Invisible Read Free Page B

to introduce them to each other.
    In the end he hadn’t even needed my help to capture his front-page-worthy photo—rendering me even more obsolete than before. Unbeknownst to me, that must have been the day he completed his metamorphosis from The New Kid to the well-accepted jerk. So when Lisa Anne led everyone in a round of applause, I blanched, mumbled some excuse, and fled to the bathroom. Scott and I had scrupulously avoided each other ever since. On the rare occasion that the limited number of computers forced us to sit next to each other, we both pulled out our iPods.
    It was actually kind of amazing that the two of us hadn’t been forced together sooner.
    I just wished my luck had lasted a little bit longer.
    Rubbing my forehead tiredly, I told myself that armed with my plan I could handle Scott Fraser. It might even have been true if Mr. Elliot hadn’t effectively derailed me fifteen minutes before.
    â€œI’m sorry, can you repeat that?” I muttered when I finally noticed him looking at me expectantly.
    That was one way to make it clear that I refused to be intimidated on this assignment.
    Not.
    â€œI said, what’s your angle?” Scott sounded half bored, one quarter irritated, and one quarter smugly certain that I could never pull off a front-page story.
    â€œI don’t know yet,” I admitted.
    He crossed his arms, and I would have loved to say something—anything—to remove that stupid smirk from his face. Unfortunately, I had a feeling he was absolutely right: I wasn’t ready for this.
    â€œDo you have any ideas?”
    â€œErm . . . no?” I probably shouldn’t have let my answer sound like a question.
    â€œWell, that’s helpful, Grammar Girl.”
    I glared at him. The only time our sportswriter, Brad, had asked him to edit an article, Scott had waved dismissively in my general direction and said, “Grammar Girl can fix it.” That stupid nickname had spread like wildfire and successfully removed the necessity for anyone on the newspaper to actually learn my name.
    But I couldn’t do anything juvenile for payback. I had to be the bigger person if I wanted to prove that I could do more than apply basic rules of punctuation. Then I’d be taken seriously when I suggested adding a fiction page to the paper.
    I just had to nail this story first.
    â€œCould we hold off on the animosity? I got this assignment all of five minutes ago! Just . . . give me a second!”
    Scott’s smirk never wavered. “Want me to come back sometime next week? Think you’ll have processed it by then?”
    I took a deep breath and pictured him as a toothy iguana that I could blow up with the help of a handy grenade. Much better.
    â€œRegardless of what you think, Scott, I’m writing the front-page story. And since your reputation is on the line, you should want it to succeed every bit as much as I do.”
    I was bluffing, of course. Our stakes were nowhere near the same. If he took crappy photos it’d be disregarded as a fluke. If I bombed I’d be Grammar Girl for the rest of high school, or worse, I might be ignored completely.
    But Scott didn’t need to know that.
    â€œYou think you can mess up my place on the paper?” His grin widened as if the thought were too ridiculous for words. “Not in this lifetime, Grammar Girl.”
    Had it been anyone else I might have felt bad about lying right to their face to suit my own needs. But since it was Scott Fraser . . . not so much. I leaned forward and met his gaze evenly.
    â€œWe both know you’re still considered the newbie. And a few decent photos for the paper—”
    â€œDecent!” Scott interrupted.
    â€œYep. Average shots at best, really,” I lied. “Definitely not enough to prove that you’re consistent. So if we don’t deliver a killer front-page spread, get ready to say hello to the bottom corner on page