“Not really,” Maddy said. “It’s just the way they are. Always in a pack together.”
“I ran into them at school,” I said, “and yeah, they’re creeps. And they’re bullying this girl named Anavi. I think in the game first, and it sounds like outside it now too. She must be in your class, Devin. Former spelling bee champion of the world or something?”
“I know her,” Devin said. “Solid player, and scary smart in class.”
“The thing is, Principal Butler didn’t do anything when she reported it to him. Except tell her to get over it. I don’t like it. Not with stories about bullying all over the place. No principal should be waving it off, not for some great student like Anavi. That’s our first story.”
If the messing with the inside of her head part was true, then it might be an even bigger story. The whole thing might fall under the heading of Strange Phenomena. More and more things did these days, even if no one would admit it. The trick to seeing things other people missed was to look for them.
But the bullying angle was enough for now. No need to make these guys think of me as some nutty conspiracy theorist. I waited for the verdict.
James sniffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You’re not the editor.”
“Neither are you,” Devin pointed out. “We’re just news staff. Same as Lois.”
“Technically, I’m the only person in this room who’s an editor,” Maddy said. She smiled. “Look, it’s a better idea than we’ve had yet. May as well try to get a story out of it and get Perry off our backs.”
“Which means you’re outvoted, the Third,” I said, and hopped off the desk. Time to get out while I was ahead. “I have to go home. See you in class tomorrow, Devin.”
“But you’re not in it,” he said.
I winked. “Maybe not,” I said, “but I will be by then.”
CHAPTER 3
When I breezed through the front door of our new apartment, the whole place smelled like from-scratch tomato sauce. In other words: heaven. If heaven was full of unpacked boxes, anyway. We’d arrived ahead of the Army-hired movers the Friday before and had only unpacked stuff we needed immediately over the weekend.
The new place was nice if still a work-in-unpacking-progress, a two-story brownstone in a good neighborhood, a couple of blocks from a subway station. We might not have James the Third money, but generals got paid well enough.
Especially when they were as beloved as my dad.
Speaking of, he poked his prematurely gray head around the kitchen doorframe and waved me over. “Come tell me about this gainful employment you’ve supposedly found.”
He sounded like he approved of the idea. I wasn’t so sure he’d be happy when he heard where I was working. The military liked its secrets, and part of my dad’s job was keeping them. He definitely seemed to be doing more and more of it since two years ago and that night in Kansas when the two of us had seen . . . whatever it was we’d seen.
I walked to the kitchen, choosing the right words as I went. But when I reached the doorframe I realized too late that Dad had summoned me into a trap. A second later, a small knee swooped in behind mine, dropping me half to the ground. My little sister, Lucy, erupted into giggles, and then let me up.
“No fair.” I cuffed the pink-cheeked, blond-ponytailed brat on the shoulder. Everyone always said Lucy and Mom looked just alike, blond and fine-featured, while I took after Dad with my dark hair and sharper angles. “I was distracted.”
Lucy crinkled her nose up, her hair swinging back and forth as she shook her head. “I don’t think you’re supposed to admit that. Not in front of Dad.”
“She might be taking the self-defense lessons a little too seriously, Sam,” Mom said from the stove. But she couldn’t have been that concerned, because without even looking over to check out the scuffle, she kept stirring.
I knew Dad had gone to the office today, but he’d been home long enough to change out of his dress uniform with its medals and ribbons. In a crisp polo, the lack of heroic bling left him only a shade less intimidating.
“So, what’s this job you texted about? Do you know if you got it?” he asked.
General Sam Lane cowed lesser mortals—at least those who weren’t his daughters. But the first lesson I ever learned? Never show fear.
I steeled myself in case he fought me on this. He was not a fan of the media, and regularly spent breakfast grumbling over the “slant” of stories in the morning paper.
“It was the luckiest thing,” I said, going over to pick up a wooden spoon and steal a taste of the tomato sauce. “There was a guest speaker at school recruiting people for a new, um, online magazine that the Daily Planet’s doing. For teenagers. I figured, since we’ll be here a while, it’d be a good way to meet new people. Put down roots.” The things he’d said he wanted me to do.
I stole another spoonful of sauce to hide my nervousness.
“The Daily Planet, hmm?” he said.
“It’s called the Daily Scoop,” I said.