say?”

“Uh…” Jackie began. She tried to look casual by leaning against Max’s nightstand behind her, but she ended up knocking off a textbook that had been on it. It fell to the ground with thud and a pen that had been resting in the spine rolled under Max’s bed.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Jackie said, crouching down to retrieve the lost pen. She laid on her stomach and stuck her head and arms under the bed. She saw the pen near the far wall that the bed was up against, and as she reached for it, her eyes landed on something peculiar. Words had been carved into the wall.

Michaela + Charlie 2001-forever. And directly underneath that, it read: To Michaela– I will love you forever. Love Charlie. July 24, 2002.

Jackie’s heart stopped for a moment. The pen forgotten, she simply stared at the words, transfixed.

“Uh, you okay down there?” Max’s voice came from above the bed.

Jackie barely heard him, and she didn’t move. Max suddenly popped his head underneath the bed with her, confused by her actions. He followed her mesmerized gaze to the words.

“Yeah, whoever was in this room before Jeffrey, Scooter, and I carved that. Uh… Jackie?” he said, looking back to her and waving a hand in front of her face. “Hello? What’s wrong?”

Jackie gasped suddenly and turned her face away from both Max and the wall. She hurriedly pushed herself out from under the bed. Max did the same, an utterly confused look on his face. “Jackie, what–” he began, but she had already wrenched open the door and fled from the room.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jackie slammed the door of her room shut and slid to the floor, holding her head in her hands. Luckily, neither Stella nor Lexi were there to question her bizarre behavior, because she didn’t want to explain. She couldn’t explain.

The Michaela whose words were carved into the wall was dead. She had died a little over six years ago, just before Jackie had come to James Academy. Jackie had been hiding all this time, unwilling to even think about it.

Michaela was her sister.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“It’s been a week. Someone needs to talk to her,” Scooter said.

Scooter, Lexi, Stella, Jeffrey, and Max were sitting around each other in the newspaper room. Their eyes rested on Jackie, who sat at her desk, silently staring at her computer screen.

“You don’t know how many times we’ve tried to talk to her,” Lexi responded sadly. “She won’t talk. And she’s been getting intense headaches all week.”

“Intense headaches?” Max questioned.

Stella nodded. “In our first year at James Academy, she took medication for migraines, which she got from stress. I mean, it was sixth grade, it’s not like our lives were that stressful, but she’d get migraines all the time anyway. The next year, she told us she didn’t need the medicine anymore. She’s been taking Advil like crazy this past week, though.”

Max frowned. “Has she been to the nurse?”

“She won’t go,” Lexi answered, shrugging. She narrowed her eyes. “You seem awfully concerned, Max.”

“Yeah, well,” Max said, rifling distractedly through some papers on his desk, “I can’t piss her off when she’s acting like a zombie.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Of course that would be your reason why.”

They all lapsed into silence and watched as Dina made her way up to Jackie’s desk. “Hey, Jacks!” she said brightly.

“Jacks?” Lexi muttered. “I don’t think she’ll like that.”

Jackie glanced at Dina, but her expression remained blank. “Yeah?”

“I had the greatest idea for an article!” Dina exclaimed. “I went ahead and wrote it. I know I didn’t run it by you or the sports editor first, but I was just too excited to write it, I couldn’t wait! Go on, read it!”

Jackie sighed and took the papers Dina was thrusting in her face. The five others watched as she quickly read the article, a frown forming on her face. She looked up. “Dina, it’s well-written. The issue of sports budgets is very relevant, too. But… you’re going to have to rewrite it. I mean, there’s subjectivity everywhere. Take out your opinions and you’ll have a great article.”

Dina’s bright smile vanished. “It’s not subjective,” she said firmly.

Jackie raised her eyebrows and pointed to a spot on the paper. “’The board unfairly lowered the tennis team’s budget this past summer,’” she read. “Unfairly. And that’s the easiest one to correct. The rest are pretty much pure opinion. You could pitch the idea to the commentary editor for our next issue, but otherwise…”

“I’m not rewriting this,” Dina stated, not accepting the paper as Jackie tried to hand it back to her.

Jackie shrugged and threw the paper in the garbage can by her desk. “Okay. Then it’s not being printed.”

Dina groaned loudly, catching the attention of almost everyone in the room. “You know, Jackie, sometimes I think you thrive on telling people how terrible their work is.”

Jackie, who had been rubbing her temples, stood up slowly. She said firmly, “Whatever I say has the newspaper’s best interests in mind. I’m not telling you you’re work is terrible. I’m telling you it’s too subjective for your section.”

Dina rolled her eyes. “You play favorites. You never reject anything Stella writes!”

Jackie raised her voice. “Because Stella has her own column! She can write about anything and be as subjective as she wants!”

“You don’t play fair!” Dina threw back at her.

“I don’t have time for this!” Jackie shouted. “Don’t you think there are more important things to worry about, Dina? Don’t you think you’re being a little bit… I don’t know… ridiculous, stupid, and petty?”

Dina shook her head. “I’m not. I’m just trying to be a good reporter. Maybe if my editor wasn’t such a self-righteous bitch, I’d be able to.”

She turned on her heel and walked back to her desk. Jackie took a deep breath and plopped back into her seat, massaging her temples once again.

“Well I’m sure that helped the headache,” Scooter commented, trying to lighten the mood.

“Shut up, dude,” Max said as Stella and Lexi made their way to Jackie. He added to himself, “I wish I knew what was wrong with her.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the next chapter of Dirty Journalism…

”Good morning, students. I have some excellent news for the staff of The James Journal.”
-
-
”Come dance with me!”
-
-
“Why don’t you show me how it’s done?”