Vanessa's Fashion Face-Off (15 page)
Read Vanessa's Fashion Face-Off Online
Authors: Jo Whittemore
“I'll help,” she said with a sheepish grin.
I ventured to class alone, expecting the newsroom to be packed with students, shouting about deadlines and brainstorming ideas. But when I got there, I was only the third person to show.
In the front row a blond girl scribbled like mad in a notebook. Two rows behind her a guy sat with one long leg resting on top of the desk
and the other in the aisle, tapping a beat with his foot.
The girl looked way too frantic to approach, but the guy was doodling a lion, the symbol for Chelsea Football Club, my favorite soccer team. I took it as a sign and sat beside him.
“Chelsea?” I asked.
He blinked at me. “No, I'm Gil.”
I laughed. “I meant are you a fan of Chelsea Football Club?” I pointed to his drawing.
“Ohhh!” He laughed too. “No, it's Leo. You know . . . the zodiac sign? I do the horoscopes.” Then he returned to his drawing and started bobbing his head to imaginary music.
I settled back in my seat and looked at the whiteboard while more students strolled in. Different sections and jobs at the paper had been written on the board with names beside them:
editor in chief
,
features
,
sports
,
entertainment
,
opinion . . .
I frowned. All the positions were filled. What
was left for the Three Musketeers?
“Hey!” said Vanessa, dropping into the seat on my other side. “Why the long face?”
I pointed to the board. “What are we going to do? Everything's taken.”
Heather took an empty seat in front of us. “Don't worry! We'll find something that's perfect for us. It's like my mom always saysâ”
“Hey! Sixth graders!”
All three of us snapped our heads around to look for the speaker. The blond girl who had been writing up a storm was now shaking her head with disapproval and pointing to the front of the classroom.
The teacher, Mrs. Higginbotham, waved at us. “Let's do a quick roll call before we get started, shall we?” She glanced at a clipboard and then up at the class. “Tim Antonides?”
“Oh, yay!” I said, looking around with everyone else.
On top of being Gabby's brother, Tim had played in a coed baseball league with me. He was fun to talk sports with, mainly because he didn't end each sentence by spitting, like the other guys.
But I didn't see Tim, and he didn't answer.
Mrs. Higginbotham called his name again before moving on. As students responded to the roll call, she jotted their names on a seating chart.
“Welcome to Journalism,” she said when she was done taking attendance. “I see a lot of familiar faces and some new ones, but any input is always welcome. This class is an elective, but you'll still be graded based on your contribution to the newspaper. Our first issue will be what we call âthe short issue,' since the school year starts on a Wednesday and we don't have an entire week's worth of news yet. Nevertheless, I expect the sections to have their pieces in by Friday, and I expect quality material.”
The blond girl raised her hand and stood to
face the class before Mrs. Higginbotham could say another word.
“Greetings, everyone,” the girl said with a tight smile and curt nod. “My name is Mary Patrick Stephens, editor in chief of the
Lincoln Log
.”
Her tone made it sound as if she were president of the United States.
“Since it's my final year with the paper, I want it to be a great one. This means brilliant stories and hard-hitting journalism.” She pounded a fist into her hand. “Articles that would make Woodward and Bernstein proud!”
Vanessa leaned toward me. “What do woodwinds and Burt's Bees have to do with anything?”
I put my finger to my lips.
Mary Patrick spun toward Mrs. Higginbotham, blond hair fanning out around her shoulders. “You can count on this journalism team, Mrs. H. We will not let you down!”
Mrs. Higginbotham regarded her with wide
eyes. “Th-thank you, Mary Patrick. You can be seated.”
“She's a little intense,” Heather whispered over her shoulder.
I nodded, but deep down, I admired Mary Patrick's commitment to the paper. It was like me, with soccer. I'd practice as long and hard as it took to be the best.
Mrs. Higginbotham clapped her hands and looked at the rest of us. “As I said, the short issue is due Friday for release next Monday. I don't want you to worry about layout yet; I'm more concerned with content. Most of you know your jobs, but we have half a page that needs to be filled.” She sighed. “Zack's still on probation for his article âNo Pants Day.'”
Several people giggled, but nobody volunteered to write for the half page. My hand shot up.
Mrs. Higginbotham pointed to me and
glanced at her seating chart. “Yes . . . Brooke, is it?”
Whoops. I'd been so excited for the space, I hadn't actually come up with anything. “Uh . . . we . . .”
I looked to Vanessa and Heather, who smiled encouragingly. I racked my brain frantically. What could we all talk about? Our interests were so different that we were always giving each other . . .
“Advice!” I blurted. “The Three Musketeers could do an advice column!”
Mrs. Higginbotham wrinkled her forehead. “The who?”
Several people giggled again.
I blushed and gestured at Vanessa and Heather. “I mean the three of us. I could give advice on fitness and sports”âthe more I thought about it, the faster I spokeâ“Vanessa could do beauty and fashion, and Heather's great
with friendships and relationships.”
“An advice column.” Mrs. Higginbotham chewed the end of her marker.
Mary Patrick twisted in her seat to look from us to Mrs. Higginbotham. “That's not really hard-hitting news,” she said. “Couldn't they do an exposé column, digging up dirt inside the school? Because I'm pretty sure there's actual dirt in the cafeteria mud pie.”
“I think Brooke's idea is brilliant,” said Gil, leaning over to high-five us. “The perfect balance to horoscopes. Advice from the stars . . . and advice from the students.”
Mrs. Higginbotham smiled. “Advice column it is.” She turned toward the whiteboard. “Brooke and . . . ?”
I repeated the other names while she jotted them in squeaky marker. The moment her back was turned, Tim Antonides sneaked into the classroom, gym bag over one shoulder.
“You must be Tim,” said Mrs. Higginbotham, still scribbling away. “And you must be late.”
He froze midcreep. “Sorry. I got lost.”
“That's fine,” she said, turning around. “Because you're just in time for your new assignment. You'll be working as an advice columnist with Brooke, Vanessa, and Heather.”
“What?” Tim and I both said at the same time.
So much for the Three Musketeers.
Photo by Sonya Sones
JO WHITTEMORE
is the author of the humorous tween novels
Front Page Face-Off, Odd Girl In, D Is for Drama, Colonial Madness,
and the Confidentially Yours series. Jo is a member of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators and is one of the founding members of the Texas Sweethearts & Scoundrels. When she isn't writing, Jo spends her time with family and friends in Austin, dreaming of the day she can afford a chocolate house.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at
hc.com
.
Confidentially Yours #1: Brooke's Not-So-Perfect Plan
VANESSA'S FASHION FACE-OFF.
Copyright © 2016 by HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.harpercollinschildrens.com
Library of Congress Control Number:
2015938986
ISBN 978-0-06-235895-0
EPub Edition © December 2015 ISBN 9780062358967
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