Late Edition

8/13/2019 Late Edition

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S i mo n S po t l ig h t

Ne w Yo r k Lo ndo n To ro n to S y

d ne y Ne w De l h i

b y R AC H E L W I S E

La t e Ed i t io n


3/24

I f yo u p u r c hased t h is boo k w i t ho u t a

co ve r, yo u s ho u ld be a wa re t ha t

t h is boo k

is s to le n p ro pe r t y. I t was re p

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u nso ld a nd des t ro yed to t he p

u b l is he r,

a nd ne i t he r t he a u t ho r no r t he p

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has r ece i ved a n y pa y me n t

fo r t h is

s t r i p ped boo k.

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wo r k o f c t io n. A n y

r e fe re nces to h is to r ica l e ve n ts, rea l

peo p le, o r rea l p laces a re used c

t i t io us l y.

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i mag i na t io n, a nd a n y rese m b l

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S I MO N S P O T L IG H T

A n i m p r i n t o f S i mo n & Sc h us te

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C h a p t e r 1 S U B U R BA N T E E N D I E S O F S L E E P

D E P R I VA T IO N !

I ro l led o ve r a nd s ta red a t t he c lo

c k ne x t to m y

bed. T he n u m be rs cas t a b lood re

d g lo w ac ross

bo t h t he co m p u te r a nd t he e m p t y d ie t co la ca n o n

m y beds ide ta b le. I t was 1: 05 a. m

. I q u ic k l y d id

t he ma t h i n m y head fo r t he te n t h

t i me t ha t n ig h t:

M y a la r m w i l l go o f f a t 6:15, w h ic h

mea ns i f I fa l l

as lee p ri gh t thi s v

e r y s e cond, I w i l l s t i l l ge t o n l y

ve ho u rs a nd te n m i n u tes o f s lee p.

W h ic h is no t e no ug h.

I s ig hed hea v i l y a nd o p ped o n m y

bac k to s ta re

a t t he ce i l i ng. I d read a n a r t ic le a

fe w mo n t hs ago

o n H u f ng to n Pos t a bo u

t tee nage rs a nd ho w t he i r

i n te r na l c loc ks a re o u t o f w hac k w i t h t he res t o f

soc ie t y. I g uess a lo t o f s t ud ies ha ve

bee n do ne a nd


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teenagers bodies need to stay up late and sleeplate. (Like I did this morning. Blissful eleven-oclock Sunday-morning sleep-in!) Its some kindof adaptation that has developed over thousands ofyears. Maybe I should pitch an article to Mr. Trigg,our school newspaper advisor, on teenage sleeppatterns. That could be good. I ipped on my lamp,wincing at the brightness, and reached for my lap-top to e-mail the idea to myself. (My trusty note-book was already packed in my messenger bag andI didnt feel like getting up to get it.) After closingthe computer, I switched off the lamp and settledback under the covers with a sigh, waiting for sleepto come. I sighed again loudly and uffed my pil-low. Nothing.

Suburban Teen Dies of Sleep Deprivation!I wondered how fast it could happen.At some point I mustve fallen asleep, but it

was well after one thirty, because that was the lasttime I remember doing my sleep math.

Sammy, sweetheart, youre going to be late if youdont get up right now! My mom sounded stressed.

Dear Know-It-All2


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Yeah, sweetheart! sang out my sister, Allie,passing by my roomwhile texting, Im sure.

I groaned and thought about how I keepmeaning to wear clean school clothes to bed soall I have to do is roll out and brush my teeth.Tonight. For sure.

Just put your feet on the oor. Once youreup and moving, it will be a whole lot better. Ipromise, said my mom, watching me with foldedarms from her perch in the doorway.

I did as she said and mentally reviewed myday, trying to gure out the soonest moment Icould get some shut-eye, even if it was just a napin the library. But I have a newspaper meeting, Imhelping my BFF, Hailey Jones, with her English

essay after school (shes a dyslexic math whiz, andI love to write and hate mathwe are a perfectmatch), and I need to sneak by my mailbox in thenewspaper ofce at some point to see if there areany letters for my column, Dear Know-It-All. I

sighed heavily and stood up.Okay, Mom. Im up and its not better! I

called, but she had already left.

