Asking for Trouble: 1 (London Confidential) Read Online Free PDF Page A

article she was working on, and after he answered her, he turned back to me.
    “We don’t really take on interns,” he said. “It’s a bit dodgy. Most of our staff has had some experience, and well, to be honest, the paper isn’t as popular as it once was. Our budget has been cut back. We have the smallest, oldest facility in the school. Our staff doesn’t have a lot of time to develop new writers, and I had to plead to add one more person to the staff already.”
    “I can write though,” I said. “I wouldn’t be trouble at all. I want to help.”
    Jack sat there for a moment before sighing. “I like you, Savvy. I just don’t have a place for you or time to develop a new writer. As it is—” his face turned glum—“there may not be a Wexburg Academy Times for long. Fewer and fewer students read the paper. Computers and texting and online social networks and all that. This may be our last year.”
    “That’s terrible.”
    He nodded his agreement and then snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! Do you really want to help?”
    “Of course!” I said, my hopes soaring. In my mind’s eye, I could see it now. I’d come on staff and write an article about how the lack of newspapers in schools was causing the reading level to go down and was contributing to the dropout rate and how important it was to keep a newspaper at the school. The school staff would be in complete agreement, and the newspaper would be saved. All because of me!
    “Savvy!” Jack’s voice popped the bubble in my imagination. I came back to earth to see him standing a few feet away, next to a big red wagon. I knew all about these kinds of wagons. I’d pulled the screaming baby to the park in one.
    “We need someone to deliver the papers across the campus,” Jack said, waving his hand toward the wagon, which still had a few wet, lonely papers desperately clinging to its insides. “We had someone, but he got detention too many times and was disallowed from school activities. Last week’s edition went out late and was poorly distributed.”
    I stood up, and as I did, I could see Hazelle smirking a few feet away. She stood next to an older girl who frowned at Hazelle. She, too, seemed to be waiting to talk with Jack.
    “Deliver the papers . . . ,” I said. “In the wagon.”
    Jack nodded enthusiastically. “You’d still be officially on staff. You could sit with us at the lunch table, you know, listen in on the conversations, pick up on newspaper business around the office.”
    “I’d give you the odd tip here and there,” the older girl said to me.
    “Thanks, Melissa.” Jack flashed that smile at her and then at me. How could I refuse that smile?
    At least it was a foot in the door, right? Melissa seemed nice. And I didn’t want to give Hazelle the satisfaction of seeing me humiliated, though that might not have been the best motivation.
    “Can I give you my answer later today?” I said. I wanted time to think, and to pray.
    “Sure,” Jack said. “Leave your contact information, and I’ll be in touch by the end of the day. Cheerio.” Then someone called to him from across the room. I heard the first bell ring and knew I needed to get to class within three minutes. I turned to say good-bye, but they were already deep in deadline talk.
    I felt crushed. I’d done the right thing—told the truth—but it hadn’t paid off for me. I looked longingly over the newsroom, wishing I could roll up my sleeves and find that fresh angle along with the rest of them. Not deliver the papers. Distracted, I scribbled down my info and left it on Jack’s desk before making my way to maths . . . with Hazelle.

Chapter 12

    “I’m home,” I called out as I walked in the door after school and threw my book bag into the corner. Growl came running around the corner. He had a piece of paper stuck to one of his teeth, and when I got close to him, I noticed he smelled like vanilla body mist. “What have you been into?” I asked, and then,