Front Page Face-Off Read Free

in nauseating romance with my mom, he worked on government defense technology.
    â€œWith the projects his team handles, they probably could build me a time machine,” I said. “Then at least I’d know what was coming.”
    The candy ring popped out of Jenner’s mouth. “Don’t tell me you actually believe Paige.”
    I pointed to a group of squealing girls ahead of us, one of whom was clutching a familiar red envelope. “They all want to be Little Debbies, and if they think it’ll help their chances, they’ll give up any secret they know.”
    â€œBut about you ?” Jenner cast me a dubious look. “No offense, but you’re not that interesting.”
    I shoved her playfully. “It doesn’t have to be about me, dummy. It just has to affect me.”
    Jenner sucked on her ring and looked thoughtful. “Something with the newspaper?”
    I nodded. “Paige knows it’s the only thing at school I care about.”
    â€œWell, she’s crazy if she thinks that’ll go wrong .” Jenner smiled around her emerald-colored candy. “Not while the editor’s smooching your sneakers, anyway.”
    I gave a modest shrug, but I knew she was right.
    Ben Hines, the student editor, had been crushing on me since I’d saved him from the Swirlie Bandit in sixth grade. He was the shortest kid in our class and let his mom wipe his face with saliva-soaked Kleenex. Naturally that made him a prime target for attack.
    At the time, I’d been trying to unmask the Swirlie Bandit, but nobody in the boy’s bathroom would say anything to me except “Get out!” When I finally managed to sneak in, the Swirlie Bandit showed up to dunk Ben, and I exposed him in person and in the paper. The boy had been smart enough to hide his face … but not his jersey with the name “Marcus” on it. Nowadays he was probably serving time in juvie with kids named Knuckles and the Impaler.
    â€œI should try and find Marcus for a follow-up article,” I said.
    Jenner snorted. “Somehow I doubt he’d talk to you.” She tugged my hair. “Weren’t his last words ‘I hate you, crazy redhead’?”
    â€œYes, but the Little Debbies hate me too,” I reminded her, “and look how that turned out.”
    Jenner shuddered. “Geez, what a freaky cult. I’m so glad you didn’t join.”
    â€œHaving their info would have rocked,” I admitted, “but I can come up with stories on my own.”
    â€œExactly.” Jenner nodded. “Because you are a future Junior Global Journalist.”
    â€œSpeaking of which”—I rubbed my hands together—“it’s time for the debut edition of the paper! Which article is more award-worthy? X-ray machines for frogs or desperate dating behavior?”
    â€œX-rays, definitely.” Jenner held up a hand. “ Unless the desperate dating involves sending someone a severed thumb.”
    â€œNo, but almost as gross.” I stepped closer to whisper. “Two weeks ago at the mall, I saw Renee Mercer wearing dark sunglasses and a wig.”
    Jenner’s eyebrows furrowed. “Okay …”
    â€œShe was hiding behind this big pillar in the food court, watching her ex-boyfriend eat an ice-cream cone. He couldn’t finish it, so he threw it away. As soon as he left, Renee ran over to the waste bin and pulled out the ice-cream cone.”
    Jenner’s jaw dropped. “She didn’t—”
    I nodded. “She ate it.”
    Jenner flinched. “That’s an entirely different kind of creepy.”
    I pulled a spiral notepad from my back pocket and read aloud. “Gobbling his garbage? It’s time to move on.”
    â€œUh … no.” Jenner took my notepad and ripped off the top page. “You’re not writing an article about people who can’t let go. Especially Renee. She’ll pound you into