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Allie walked by going the other way now, fullydressed, laughing into her phone.

What kind of people talk on the phone at thishour of the day? I grumbled under my breath.

And Allie, who never hears me when I speakdirectly to her, managed to catch my snide com-ment and threw back, Busy people with lots offriends, thats who!

I rolled my eyes and began to get dressed. Ihave lots of friends! I called back, but of courseshe didnt hear me.

My mom was a little bit right, in that once my daywas under way, I wasnt as tired as Id been allsnuggled under my down comforter. Getting up in

the morning is kind of like writing on deadline.You dread it, and its hard to get started, but onceyou get going, everything just ows. Thats how itis for me anyway. Maybe not for Hailey, though.

We were at lunch and Hailey was fake banging

her head against the table.But why do we care what Mr. Rochester

thinks?

Dear Know-It-All4


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Its the whole point of the book, Hailey, Ireplied, weary now of the argument and my day.And I just know thats what Mr. Taylor is lookingfor in your essay on Jane Eyre.

Hailey looked forlornly into space. Then shesighed. Okay. Okay, Ill do it. I guess.

I had to chuckle. Its not like you have achoice, Hails. Its the assignment.

Hailey ashed a mischievous grin at me. Ican actually get out of certain assignments. OrI can do them differently if I want. Its part ofmy ISP.

ISP means Independent Study Plan, whichHailey gets because of her dyslexia. She also getsa tutor, but she prefers working with me so she

cancels the tutor a lot.Hmm, maybe I should get an ISP so I canwrite an essay for the math exam! I giggled.

Haileys eyebrows went up at the suggestion.Great idea! I can help you! Heres what you need

to do. . . .Kidding! I said. What I really need is an

ISP to have my day start later. I cant get to sleep

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at night, and its driving me crazy!Why? asked Hailey, picking up a glazed

doughnut from her tray and chewing thoughtfully.Haileys mom is a health nut so in Hailey she hascreated a junk-food nut.

Well . . . it all started with midterms. I hadtwo huge exams and an article, and Oops! Icaught myself just as I was about to say My col-umn! No one, and I mean no one (not even mybest friend) knows that I am Dear Know-It-All!Just me, my mom, and the faculty advisor to thepaper, Mr. Trigg. And . . . I dont know, some-thing else. But I stayed up late a bunch of nightsin a row, and it was like my body got adjusted tothis new time clock and then I couldnt reset it.

Like suddenly you were living in the wrongtime zone? asked Hailey.Sort of. I shrugged. Im just wired at eleven

oclock at night, and I should be sacked out.Huh, said Hailey with a shrug. I never

have any sleep problems. I pass out at night andpop up at the same time every morning. I dontknow why!

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Well, youre lucky, I grouched.Whos lucky? asked a husky voice over my

shoulder.My ears tingled. My heart raced. It was Michael

Lawrence, the one true love of my lifepeanutbutter to my jelly, Mario to my Luigi, Romeo tomy Juliet!

Hey, I said coolly, revealing nothing of thedrama going on inside my heart.

Ready to go to the meeting? he asked.Hailey slumped in her seat and did a fake

pout. Youre always stealing her from me! shewhined.

Hey, I cant help it if Im charming! jokedMichael.

Duty calls, I said in a resigned voice,standing up and gathering my things.Duty? said Michael, mock outraged.Hailey and I exchanged a private smile. She

knew there was nothing Id rather do than hang

out with Michael Lawrence, and she is prettymuch okay with that.

A voice came from the other direction. Hey,

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Hails, cute shirt! Mind if I join you?I looked up. It was Molly Grant, a seventh

grader I know a little. I felt immediately better.As much as Hailey doesnt mind me taking off, atleast now I wouldnt be leaving her at the table allalone.

