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I reopened my notebook and took a few seconds to get some things in my head that I thought were good enough to share. Then I cleared my throat. I heard my voice crack a few times, but you can't blame me. “I think that the local stories are really important,” I said. “Especially the coverage of the schools and the sports teams, because that's the stuff we read, and I know those are the articles my mom reads too. We also rely on the newspaper to keep us up to speed on things that will affect us, like the school budgets or the new curfew at the park.” In my wildest dreams I had never imagined that an entire table of journalists would be opening their notebooks to take notes about the things that I was saying! Incredible!

All the journalists looked friendly and a lot were nodding.

“Thank you!” said Mr. Swopes.

When the meeting had ended, everyone came over to me to shake my hand and wish me luck in the future. Lauren Fields was about to walk me down to the lobby when Mr. Swopes called out to her.

“Ms. Fields, Ms. Martone, may I interrupt for a minute?” he asked.

“Of course,” Ms. Fields replied.

“Harry was telling me that you had an idea for the story about the Cherry Valley cougar,” Mr. Swopes explained. “I'd love to hear your take on the story, and I'd like to get it wrapped up as soon as possible.”

“I haven't fully fleshed out the story yet,” Ms. Fields began, “but I thought I would write about the hyper-competitive nature of school sports these days and about how the crazed approach to competition led to the statue being vandalized.”

“Interesting,” Mr. Swopes said. “Do you have any evidence to prove that theory?”

“I've gathered quotes from players, fans, and parents about the increased pressure to compete,” Ms. Fields replied.

“I'm not doubting that part of it,” Mr. Swopes answered. “I'm just wondering how exactly you know that it led to the vandalism. Considering the police don't have a suspect yet. Or do you
know something that I don't?”

“No, I don't,” Ms. Fields admitted. “I'm no closer to knowing who did it than Sam is.”

“Oh, Ms. Martone, do you have a lead on the story?” Mr. Swopes asked.

“Not one,” I said honestly.

“Then I think you need to find a new angle, Ms. Fields,” he declared. “Until we know who was responsible for the statue, that angle is pure speculation.

“Ms. Fields, sometimes a news story is just a news story,” he continued. “No need to add drama to make it seem more interesting when it is already interesting at its core.”

“I understand,” Lauren Fields acknowledged. “I'll write a draft of the news story and get it to Harry right away.”

“I look forward to reading it,” Mr. Swopes said before walking away.

I couldn't believe Lauren Fields had gotten shot down like that, with me standing next to her, no less.

“If it makes you feel any better,” I said, “I
thought your angle was a really good one.”

“Me too.” Ms. Fields laughed. “Seriously, though, he's right. Sticking to the simple approach may not seem like the most creative way to tell a story, but there are some stories that are just better when you let the facts tell them. They're the ones that usually lead to the investigative stories. Not every story can be a big dramatic one.”

“Can you give me a minute while I write that down in my notebook?” I said. “That's an important lesson.”

Ms. Fields and I chatted during the elevator ride down to the lobby. I went to shake her hand good-bye, but she gave me a big hug instead.

“Say hello to that cutie Michael Lawrence for me,” she said as I walked toward Mom's car. “I hope things are working out better between you guys.”

“Thanks!” I yelled back. “Me too!”

Mom definitely had her listening ears on during the car ride home. I couldn't stop talking about everything that had happened in my visit to the
Gazette
. It was by far the most exciting day of my journalism career—maybe even my entire life!

Later I thought about Mr. Swopes's advice to Ms. Fields as I typed an e-mail to Michael.

Michael,

Forget about the curses and stuff. I think we should take a straight news approach to the cougar story. What do you think? We could work on it together at the fund-raiser tomorrow.

—Sam

I thought Michael might be busy with the guys from the football team, getting ready for the big car wash, but he was obviously not too busy to reply right away. This made me even happier than I already was, which was pretty ecstatic to begin with. What's happier than ecstatic? Jubilant? Euphoric? Elated?

Hey, Pasty,

Sounds like a good plan. You can come to my house after the fund-raiser. My mom will drive us.

—Michael

I was all set to flop onto my bed and rewind on the day's events, playing them like a movie in my mind. Then I remembered—Dear Know-It-All! I still had that column to write too.

I logged on to my e-mail and clicked through letter after letter about the Cougar Curse. Then I saw one that didn't mention the curse at all.

