Asking for Trouble: 1 (London Confidential) by Sandra Byrd Read Free Book Online

they wanted to ask but didn’t have anywhere—or anyone—confidential enough to ask?
    I began to get so excited that I lost all appetite for the shrimp, even though they were good.
    I had a smashing idea.
    What if the column were published in the Wexburg Academy Times ? People would totally read it. And once they opened the paper, well, they’d probably read other things inside it too. Right?
    I’d definitely talk to Jack about this. Tomorrow. I had the right name for the column too.
    Dear Auntie Savannah. No, I wasn’t old enough to be an Aunt .
    Okay. Dear Cousin Savvy. No, not quite right.
    Well, it didn’t matter. We’d figure that out. Because surely when Jack saw what a great idea this was, he’d let me write it. It would only be fair.

Chapter 17

    That night at the dinner table Louanne asked, “So, Sav, do you have an article in today’s paper? I noticed you brought a bunch home in your bag.”
    Oh yeah. I had forgotten to drop off the extra papers at the newspaper office at the end of the day.
    “I noticed that too,” Mom said eagerly.
    I grimaced. They thought I’d brought the extras home because I had an article to share. And copies to FedEx to Grandma and Auntie Tricia and everyone else who would be happy I’d at last found a place to belong here.
    I took a deep breath. “I didn’t have enough experience to be a staff writer. I deliver the newspapers.”
    “Deliver the papers?” Dad asked, his voice incredulous. Mom gave him the stink eye. “I mean, oh yes, good, you deliver the papers.”
    “Yes,” I said softly. “I only deliver them. So we don’t need to send these to anyone in Seattle. Maybe we can wrap up some fish-and-chips with them, though.”
    “I’m so sorry,” Mom said and put her arm around me. Even Growl looked down at the ground, silent for once. I gave my mom a hug back and then dragged myself upstairs.
    Jack had to like my idea.

Chapter 18

    I looked for Jack before school the next morning. I mean, I didn’t chase all over asking people where he was. I didn’t want to look like a stalker. But I did really look, because I knew my idea was a winner.
    I didn’t find him, so I’d have to wait for lunch. I looked at my watch. Three and a half long, long hours.
    First period, maths. “Now, let’s follow along,” the instructor said. I tried to follow along with what he was saying, honestly I did. But most of the time I couldn’t get over the fact that he had a really large mole on his cheek, and I wondered if it had been checked for cancer.
    Concentrate, Savvy. It’s not going to do you any good to fail out of maths. People with failing grades couldn’t participate in clubs, even to deliver the paper.
    I dutifully copied the equations the teacher was writing on the board. I sneaked a look at Hazelle, who was sitting two rows to my left. She was writing in ink, of all things. And I knew why. So she could use her Wexburg Academy Times pen. Only people who wrote for the newspaper got to use the pen. The printers didn’t get a pen. The photographer didn’t get a pen.
    For sure, the delivery girl didn’t get a pen. Columnists did, though.
    Second period, health. I’m not exactly sure who thought it would be a good idea to have both guys and girls in the same health class, but looking at pictures of the body—even though it was only muscle and bone and nothing personal at all—was still really, really awkward in mixed company. I should address the topic in a Dear Cousin Savvy column. Without pointing fingers, of course. Maybe I’d write a dummy column from a pretend student who wanted separate health classes.
    Nah. Dummy columns weren’t good, honest journalism. One more class and then lunch—and Jack!
    “Miss Smith!” the teacher called out to me. “Care to come back down to earth?”
    Guess my boredom showed.
    Third period, science. With an instructor who spoke in a thick Scottish accent and said things like, “Oon is the doon of Magoon.” I had no idea