Page 98 of Chasing Headlines

“I’d love some, thank you.” I spilled into a chair and made like I was settling in. She raised an eyebrow, but set about filling her electric kettle with water.

“Most people your age are usually in class about this time of day.” She flipped the switch on the kettle. It made a sputtering sound.

“Most are.”

“So, you're skipping today?” A small frown formed between her eyebrows. I wasn't sure why. It wasn't her money.

“Sort of, yeah,” I said with a shrug.

“You’ll just have to make it up later.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

Dotty muttered something that sounded like “smartass”, and turned away. She pulled down a couple of matching floral mugs. Saucers and spoons joined them on the counter. The kettle gurgled and sputtered in the quiet.How do I approach her? What do I want her to tell me?

I sighed and pulled at the fringed edges of her tablecloth. Mrs. P had made it clear that while she did appreciate the help in keeping the newspaper's integrity intact in the face of Rivers's irresponsible ambulance chasing—my words, not hers—she was also less than amused that I didn't have a decent draft of my Founders’ Day article. She'd had that look on her face, again. I didn't dare bring up the Schorr article. “Not that I want to write about him right now, anyway.”

A wispy whistling sound rung out. Dotty switched off the kettle and opened the small carton of tea on the counter. Plunked tea bags into the two cups. Her hands shook just the tiniest bit, and it occurred to me that maybe I should've?—

“You gonna come out and say what the issue is you’ve made up so you'd have some excuse to visit, or you gonna make me guess?” She poured water into the mugs.

There’s the real Dotty. “Maybe guessing would be more fun?”

“Not that difficult. No doubt has something to do with that tall hunk of baseball player working the front desk some nights.”

“Sort of.”

She scowled. “Oh my foot.”

“You have a problem with your foot?” I glanced under the table at her black clogs with the JuicyRox crown embroidered in silver thread as she shuffled to the table.JuicyRox? The trendy teen brand?“I have some ibutab?—”

“You're definitely not Texan.” She squinted at me. “It’s a saying.” She slid the teacup and saucer across the table. “Here, tea. Next time, you bring me something thoughtful. It's the neighborly thing to do.”

I nodded slowly. Blew at the steam hovering over the cup. Waited while she took a sip. Settled my teacup into the saucer, again. “Someone stole tests.”

“What’s that?”

“It was a whole weird thing involving a computer hacker, and they tried to make it look like Coop did it.”

Her cup clattered against the saucer. “He did no such thing.”

“Iknow. And me and my friend, well, we proved it. To the faculty, and the newspaper.”

“That you write for.”

“It wasn't my story. But with Cat's help, we scooped the cyber beat guy. I'm sure I'll pay for it at some point, later. Probably.” I sighed. “But one of the baseball playerswasinvolved—and a trainer. But Schorr, uh, well . . .” I stared at my hands. Laced them together one way, then loosened and knitted my fingers back again.

“I can't trust you. Not now, not ever.”Coach shouted in my brain.

Somehow, I could hear him like he was still in the room. Or, like I was there. God, how'd this get so messed up?

“That pain in the tuckus?” Dotty made a raspberry sound with her tongue and chuckled. “What’s Sourpuss Henry got to do with any of this?”

“His players? They were involved.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, there's that. Henry knows baseball talent. Doesn’t always know good eggs from bad ones. Bit him more than once over the years.”

“He was supposed to help me work on my skills as a scout. But to prove Coop’s innocence, I kinda had to access his computer. In a less than authorized way.”