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We both started giggling uncontrollably.

“Yes, I guess I will,” I confessed. “I'll bow to peer pressure and silly superstition.”

“It's not silly,” Hailey said. “It's tradition. And really, really bad luck if you don't.”

Let me explain. There's a statue of a cougar standing on its hind legs in front of Cherry Valley Middle School. All of our sports teams are named the Cougars, and like a million years ago, some class raised enough money to have the statue built and installed in front of the school. Hailey's soccer team, Michael's baseball and football teams,
bowling, tennis, they're all Cougars. Even our robotics team.

Cherry Valley legend says that if you rub the cougar's paw, you'll have good luck. Everyone at Cherry Valley Middle School seems to believe this myth—students, parents, teachers, even Principal Pfeiffer. Kids rub Mr. Cougar's paw before a big test, when they're going to ask someone to a school dance, and of course, before every sporting event. The paw has been rubbed so many times over the years that it is as smooth and shiny as glass.

When we turned the last corner, I felt a little flutter in my stomach. Even though Michael Lawrence is definitely
not
my boyfriend—yet—it was going to be fun to cheer for him. And the weather was perfect for football. I looked out the window and started to daydream. The clear blue skies; the red, yellow, and brown leaves that swirled in the wind; the crisp chill in the air—it was the perfect setting for a girl reporter to walk home hand in hand with the triumphant quarterback after the
game.
Ace Reporter Spotted with Handsome All-Star QB!

“Sam!” Hailey said, a little too loudly considering we were sitting right next to each other. “What do you think is going on?”

It took me a second to realize what Hailey was talking about. She pointed out her window at the front of our school. A large crowd was gathered.

“Wow, it looks like everyone is really into football this year,” Hailey's dad noted.

It didn't make a lot of sense to me. If they were coming to see the game, why weren't they heading to the football field?

Then we spotted the police car. This was definitely not a pregame pep rally. I glanced at Hailey, and she looked as nervous as I felt. Why would the police be at a middle school football game?

“You two stay here while I make sure everything's okay,” Hailey's dad said.

Hailey and I held hands until her dad waved us over. As we made our way through the parking lot, it seemed like everyone from school was there. We had to weave our way through the crowd
that was circled around the front of the school, and it felt like we were never going to get there. But we did. And then we finally saw what all the commotion was about.

It was Mr. Cougar. His paw was on the ground, smashed into tiny pieces. His body was covered with a spray-painted message:
CV—Your Luck Has Run Out
. Police were wrapping yellow caution tape around the statue. Lots of people were taking pictures of the vandalized property. It seemed like a scene from a movie, not like something that would happen in our town.

Hailey gasped. “Cherry Valley Middle School is doomed.”

You know that awkward moment when you realize that everyone is feeling one way and you're feeling something completely different? Like when there's a particularly gruesome part in a scary movie that makes the whole audience in the theater gasp, but you laugh out loud because the special effects seem so cheesy? That's kind of the moment I was having when I heard Hailey gasp.

Don't get me wrong. There wasn't
anything
funny about what had happened to Mr. Cougar. It's just that while everyone else in the crowd looked shocked or upset or worried, my Spidey Senses started tingling. Of course, by Spidey Senses, I mean my reporter's instincts. There are lots of things I know I still need to work on, like choosing outfits for football games and navigating the stairs without tripping. But I am
super confident in my ability to sniff out news, and this was the most newsworthy event to happen at our school since I started working on the
Cherry Valley Voice
. I could feel the excitement pumping through my veins. I knew there was someone else who would feel the same way—Michael Lawrence. He was probably in the locker room listening to his coach pump up the team with an inspirational pregame speech, though.

Just then I heard Gregory Toms yell, “Hey, everyone, the game is still on!” The corners of Hailey's mouth turned up ever so slightly. If you were anyone but her best friend who happens to be a reporter with super-sleuthing skills, you probably wouldn't even notice. But ever since Michael told Hailey that the whole “Eeek, a mouse!” incident had been Greg's way of getting her attention, I could tell she was starting to see him in a different light. (Hailey is terrified of mice and bugs, and Greg teased her once in a movie theater, yelling “EEK!” and she was totally embarrassed. Michael told her it was because Greg actually kind of had a crush on her, which made Hailey feel a lot better.)

The crowd that had gathered around the battered remains of Mr. Cougar began to slowly drift off toward the field. The bleachers filled up pretty quickly, so I had to weigh my desire to stay and poke around the scene against the need to get a seat that would give me the best view of the star quarterback. Guess which way the scale tipped? Front-row-center bleacher seats, look out!

I grabbed Hailey's hand and scurried toward the field. On the way, I caught snippets of people's conversations.
Who do you think did it? I heard Danny Stratham from West Hills got suspended four times last year. I bet it was him. I'll never pass the earthonomics midterm without Mr. Cougar!
Good thing I always carried my reporter's notebook wherever I went. As soon as we sat down, I started jotting down notes. I stopped when the teams ran onto the field. Something wasn't right.

