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“There's another thing I have to do to make things right,” Michael added.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I don't think I can work on this story with you,” he announced.

“I agree,” I told him. “You're too close to it to
be objective. I understand.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“See?” I said. “You did two right things in one day. You shouldn't feel bad.”

“Right,” said Michael. “I ratted out some of my friends, and I let my favorite writing partner down. Best day ever.

“Oh, and I still have the Cougar Curse,” Michael added. “I threw four interceptions in practice today.”

“Well, Mr. Cougar will be fixed soon, and then the curse will be lifted,” I said hopefully. “Just see if you can wait it out a little longer.”

“Thanks, Pasty,” Michael said. “I'll try.”

After I hung up the phone, a wave of guilt rushed through my body. Michael Lawrence had been brave enough to tell the truth. What was my problem?

I went into my mom's room and sat at the edge of her bed. “Mom, I have something I need to tell you,” I said solemnly.

“What is it, Sam?” she asked. “Bad grade?
Missed an assignment? Trouble with Hailey?”

“No, none of those things,” I answered. “I did something really bad a few months ago, and I hid it from you. And I'm really so sorry that I didn't just tell you right away.”

Mom put her hands down on the bed, as if she were trying to prop herself up. I didn't know what was going through her mind, but I don't think it was a broken vase.

“What did you do, Sam?” she said, her voice almost as low as a whisper.

“I broke your favorite vase—you know, the blue one with the white flowers,” I said. “I didn't mean to, Mom. It was a complete accident. I was actually trying to do something nice for you. I picked you a bunch of wildflowers and I was going to put it on the kitchen table. It just slipped out of my hand.”

Mom looked relieved. Then she looked serious again. “I know accidents happen,” Mom said. “But that vase was from Grandma. It can never be replaced.”

I felt hot tears stream down my cheeks. I hated
breaking Mom's vase, but I hated hurting her feelings even more. I didn't know what to say.

“There's another, even more important thing that's very hard to replace when you break it, Sam,” Mom added. “Do you know what it is?”

“No,” I admitted.

“It's trust,” Mom said. “It hurts that you broke that vase, but I would have gotten over it. It hurts even more that you hid it from me. You broke a piece of our trust, Sam, and that's a really delicate thing.”

By now I was pretty much bawling my eyes out. “Will you ever trust me again?” I wailed.

Mom pulled me close, hugged me, and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. “Samantha Martone, you are a good girl,” she said. “I know that, and I trust you. So let's keep it that way. If you do something wrong and you tell me, that trust will stay strong.”

“I promise, Mom.” I sniffed. “I will never ever keep anything from you again.”

“I hope so,” Mom said. “And you'll make up the broken vase by folding laundry for a month, deal?”

“Deal,” I agreed.

Mom and I shook hands; then we hugged each other tightly.

“Mom?” I said.

“What is it, Sam?” she asked.

“I just remembered something really important I need to do,” I explained.

“Okay, so go do it!” Mom laughed.

My Dear Know-It-All column draft was waiting on my computer. It needed a major rewrite.

I woke up the next morning and found a message in my e-mail in-box.

Sam,

Just wanted to check in and see how everything went. I believe in you.

—Lauren Fields

I picked up the phone and called the
Gazette
. I wasn't sure if Ms. Fields would be at work so early, but I figured that since she was a reporter,
she probably got an early start. I was right.

“Hi, this is Sam Martone,” I said. “I got your e-mail. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Hi, Sam,” Ms. Fields replied. “How are you? What's going on?”

“I was just wondering if you ever use confidential sources,” I asked. “You know, off the record?”

“All the time, Sam,” Ms. Fields said in a serious reporter tone.

“Well, then, this confidential source is informing you that they know who did it, and it's not the kids from West Hills,” I reported, feeling like I was in the middle of the Watergate investigation.

“Thanks so much, Sam,” Ms. Fields said. “I'm on it!”

She wasn't kidding, either. The next day the story hit the
Cherry Valley Gazette
.

Cougar Cursed by Prank Gone Bad

The story went on to inform the readers that kids from Cherry Valley were responsible for the damage to the cougar statue in front of Cherry Valley Middle School. It didn't
name names, but all the details were in there. I admired Ms. Fields's work. The story was straightforward but factual. As Mr. Swopes said, “Sometimes a news story is just a news story.”

I tried to take that advice as I finished my story for the
Voice
. I interviewed Mr. Pfeiffer and Officer Mendez and typed in some final revisions quickly, the clock ticking over my shoulder.

They are withholding the names of the students at the present time, but “They know who they are, and we know where they are,” said Officer Mendez. “We're working with their families to determine the best way that they can pay the restitution needed to repair the statue.”

A confidential source has informed this reporter that the students are incredibly sorry for their actions and feel terrible about covering it up.

I saved my final draft and sent it to Mr. Trigg for approval. Then I left the newsroom and looked for Michael. I found him outside the locker room.

“Hey, is everything okay?” I asked as I approached him.

He smiled at me, a bright, beautiful, happy smile that I had really, really missed.

“Getting better all the time,” he said.

“Coach Dixon just gave the team a big talk,” he added. “He talked about the importance of being honest and owning up to your mistakes. It worked. The kids involved in the Mr. Cougar incident stood up and admitted that they did it!”

That was newsworthy information! I wondered why Mr. Pfeiffer hadn't shared it with me during the interview. Good thing I had a reliable inside source on the story: Michael Lawrence!

“Oh, and one other thing,” Michael continued. “The kids have agreed to get after-school jobs. They're going to help pay for the repairs. They're also going to be suspended from most of our future games.”

“I'm sorry,” I said sincerely. “That has to hurt.”

“I won't lie. It does,” Michael confessed. “I don't think we're winning the championship anyway this year, though.”

“I'll admit, it doesn't look that way,” I agreed. “But look on the bright side. There's so much
room for improvement now!”

Michael reached over and ruffled my hair. I thought I felt a spark, but I wasn't sure if it was just that static electricity thing that happens, or something else.

Nearly all the students in the hallways of Cherry Valley Middle School had their heads in a copy of the
Voice
after it was distributed at the end of the week. The headline of my story,
Cougar Curse Cracked
, appeared in big, bold letters at the top of the fold.

“That's surprising,” I said as I turned to Hailey and snatched the paper from her hands. “It's old news already. The story's been out for a few days. Why is everyone so interested in it now?”

“It's been out, but everyone knows that you're the source for the real facts,” Hailey explained. “And don't look like you don't know that, either. You can feel proud, Sam. You did a great job.”

“Thanks, Hailey,” I said. “I really do feel proud.”

“It's an important story. There were so many rumors and interpretations going on,” Hailey added. “Sometimes you just need the plain black-and-white facts.”

I had never agreed more with my best friend.

We plopped into our seats in homeroom and listened to the announcements made by Principal Pfeiffer over the PA system.

“Students, I have some incredible news to share with you today,” Mr. Pfeiffer told the school. “And anonymous donor has volunteered to fix Mr. Cougar. He or she will put up the money to pay the bill until the students can pay back the amount. The Cougar Curse is lifted!”

Homeroom is supposed to be a silent period, but every classroom in the school erupted with cheers after Mr. Pfeiffer's announcement. You would have thought the Cougars had won the championship game or something, not that some silly curse was broken.

I was walking home from school that afternoon when Michael Lawrence caught up to me.

“Mind if I walk with you?” he asked.