But Hailey jumped up. Uh, sorry . . . , shemuttered. We were just leaving.

As I walked away, I glanced back at Mollysface and saw she was hurt. I felt bad, but now I wasin a bit of a rush and, anyway, it wasnt my prob-lem. As Hailey fell into step next to me on our wayto deposit our lunch trays, I said quietly, Whatwas that all about? Where do you need to be?

Hailey huffed in exasperation. That girl

drives me nuts! There is no way Im going to sitthere with her while you leave.I think she seems nice, I said, because I do.Well, thats because she isnt constantly

appearing next to you, wearing exactly what you

wore yesterday.I looked at Hailey in confusion. What do you

mean?

Dear Know-It-All8


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She copies me constantly! I wear red high-tops; she shows up the next day in brand-newred high-tops. I cut the sleeves off a T-shirt andlayer it, and she does the same the next week. Itsdriving me insane!

Hmm. I dont blame you, but I cant reallyget into this now. I glanced at Michael, who waswaiting in the cafeteria doorway. He was chattingwith Kate Bigley, whom I always worry he secretlylikes.

More on this later. Gotta go. Sorry, I said.Okay, bye. Hailey sighed. Good luck.I smiled and raced off.

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C h a p t e r 2 DO U B L E L I F E E X HA U S T S

J O U R NA L I S T ;

S EC R E T S A R E W EA R I NG H E R

DO W N

M ic hae l a nd I a r r i ved a t t he ne ws

pa pe r o f ce

w i t h a fe w m i n u tes to s pa re. We se t t led i n to

o u r us ua l f ro n t- ro w s po t o n t he l

o w-s l u ng lo ve

sea t a nd wa ved he l lo to o u r co l l

eag ues as t he y

a r r i ved.

A n y ideas to p i tc h? I as ked M i

c hae l. I

s t re tc hed a nd t he n ga ve a b ig ya w n as I re la xed

i n to t he l i t t le co uc h.

No t h i ng p ress i ng, he sa id. Yo u

?

I . . . o h . . . I co ve red m y ga p i ng

ya w n w i t h

bo t h ha nds. I was t h i n k i ng o f p i tc h i ng a n a r t

ic le

o n k ids a nd s lee p.


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Looks like you could use some, Sleepy, heteased.

I rolled my eyes. Ever since Michael caughtme tasting paste in kindergarten, he has called mePasty or some variation on the -y nickname,like Trippy if I trip over something or Snackyif Im hungry.

Oh, shush, Mikey! I growled back, using hisfamily nickname as retaliation.

He grinned, his bright blue eyes twinkling andhis dimples deepening. My heart uttered even asI wanted to slap him.

Id work on that with you, if you want, heoffered.

Good, I said. Lets see if Trigger likes it.

How do you think the paper has been lookinglately? asked Michael, just making idle chitchat.Pretty good! I think were hitting our stride for

the year. The new kids are up to speed, the editorin chief seems to know what shes doing now, and

Ive liked a lot of the articles lately. What do youthink?

I totally agree. Michael nodded. Its looking

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pretty tight. The only thing . . . well . . . Hepaused, like he didnt want to say something.

What? Is it me? Am I not doing well?No! Oh no. Sorry. Not you. I was just thinking

of Dear Know-It-All, whoever that is.Oh. I tried to play it really cool. Yeah. Who

is that? I looked at him with what I hoped was asuspicious expression, as if I suspected it might behim. Michael looked back at me steadily. I alwaysthink he knows its me, but then hell do somethingthat indicates otherwise. He continued. I justthink the Dear Know-It-All answers have been alittle rushed lately. Like theyve been shorter thanusual and not as much fun to read, you know?Maybe not as much effort put into them.

I nodded, acting cool, while inside I wasraging. Do you think its easy to come up with good questions from the piles of junk kids submitevery week? Do you have any idea how hard it isto be diplomatic and not say anything the school

wouldnt like, while still providing a meaty enoughanswer? Id like to see you try to nd the time to

write this column and do a good job each issue,

Dear Know-It-All12


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Mr. Smarty-Pants! Instead, I said, Huh. Maybeyou should tell Mr. Trigg so he can pass that onto whoever writes the column. Then I gulped.Luckily, Michael wasnt looking at me right then.

