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By the time we helped pack up the booth, Michael's mom had arrived to pick us up. Back at Michael's house, he set up the laptop in the kitchen so we could work side by side at the kitchen table. Danny Stratham who?

“I'd offer you a snack, but I'm guessing you're not very hungry,” Michael's mom said. “I have some work to do, so I'll just get out of your way. If you do get hungry, just tell Michael.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Lawrence. You're right. I'm totally stuffed with snacks,” I said.

“You can start typing your notes into the laptop,” Michael said. “I'm going to get out of these wet clothes. Be right back.”

I started by typing the basic questions that are crucial to every good news story.

Who?

What?

Where?

When?

Why?

We didn't know “Who” or “Why” yet, but I had at least a little info to fill in for the rest of the questions.

Michael returned in some dry sweatpants and a T-shirt. He sat down next to me, smelling like soap and car wax. I liked it. I didn't like the way he was acting, though. He wasn't quite sullen Michael, but he was definitely worried or bothered by something. I hoped it wasn't me, but I wasn't really sure.

Our story turned out just like our work session—good, solid, but not very exciting.

My work as Dear Know-It-All gave me a lot of insight into the emotional lives of my fellow students at Cherry Valley Middle School. It did not prepare me, however, for the phone call I received that night.

“Hello, Sam?” I heard a shaky voice say on the other end of the line.

“Michael? Is that you?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I have a confession to make. I've been keeping something from you.”

“Okay, what is it?” I said. “We're friends. You can tell me anything.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Anything?”

“I'm sure, Michael,” I answered, starting to feel impatient. “Just say it.”

“You know how I wasn't really telling you
about the interviews I did with the Cherry Valley kids?” he asked.

“I know. You never did the interviews,” I said. “You were busy with football practice and the stupid Cougar Curse. It's okay. I understand.”

“No, Sam, that's not it!” said Michael, sounding less shaky. “I did the interviews. And I found out who broke Mr. Cougar.”

“Michael Lawrence, are you kidding me?” I was stunned.

“I'm not joking, Sam,” he answered. “I'm dead serious.”

“You just sat right next to me for hours working on this story,
and you didn't mention that you know who did it
!” I yelled.

“
I know
!” he yelled back. “I feel terrible. That's why I'm calling.”

“So what, you wanted to keep the scoop all to yourself?” I asked. “Get a front-page byline of your own?”

“Come on, Sam. You know me better than that,” Michael replied. “It's not like that at all. It's not what anyone thinks at all.”

“What is it, then?” I wondered.

“It wasn't the guys from West Hills, Sam,” Michael explained. “It was kids from Cherry Valley. It was supposed to be a prank. They wanted to put underwear on Mr. Cougar. They thought it would make everyone laugh before the game. But when they started to get the underwear on, the statue tipped over.

“They panicked,” he added. “That's when they decided to make it look like someone vandalized the statue.”

“Michael, you heard Officer Mendez,” I said. “This is a crime. You need to tell someone what you know, even if some of these people are your friends.”

“But I'd feel like such a traitor, Sam!” he cried. “I hang out with some of these guys every day! They're my buddies.”

“It doesn't matter,” I answered. “There's only one right thing to do. So do it.”

“You're not listening, Sam,” Michael pleaded. “These guys are my friends. They didn't mean to do it. And they're really, really sorry.

“That's why we came up with the idea to do the
fund-raiser,” he explained. “We figured it would be a good way to come up with the money to fix Mr. Cougar. Then everything would be okay.”

I stopped and thought for a moment. Was I better than the guys who broke Mr. Cougar? A few months ago, I picked some flowers on my way home from school with Hailey. I went to put them in my mom's favorite vase to surprise her. But the vase slipped and crashed into a million pieces on the floor. I didn't want to get in trouble, so I swept up the pieces and threw them in the neighbor's trash can so Mom wouldn't see them. Mom's been looking for that vase for months. It hurts my heart every time I see her digging through a box or pulling stuff off a closet shelf. I was hoping she'd forget about it, but she hasn't. So I guess I'm just as guilty as the Cougar vandals, after all.

I decided to be a real friend, and I shared my story with Michael.

“So you kind of know what I mean?” he asked, sounding a little hopeful.

“Kind of,” I answered. “But not really. Breaking a vase is an accident. Vandalizing something
is a crime even if it started as an accident. I still think you should tell. But I understand why you don't want to.”

“Thanks for listening, Sam,” Michael said. “I'll definitely think about what you said.”

“I hope you do,” I replied. “See you Monday at school?”

“See you Monday at school,” Michael said before hanging up.

I tossed and turned in bed that night. I felt like a hypocrite. What would Winston Churchill do? What would Lauren Fields do? What would
I
do?

I sent Lauren Fields an e-mail before I went to school on Monday. She replied right away and said I should call her after school.

The day seemed endless. I usually enjoyed my classes more than most of my classmates, but I felt like I was locked up in a cell that I couldn't escape from. Mostly I felt like I was locked up in my own brain and I wanted to escape from that. I didn't know what I would do if Michael didn't tell someone what he knew. I didn't know how I could let the broken vase cover-up go on. I wanted it all to just go away.

I could tell Michael was feeling the same way, although he didn't have much to say to me that
day. We passed each other in the hall on the way to the cafeteria. We both nodded and then put our heads down.

“What's up with you?” Hailey asked. “Wait a minute. . . . Is it Danny Stratham again?”

Trust Hailey to make a girl laugh in her darkest hour.

“No, it's not him,” I said. “It's just this story we're working on. We're . . . we're having trouble putting all the pieces together.”

“Well, it's not going to come together if you just nod your heads and don't talk to each other,” Hailey noted.

“I know. You're right,” I agreed. “We just need some time. Trust me. It will all be okay.”

“I know it will,” Hailey said. “You guys are the dynamic duo of the
Cherry Valley Voice
! How could it not turn out okay?”

I hoped that Hailey was right. That afternoon I waited on the love seat during the
Voice
meeting, but the seat beside me sat empty. Michael rushed into the meeting fifteen minutes after it started. I nodded at him, but this time, he didn't make eye
contact. He just sat in that same chair in the back of the room, and then he left fifteen minutes early.

I went home and made my call to Lauren Fields. I told her that Michael knew something about what happened to Mr. Cougar and that he knew the people who were responsible for damaging the statue, but that he wasn't ready to share what he knew.

“Wow, that's a tough one,” she said. “It's pretty impossible to be neutral when you know the people involved in a story. He should tell what knows because it's the right thing to do. Then he should take himself off the story. He's just too close.”

I knew she was right, but I had no idea how I was going to convince Michael to do that. Luckily, I didn't have to.

Michael called later that night, sounding even worse than he had during our previous conversation.

“Sam, I just wanted to let you know that I talked to Coach Dixon and Principal Pfeiffer,” he said.

“You did?” I said incredulously. “I'm so glad you called them. What did you say?”

“I told them everything I knew,” he stated. “And I felt like a traitor the whole time.”

“I'm sorry. That must have been so tough,” I said.

“It was,” Michael confessed. “And it turns out they'd already suspected the kids who did it. They said they appreciated my honesty. They also promised to keep my name out of the investigation.”

“That's good news,” I said, trying to be cheerful. “Right?”

“Sure. No one will know I'm a traitor but me,” Michael answered sarcastically.

“You're not a traitor,” I assured him. “You did the right thing.”