and ran toward each other, as well.
âSo are you gonna Barbara Walters me or what?â
Natalie looked up to find Simon grinning at her. Immediately, her pulse quickened and her temperature shot up at least five degrees. Heâd been sitting a few seats away and she had hoped, hoped, hoped he would come over and ask to be partners. âYou know Barbara Walters has a habit of getting to the core of the issue,â Natalie warned, waving her index finger reprovingly. âI think she considers it a personal failure if she canât get her guest to burst into tears onscreen.â
She tapped her chin with her forefinger thoughtfully. âOprah, Mike Wallace, Barbara Walters,â she recited. âDoesnât anyone read the news anymore?â
âIs that the resounding yes I was looking for?â
Nat giggled and nodded shyly. âYeah, I was thinking we could do at least one of the interviews in the style of a tabloid. You know, really trashy and pulpy.â
Simon nodded. âAh, high-quality. Maybe Iâll finally be granted that ever-elusive Pulitzer?â
âForget the Pulitzers! Iâm thinking the Post . Sleazier. Hello! You know, like the British gossip rags,â Alyssa said, sidling up to Nat. âWhat do you say, partner?â
The look on Alyssaâs face was expectant and earnest, and Natalie realized with a sinking feeling that her friend expected them to be buddies. And why wouldnât she? They always had been before. Wasnât that why they had signed up for newspaper together in the first place?
Nat glanced a little bit desperately at Simon, who in turn simply coughed and stared off at an imaginary point in the distance. Coward. Nat was on her own.
âOh, ah . . .â Natalie stammered, feeling awkward. âI just . . . itâs just that I . . .â
Alyssaâs gaze traveled from Natalieâs mortified, guilty expression to Simonâs avoidant stare, and back to Natalie again. Her posture went rigid as she realized her mistake. âOh, I got it,â she said. âNever mind.â
âNo, butââ Natalie said, panicking but not sure what she could really say or do. âMaybe we could triple up?â
Alyssa peered at her friend. âNat,â she said sternly. âThere are plenty of people in this elective with us. I will find someone else. Do not sweat it.â
Relief flooded Natalieâs veins. She adored Alyssa, of course, and would have had an amazing time working with her. But she seriously couldnât pass up the opportunity to partner with Simon. It was just so . . . girlfriendly. In a good way.
Besides, she reasoned to herself, he asked you first, didnât he?
Sure, it was a rationalization. But it worked.
âHoroscope, please.â
âCancer . . .â Nat scanned her magazine to find Alyssaâs daily dose of âwoo woo advice,â as she liked to call it. She loved that her friend indulged her obsession with astrology even though she totally didnât believe in it. That was real dedication.
The day after the little interview awkwardness, the two were sitting out free swim, as usual. Another tic of Natalieâs of which Alyssa was uber-tolerant; Nat was a great swimmer but hated to go in the lake. It was just so . . . gloppy and cloudy and non-chlorinated. Who knew what sorts of things were swimming around in there? Yak. The slight weirdness of newspaper was long forgotten, Alyssa being hard at work on a Rolling Stone -esque piece with a goth girl who was also in newspaper and Nat studiously perusing Star and Hello! for inspiration for her interview with Simon. Nat and Alyssa were both so hard at work that their respective notebooks, notes, and first drafts were tossed aside in favor of the fashion magazine that Nat was now brandishing.
âHmm . . . Cancer . . .â she scanned the page. Alyssa was a water sign; it was no wonder she was so creative. âYou . . .