Yeah, Ive been meaning to, said Michael. I just dont want to get old Know-It-All in trouble.

Oh. Good point. Well . . . maybe put the wordout to all the people you think are . . . the likelywriters of it? I said innocently.

I am, said Michael, looking me square in theeye. I looked away uneasily.

Good luck with that, I said quietly.Hello, my wonderful scribes! trilled Mr. Trigg,

entering the room in a rush, his briefcase on hisarm and his trademark green-and-blue striped scarf

oating out behind him. I apologize for my delay!The new installment in the Churchill biography wasreleased today, and I wanted to be the rst on lineat the bookstore to get it. I lined up at eight a.m. soId be there when they opened the doors! So excit-

ing! He opened his briefcase and withdrew anenormously thick book and waved it about by wayof explanation. Ill pass it round so everyone can

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take a look. Oh, how long Ive been waiting for thisday! Its like Christmas and my birthday all rolledinto one!

We all laughed. Mr. Trigg is obsessed withWinston Churchill and manages to work him intonearly every conversation. Lucky for us journal-ists, Churchill was a pretty inspiring guy.

Mr. Trigg, how long was the line? At thebookstore? called Jeff Perry, the newspapersphotographer and one of Michaels best friends.

Er . . . The line? Well, the wait was quitetedious, Ill say, but well worth it! Mr. Trigglaughed.

Evading a question in front of a roomful ofbudding journalists is never a good idea.

What was the exact head count on the line,Mr. Trigg? called Michael.Maybe we should call the bookstore? Get

them as a source? suggested Kate Bigley fromacross the room.

Mr. Trigg knew when he was being teased, andhe has a great sense of humor. Shaking his headfrom side to side, he looked up from the table and

Dear Know-It-All14


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put his hands in the air. All right, all right. I sup-pose my enthusiasm was greater than that of manyof my fellow Cherry Valley residents. Either thator the majority of Churchill fans are late sleepers.But you can never be too safe in these crowdlikesituations.

Was there anyone else on the line besidesyou, Mr. Trigg? asked Michael, and everyonelaughed.

Mr. Trigg sighed. It grieves me, the state ofintellectualism in this country, and I hope you willall grow up to do something about it.

Answer the question! called Jim Peavy,another writer, from across the room.

You win. Alas, it was only I. Mr. Trigg

hung his head, clasping his folded hands to hisheart, and everyone burst into applause. And inthe words of my mentor, the great man himself,Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.Now, let this meeting come to order!

Everyone was charged up and grinning. It wasa great way to start the meeting. We all felt like ateam. Everyone felt smart and energized, and it

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really paid off. We were ready to work.I pitched my article on sleep, and Trigger liked

it. He wasnt sure there was enough meat on it forme and Michael to share it, and for a moment Ipanicked that wed be separated. But he thoughtfor a minute and then assigned us a sidebar boxon general teen health tips and said we could dothe two together. Phew.

When Mr. Trigg was going down his column listasking for feedback, he passed over Dear Know-It-All, and I nudged Michael, as if to say, Speak up.But Michael shook his head, whispering, I dontwant to embarrass the columnist.

Well, that was thoughtful anyway, and at leastId covered myself by suggesting he announce his

concerns, or I think I did anyway. I can never besure. Double Life Exhausts Journalist; Secrets

Are Wearing Her Down.In case its you, I added under my breath,

and Michael smiled and rolled his eyes.After the meeting adjourned, Michael and

I agreed to brainstorm and do a little Internet

Dear Know-It-All16


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17

research on sleep, and then wed get back togetherto work on it. I headed out the newspaper ofcedoor to earthonomics (aka science class), andwhen I glanced down the hall, I was lucky enoughto spot Hailey up ahead in her trademark jean

jacket with the red stripe down the back.Hails! I called, but she didnt turn around.

