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“Football?” He laughed. “I've got the highest average in my school. I'm not counting on something like football for a scholarship. It's just a game.”

“Oh, then good luck with that academic scholarship,” I said, trying to end the call before I got any more flustered. “And thanks again for talking to me.”

“My pleasure,” he replied. “See you at the field sometime. And if you ever want to watch the game from the winning side, come on down to West Hills for a game. You'll be my guest.”

It felt like I was never going to be able to end the conversation, but we finally said our last good-byes and I hung up the phone. I looked at it, unsure who to call next. I had finished talking to everyone on Emma's list, and I really wanted to call Hailey and tell her all about the “Michael Lawrence's girlfriend” quote and about my odd, flirty conversation with Danny
Stratham, but I needed to keep my focus on the story.

I dialed a familiar number and waited for an answer.

“Hello, Mrs. Lawrence. This is Sam Martone,” I said. “Is Michael around?”

“Sure, honey,” Mrs. Lawrence replied. “Hold on a minute.”

I heard a crash and bang and then a dial tone. Two seconds later, my phone rang.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, knowing that Michael would be on the other end of the line.

“Yes, just a little kitchen trouble.” Michael laughed.

“Cougar Curse?” I suggested.

“Or my clumsy writing partner rubbing off on me,” he joked.

I started to tell Michael all about my interviews with the West Hills kids and how annoyed they were that they were getting blamed for what happened to Mr. Cougar. I gave him a quick synopsis of each interview, but when I got to the last one, he interrupted me.

“Wait a minute. You talked to Danny Stratham?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?” I said. “I thought you said he was a good guy.”

“Did I say that? I don't remember saying that,” Michael replied. “What did
he
say?”

I wasn't about to tell him about the whole Miss Michael-Lawrence-is-not-my-boyfriend aspect of the conversation, especially when he seemed so miffed just because I talked to him, so I just said that Danny Stratham sounded nice and was easy to talk to.

“Nice in what way?” Michael asked. “Do you know he has a new girlfriend every other week?”

“I did
not
know that,” I said. “I'll make sure to put it in the news report.”

“Don't get wise with me, Pasty,” Michael said. “It's just something I thought you should know.”

“Okay, now I know,” I said. “I think I'm finished reporting on my work. Let's hear about your interviews.”

“I've been doing them,” he said. “They've been going well.”

“Feel like sharing any details?” I asked. “Who'd you talk to?”

“Just—just a few kids,” he stammered. “You know most of them. We can go over it later. I just realized—I've got to get back to my cinnamon buns.”

“All right, then,” I replied. “I'll keep working on my end. Let me know if you find out anything interesting.”

“Sure, Sam. Sounds good,” he said, and then he hung up the phone abruptly.

Now I was ready to talk to Hailey. But when I called her house, her mom said she was at a meeting with Anthony Wright and the principal to talk about their plans for the school's student government team.

I finally got a chance to talk to Hailey when I got to school the next morning, but there were bigger things to discuss than boys. Officer Mendez and her partner were in Mr. Pfeiffer's office.

“What's going on?” Hailey asked. “This looks serious.”

“I'm going to find out,” I said. “Be right back.”

I raced over to Mr. Pfeiffer's office and bumped into someone on the way. My books went flying all over the floor. When I looked up, Michael Lawrence was staring down at me.

“Cougar Curse, Pasty?” He chuckled.

“No, clumsy curse,” I answered. “Help me. We have to talk to Officer Mendez and see if we can get the scoop.”

Michael and I hovered around Mr. Pfeiffer's office until Officer Mendez walked out with Connor Bourke.

“Excuse me, Officer Mendez,” Michael said. “We were wondering if there were any new developments in the case that we could report on.”

“No new developments,” she replied. “That's why we're here—to try to turn some up.”

“Would we be able to sit in on your interviews and observe them?” I asked. “We wouldn't say a word.”

“I'm sorry. I can't let you do that,” Officer Mendez said. “That's confidential information.”

“Is there any other information you
can
share with us?” Michael asked.

“We're trying to establish the timeline of the incident,” answered Officer Mendez. “We also want to find out who might have been in the vicinity of the statue when the incident occurred.”