The Cherry Valley Cougars don't have the best record in the league, but they always play like they know they can win, even when they're facing a tough opponent like West Hills. Except that they didn't look confident—they looked concerned. I could tell by
looking at their faces that they had seen Mr. Cougar. I wished I had been in the locker room to give them a pregame speech.
Martone Pumps Up the Cougars and They Steamroll Their Way to a Victory!

The only thing worse than the look on the players' faces was the way they played the game. The Cherry Valley Cougars made Hailey look like Nostradamus. Doomed, indeed. Michael threw seven interceptions, Connor Bourke missed three field goals, and the West Hills' running back ran through the holes in the Cougars' defense like they were made of Swiss cheese. West Hills scored a whopping seventy-three points to our six. The Cougars looked like a team that would make a “Not So Top Ten” list.

The usually boisterous crowd was so quiet that if you talked in your normal voice, it sounded like you were screaming. I found that out when I said, “This is ugly,” to Hailey, and everyone sitting on the bleachers turned around and scowled at me.

“Guess Scoops is out of the question,” Hailey whispered.

“I'd say so,” I agreed. “No one's going to want
to celebrate now.” Especially, I thought, Michael. I felt bad for him. He looked frustrated, and I knew that he got really upset with himself when he felt he wasn't doing his best. I thought about describing the mood, since that's an exercise we did a lot in English class.

Somber. Dismal. Dejected. I have an app on my phone that helps me build vocabulary skills (because reporters
have
to be word masters), and these were a few of the words that I scribbled in my notebook before Hailey and I left the bleachers.

“Do you mind if we wait by the locker room?” I asked Hailey. “I just want to . . .”

Hailey finished my sentence for me. “See Michael Lawrence.”

“Yeah, something like that.” I smirked.

We hung around the locker room, trying to look nonchalant, cringing each time we heard the slam of one of the locker doors or the sound of a water bottle being thrown against the wall. The football team was obviously not a happy group. One by one, the players skulked out, their heads hanging down in defeat. I couldn't help
but smile, though, when I saw a mop of dark hair heading my way.

“Good game,” I lied. It was an incredibly dumb thing to say, but I couldn't help myself.

Michael Lawrence, losing Cougar quarterback and legendary dreamboat, rolled his bright blue eyes at me.

Martone Fumbles with Cheesiest Cliché Ever
.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “It's just one game. You'll get them next time.”

I was really on a cliché roll now.

“I know you're trying to be nice,” Michael said. “But please stop. It's not just one game. It's our luck. It's run out.”

It was my turn to eye roll. And snort, although not intentionally.

“You're joking, right?” I asked.

“I'm not,” Michael replied. “I don't know if we'll even win another game this season.”

“You actually believe in the Mr. Cougar superstition?” I said, shocked. “Do you believe in the tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny, too?”

Michael didn't answer either question. He just stormed off without saying a word.

Hailey looked at me sympathetically. It was not the kind of look you want your best friend to give you right after you were talking to the love of your life and had maybe just blown it.
It had I wish I could give you a do-over; you messed that one up so royally
written all over it.

“I know, okay, so please don't say anything,” I said to Hailey. “I was just hoping he could put aside his football helmet and think about it from a reporter's perspective. But I guess it's too soon.”

“Speaking of reporters,” Hailey said, “check it out.”

Hailey pointed to a WKDH news van that was parked across the street from the school. I had to blink my eyes to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. It certainly took my mind off of my disastrous Michael Lawrence encounter. April Weathers, award-winning television journalist, was exiting the van. A camera operator followed behind her.

“O. . . M . . . ,” I shouted.

“G!” Hailey finished my exclamation for me.
“IT'S APRIL WEATHERS!”

“No,” I corrected. “It's April ‘Peabody-Award-Winning' Weathers. And she's heading our way!”

What happened next seemed like a dream sequence. April Weathers, one of my journalistic idols, actually opened her mouth and spoke to me.

“Excuse me, ladies,” she said in a voice that sounded as if she had perfected her reporter's tone with years of practice. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

“M-m-mind?” I stammered. “Not at all.” The cameraman turned on the light and it was really bright and hot. I suddenly realized I could end up on the evening news, and I got a little nervous.

“How do you feel about what happened to the statue of Cherry Valley's mascot?” April Weathers asked.

“I think it's terrible,” I said. “I don't know why anyone would want to do that to a harmless piece of stone.”

“I agree,” Hailey added. “No one messes with Mr. Cougar and gets away with it. It's just wrong.”

“Do you think that whoever did this wanted to
bring bad luck to Cherry Valley?” questioned April.

“I do!” Hailey said. “Everyone knows it's good luck to rub Mr. Cougar's paw. That's why whoever did this destroyed the paw!”

“Well, if that was their motive, it was a pretty silly one.” I chuckled. “If you believe in facts, like I do, you know that there's no such thing as good, or bad, luck. Right, April?”

April Weathers smiled at me, winked, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of keys. At the end of the key chain was a furry pink rabbit's foot. Ugh! First I blow it with Michael Lawrence and now with April Weathers. Maybe there was something to this Mr. Cougar thing.