Circle of Silence Read Free Page B

anchoring,
Jagger? It’s not hard—”
    “Nah,” he interrupts. “I don’t want to be on camera.”
    Of course. I should have told him not to anchor. “Then what’s your plan?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “If you don’t anchor, you have to shoot and edit a piece. Do
you have an idea?”
    His eyes turn thunderstorm-gray. “Didn’t know I had to think of
one.”
    Omigod. Why is he even in this
class?
    Trying not to appear flustered, I glance at Henry. “What if you
take the anchor position for the first broadcast? That way, you’ll have time to
help with the opening graphics.”
    He nods. “I could do that.”
    Thank goodness for Henry. “Cool. That leaves Raul with
Jagger.”
    Jagger leans forward. “Why can’t you and me be together?”
    My heart jumps—until I realize he’s playing me. Or is he? The
sudden intensity in his eyes is confusing. It seems so…honest. The next instant,
though, I catch myself.
    Do not fall for the Voorham charm the very
first day!
    Omar, fanning his face with mock envy, raises his voice.
“Hooking up during Campus News! That allowed, Mr.
Carleton?”
    The teacher, sitting with A Team, glances at us. “Whatever you
say, Omar. As long as Work. Gets. Done.”
    Great. First day in charge. Jagger’s making a fool of me, and
Mr. C. thinks we’re screwing around.
    “Producer doesn’t take a specific assignment the first week,
Voorham.” My voice has a frosty edge. “Except for directing anchor stuff and
making sure everything else works out.”
    Raul must think I can’t handle Jagger, because he jumps in.
“Val’s right. You’re with me. How about doing something on the new skateboard
park down by the river?”
    Why didn’t I think of that?
    “Community story! Carleton’ll love it,” I tell him.
    Raul smiles. At the same time, Jagger looks a bit…disappointed.
Or maybe he’s pissed that he didn’t get his way.
    I glance at Marci to see if she’s paying attention, but she’s
filling out the Question Sheet for the football story.
    Quickly, I get back to work. “That leaves only one segment to
figure out.” After checking my list again, I make a decision. “After-school
clubs. It’ll be good for the ninth graders.”
    Jagger snorts. “Clubs? I’d rather do something about MP.”
    Omar glances at him curiously. “Who’s that?”
    “Haven’t you seen the initials chalked around school?” Jagger
asks. “Got to be a tagger.”
    Marci pushes her paper aside. “MP. It’s Marshall Prep. They’re
the first football team we play. They’re messing with our heads. Something you
know all about.”
    He grins. “Whatever. I’ll do that. Talk to the usual suspects
around school. If nothing pans out graffiti-wise, I know a guy at Marshall. I
can try to find out if he’s heard anything—”
    “No way!” Marci declares. “Marshall Prep does not get one bit
of publicity for punking us.”
    Jagger tilts his chair back so that it balances precariously on
two legs. “Why are you so against me trying, Marcikins?”
    Quickly, I shut my notebook. I need to take charge right now so the team doesn’t blow up before a single
frame is shot.
    “It doesn’t matter whose initials they are. Clubs are more
useful for a first broadcast. Five hundred freshmen need to hear about them
before sign-up day.”
    Jagger lets the chair down with a dissatisfied bang. “Whatever
you say. But I’m willing to bet MP is a way better story than a group of
lame-ass kids sitting around solving equestrian math puzzles!”

  
    What we need is hatred. From it our ideas are born.
    Jean Genet
    MP LOG
    Six drops of blood. Oh yeah, they looked cool on the page. Real
red. One drop for each of us. We sat in a circle and pricked our fingers. Even
the chicks did it. Then we mixed them together for a blood oath. Watching each
other’s backs is the only way to survive.
    This school is such bullshit, man. Ask anyone what they
think and they’ll say it blows. But the truth is, everyone’s a phony.