Circle of Silence Read Free Page A

those two
letters chalked all over the place.”
    Phil Colletti is Marci’s boyfriend. He’s a linebacker; she’s
the cocaptain of the soccer team. They make an interesting couple—the Italian
giant and the Korean imp—but there you go. Brooklyn diversity in all its
glory.
    “I saw those initials, too,” I say. “Chalked on the wall near
the nurse’s office.”
    “Got to be Marshall Prep. That’s who the football team plays
first.”
    “Okay. Why are you so upset?”
    “Coming into our school, punking us before the game like that
is so insulting.”
    “It’s actually kind of lame, Marci.”
    “Not really. They got into the third floor without anyone
seeing. It’s bold.”
    My reporter instinct kicks in. “Let’s do a story.”
    “Hell no. We are not giving Marshall the satisfaction of
knowing it bothers us.”
    “Okay, then what—”
    The door pounds. Jesse. Or James. “Mom said she told you to
come right back down!”
    “Gotta go. Call you later.” Sneaking quietly across the room, I
pull the door and stretch my arms. “Gotcha!”
    James shrieks. “You scared me!”
    “Dinnertime!” My zombie laugh echoes. “You, little man, look
good enough to eat!”
    James wriggles out of my grasp and runs down the steps,
screaming. I chase him, laughing insanely. Dad, pulling off his tie, steps out
of his bedroom. “What on earth is going on?”
    From the kitchen, Jesse cries, “I want to play, too—”
    Crash. The sound of breaking glass
echoes throughout the house.
    “Jesse Gaines!” Mom yells. “Why can’t you be more careful?”
    “You got milk all over me!” Bethany shouts. “Stupid idiot!”
    Jesse wails. James laughs. Dad thunders. Drama at the Gaines
Family Zoo. Drama at WiHi . Two days into the first
semester and already it’s obvious the year’s going to be a wild ride.

3
    The Media Center isn’t set up like a regular classroom.
The only “desks” are two round tables in the middle of the room. A row of
computers, loaded with editing software and graphics programs, line the back
wall. On the east side, there’s a mini-TV newsroom. Somebody, some year, painted
the front of the school on a backdrop—a very realistic, to-scale depiction. The
station’s call letters, WiHi, are printed at the bottom. The station’s weekly
anchorperson sits at an oval table directly in front of the painting.
    Mr. Carleton keeps the equipment in several large, locked
cabinets on the opposite wall. Cameras, microphones, headsets, lights. Sign-out
sheets are clipped to a board. Next to the cabinets, two small glass-fronted
rooms were carved out. One is the sound booth, the other the control room.
    Attendance taken, B Team settles at our table. I open my Campus News notebook and wet my lips nervously.
“Ideas?”
    Marci speaks first. “I could interview the football team about
their chances for the year.”
    I glance at my List of Possible Stories. Next to the line that
says Football/school spirit/hot dog stand, I’d
penciled in Marci’s name.
    “Excellent. Since it’s the first game, can you add a bit about
school spirit? And don’t forget the senior hot dog stand. Money goes to
prom.”
    She nods. “Can I work with Omar?”
    Advanced TV Production works in teams of two. One person
interviews, holding the mic, while the other runs the camera, wearing a headset
to check sound quality. They switch roles for the second person’s
assignment.
    “You’re on, sista. But it’s a lot of setups,” Omar says.
“Anyone got something easy for my segment?” His eyes flicker toward Raul as if he’ s the one in charge.
    I jump in quick. “How about a Spotlight? There’s that new
assistant principal.”
    Raul laughs. “Mrs. Fairy?”
    “Fahey,” I correct.
    “Like anyone’s gonna call her that,” Jagger snorts.
    “Snap!” Omar gives me the wriggly eyebrows. “Spotlight works,
Val. Always a good idea to kiss up to the new administration.”
    Two down. Time to take on the monster. “How about