“And you're doing that by interviewing students?” I asked.

“Yes, and also with other methods. The video cameras at the doors of the school didn't appear to capture anything, but we're still going to take a closer look at it. We also have data about which key cards were swiped to get in and out of the locker room before the game. Of course, that means we'll be interviewing the entire football team, including you, Mr. Lawrence. Care to join me in Mr. Pfeiffer's office?”

“What?” Michael said, stunned. “I mean, of course, I'm happy to answer any of your questions.”

I watched as Michael sat down in the chair across from Mr. Pfeiffer's desk. His leg was shaking the same way it had in the police station. Officer Mendez started to close the door.

“See you later, Ms. Martone,” she said. “Have a good day.”

Hailey ran to catch up with me in the hallway on the way to class.

“Sam, why are the police talking to Michael Lawrence?” she asked. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“It's not a big deal,” I reassured her—and myself. “They're talking to everyone on the football team. It's standard procedure.”

“Samantha Martone, when you talk to Michael Lawrence later and find out what happened in that office—and I know that you will—I had better be the first person you call,” she said.

“I promise,” I said. “You better be home to answer my call! I tried to get you yesterday and you were in some important meeting.”

On the way to class, I told Hailey all about my phone calls with Danny Stratham and Michael Lawrence. She thought Michael's response was definitely a jealous reaction. I wasn't sure. He seemed more uncomfortable than jealous.

He seemed even worse at our
Voice
meeting that afternoon. He was back in his spot next to me on the love seat, which was a good sign, but I
could tell he was hardly paying attention to anything Mr. Trigg said at the beginning of the meeting.

When we broke off into teams, I asked him what happened in Mr. Pfeiffer's office with Officer Mendez.

“I can't tell you that, Sam,” he said. “That's confidential information.”

“Very funny,” I said. “So what did you two talk about?”

“I'm not joking,” Michael replied. “I can't tell you what we talked about.”

“Michael Lawrence, we are working on an investigative report on the very incident that you were meeting with a police officer about in the principal's office,” I reminded him.
“Tell me what you talked about!”

“Samantha Martone, do you remember Mr. Trigg's lecture about journalism and ethics?” Michael reminded me. “That would be blurring the lines.”

“How?” I said angrily. “I don't see it. We need to use all of our resources to get to the bottom of
the story, and you talking to the police about the incident is just one of those resources. As long as it's legal and ethical, there's no problem.”

“Let me spell it out for you, then,” Michael said, just as angrily. “I spoke to Officer Mendez as a member of the football team. Not as a reporter. I don't think it is ethical to share that information.
And nothing you say is going to convince me otherwise.
”

Whoa.

“I think our meeting's over now,” Michael added. “See you around, Sam.”

Then he stormed off.

I was so confused by what had just happened, I didn't know how to react. I think I had just yelled at Michael Lawrence. I think he had just yelled back at me. I think I'm still mad at him. And I think I'm even angrier because I don't like it when we disagree. We always see eye to eye on things. That's why we work so well together.

Mr. Trigg came over to the love seat.

“Is everything okay, Ms. Martone?” he asked.

“I'll be fine,” I said. “Michael and I just had
a difference of opinion about how to approach the cougar story. We'll work it out.”

“Ms. Martone, when I'm in a pickle, I try to picture someone I admire and imagine the way that they'd handle it.”

“You mean like Winston Churchill?” I asked.

“Exactly!” Mr. Trigg beamed.

A thought about Mr. Trigg's advice all day, and I was still thinking about it when I went to bed that night. It was a pickle, all right. Who would compare to Winston Churchill as a mentor, though?

I looked out my window and saw a star. “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.” I have been doing that since I was really little. If you wish on the first star you see, your wish will come true. It's not a superstition either. It's just something you do. Before I closed my eyes to go to sleep, I made a wish. I wished that Michael Lawrence and I would get back to seeing things eye to eye. And I hoped that the Cougar Curse wouldn't get in the way of my wish.

My star wish didn't come true the next day. It proved my original point, though. Facts, you can count on. Wishes are as unreliable as curses.