Hailey! Hailey Jones! Nothing. I was pretty sureshe could hear me. I jogged down the hall to catchup. Hailey? I said.

But when the girl turned, it wasnt Hailey. Itwas Molly Grant, wearing an identical jacket.

Oh! Im so sorry! I thought you were Hailey!I said, laughing as my face pinkened.

You did? gushed Molly. Oh, what a

compliment! Thank you so much!Okay, that was so not the reaction I wasexpecting. Um . . . youre welcome?

You just made my day! said Molly, and shecontinued happily on down the hall, leaving me

standing there dumbfounded. I thought aboutHailey and I cringed. She would not be happywhen she heard about this.

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In class, we got our tests backthe one I fellasleep studying for at midnight last weekand Igot a C. It was such a bummer, I felt sick. It wasntlike I had tried my very best, because it wouldstink to get a C under those circumstances, but itwas just that I knew I wouldnt have had the timeto even try to do better.

Dr. Shenberg, the earthonomics teacher, saidif anyone did badly on the test and wanted toimprove their grade-point average, they could doa poster for the science fair and receive up to tenextra points for their grade. Obviously, I was oneof the people that announcement was directed at,but when the heck was I going to nd the timeto do a science fair poster on top of everything

else? ACK!

By the time the nal bell rang that day, I was beatand stressed and I still had to pick up some DKIAletters, tutor Hailey, do my own homework, and

start a little research for my article. Oh yeah, andthink up a science fair poster topic.

I grabbed a soda from the vending machine

Dear Know-It-All18


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and chugged it, feeling the sugar surge almostimmediately and praying for the caffeine to kickin. All I really wanted to do, though, was go homeand take a nap.

I popped into the empty newspaper ofce,locked the door, and spirited my letters out ofthe DKIA mailbox without getting caught. Phew.Then I went out to meet Hailey at the bike rack.

Okay, weird story for you, I said by way ofgreeting. Then I proceeded to tell Hailey aboutmy interaction with Molly Grant in the hall.

Hailey banged her palm down on thehandlebars of her bike as she walked it along.You see? Thats what Im talking about! That girlcopies every single thing I do! My haircut, my

clothing, my bike, even the way I drew my nameon my binder! Its so annoying!Huh. Quick! What would Dear Know-It-All

say? I wondered. Well . . . you know my momalways says Imitation is the sincerest form of

attery. Its a compliment. She looks up to youand wants to be just like you!

Hailey scoffed. My mom said that too, but it

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really bugs me. Also because I do things and thenshe gets credit for them, like the way I drew onmy sneakers, or how I put the air freshener in mygym locker, stuff like that. Then all the kids say,Oh, Molly! Thats so cute! or, Oh, Molly, youreso smart! when it was me all along! Plus I am anindividual. I dont like to think theres another oneof me walking around, you know?

Yeah. Actually, I can really see how annoyingit is. I tried to think of a solution. Have youever confronted her about it? I asked.

As if! huffed Hailey. Like, Hi, Im so greatand I know you copy me, so stop! Can you picturethat? Id get a reputation as the vainest person atschool!

Well, Mollys only in the seventh grade, so Idoubt it would go much further than her class . . . ,I joked.

Dont joke. Its not funny, ordered Hailey.Sorry.

Maybe make yourself unlikable? Or do stuffthats so out there it will be obvious to everyonethat shes copying you and maybe other people

Dear Know-It-All20


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will call her out on it and shell get embarrassedand stop? I joked.

Like what? said Hailey in all seriousness.Hailey, I was kidding, I said.Seriously, it just might work. Ill brainstorm,

said Hailey. She reached out to give me a sidewayssqueeze. You always give the best advice! shesaid, cheerful now. Im telling you, they pickedthe wrong person to write those Dear Know-It-Allanswers, whoever they are!

I gulped and forced a smile onto my face.Yeah! I agreed heartily.

Best Friend Lies Continuously to Best Friend; Ulcers Inevitable.

21LATE EDITION

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