Dear Know-It-All,

If I know one of my friends did something wrong, how
do I handle it without feeling like a traitor? Should I tell someone? Do I keep my mouth shut? It was pretty bad, and I know he's sorry for what he did. He's just too afraid to tell anyone. I'm more twisted than a roller coaster.

Please help.

—Guilty Conscience

Whoa! That was heavier than I was expecting. I wondered if whoever wrote the letter knew who broke Mr. Cougar. This could be important. I opened a new file and started to type.

Dear Guilty,

Of course you should tell someone about what happened. You shouldn't even question it. If what your friend did was wrong, he or she needs to stand up and face the consequences.

—Dear Know-It-All

The doorbell rang, so I hit save and quickly closed the file. I didn't want anyone snooping around and finding out that I was Dear Know-It-All.
Hailey was coming over to make dream bars for the bake sale, and as hard as it was, I couldn't even let my best friend know about that assignment.

I was a little worried that we wouldn't have any dream bars left to sell. It seemed like Hailey was chowing down on them as fast as we could take them out of the oven. But even Hailey had her dream bar limit—eight, totally gross—so we wrapped up the rest of them and went to bed. Not to sleep, of course. Allie needed some payback for the squealfest she threw with her friends, so Hailey and I made sure to scream our loudest right in the direction of Allie's room as we watched not-so-scary movies that night.

When Mom pulled up at the school parking lot the next morning, there was already a line ten cars long waiting to be washed. And we were an hour early! Hailey and I ran to the bake-sale stand while Mom and Allie waited in the car.

The dream bars sold out in less than twenty minutes. It seemed like every parent at Cherry Valley
and their friend pulled their car into the parking lot that morning. It was definitely worth the price of the car wash to see Mr. Pfeiffer in gym shorts and a T-shirt, totally soaked from head to toe. I wondered if Jeff Perry, the photo editor, had gotten a photo of that—who was I kidding? He probably had a whole camera full.

I was in the middle of selling half a cherry pie to Jenna and her dad when I saw Hailey waving frantically in my direction and pointing. I looked in that direction and saw that Danny Stratham was walking toward me. Yikes!

He waved at me and smiled. I could definitely see where he got the ladies' man reputation and why so many girls liked him.

“Samantha Martone, fancy meeting you here,” he said, grinning.

“I go to school here, Danny, and you know it,” I said, trying not to grin. “What's your excuse?”

“The guys from West Hills felt bad for the Cougars,” he explained. “We like the competition. It's no fun to play against teams that are easy to beat.

“We talked some of our parents into getting their cars washed here,” he added. “And I'm here to check out the snacks.”

“And the girls?” Hailey coughed behind me.

“Oh, just one girl in particular,” Danny said, winking at me.

I tried to ignore the wink.

“There's not many snacks left, so if you want something, you'd better choose now,” I said matter-of-factly.

Just then, a soaking-wet Michael Lawrence came sloshing over to the booth. “The guys on the team are going to be hungry after this is done, Sam,” he said. “So you'd better save some snacks for us.”

I wasn't sure why Michael sounded so gruff when he said that, but I had an idea . . . and its initials were D.S.

“We already put some aside,” Hailey told him. “Don't worry. Sam's thinking about you.”

“Oh and, Sam,” Michael said before he walked away. “My mom will be here in a half hour to pick us up. You
are
still coming to my house, right?”

“Right,” I said. “I'll be ready.”

Danny Stratham picked up a cupcake and handed me a dollar.

“Thanks for the snack, Samantha,” he said. “You're still sure that's not your boyfriend?”

“I'm sure,” I said. “We're working on a story together. The Cougar Curse story.”

“Well, it would sure be bad luck for Lawrence if you found a new partner to hang out with.” He laughed.

“Danny Stratham, that's enough!” Hailey interrupted. “We appreciate that West Hills is supporting our cause, but it's almost time for us to pack up. So thank you—and good-bye. Enjoy the car wash!”

“Thanks,” I said to Hailey when Danny walked away. “I don't know why I have trouble getting out of those conversations.”

“Um, let me see, cute . . . athletic . . . charming . . . I can't imagine why you'd want to talk to someone like that.”

“I do
not
like Danny Stratham, Hailey,” I protested. “You know that.”

“I know you don't like him,” Hailey countered.
“But you can like flirting with him. I'd wonder what was wrong with you if you didn't.”

“He's not that charming.” I laughed.