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“Have you talked to your father about this?”
He laughed. There was no mirth in it. “What father?” he said.
“The one you care so much about that you’d come down here and talk to the meanest reporter in town.”
He smiled a little at that. “You’re not mean. He’s not around much. He’s – I understand, really – it’s important to him to win. But he doesn’t have time to sleep, let alone talk to me. He’s really worn out.”
“He should be proud of you. You care about your friends and your family. You strike me as being a good-hearted person.”
“He doesn’t think so. He doesn’t want people to know about me. I don’t know. It’s because of the way I dress – at least, that’s what my mom says. I guess I’m no different from Sammy. I sort of rebel against him. But I really do like to wear black.”
“Can’t help you with that, Jacob. You’re in one of the world’s oldest struggles there. What do you think I can help you with?”
“Could you tell people I’m not a witch?”
“It will seem pretty odd if I do that before anyone has said you are.”
“It’s going to happen. I – can you keep a secret?”
“Most secrets. If they won’t hurt anyone, or compromise the paper. But just because I’m a reporter doesn’t mean you can’t trust me with a confidence.”
“I have a friend who – who works for the Montgomery campaign. We don’t usually talk about politics. But when my friend saw this flyer about me being a witch – well, that’s how I found out. I don’t want to get my friend in trouble.”
“Girlfriend?”
He turned red again. “Please don’t ask me any more about it, okay? I’ve told you too much already.”
He acted as if he was going to leave. “Hold on, hold on,” I said. “I won’t tell anyone about your friend.” He looked at me as if he were trying to decide if he could trust me. Apparently I passed the test, because he sat back down again.
“Look, Jacob, all I can do is try to find out if this piece is really going to be mailed out, and if it is, I’ll do what I can to balance the coverage so that your side of the story gets told. It would help if I could get some kind of quote from your friend Sammy. Do you think she would talk to me?”
“If I went with you, she might.”
“Is she playing hooky today, too?”
“Naw, she’s in school. They try to make sure kids go to school if they stay at the shelter. It’s a rule.”
“What time will she be out of school?”
“Two-thirty.”
“Okay, so, would she be back at the shelter by three?”
“I could go back to school – you know, tell them I’m feeling better. I’ll find her and ask her to meet us there if you want.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you there at three.” I pulled out a card and gave it to him. “Call me here at the paper if you need to cancel.”
He took it and read it over. “Okay,” he said.
“Do you have any idea of how Montgomery’s people knew you’d be out at this witch shindig?”
“No.”
“Any chance your friend at the Montgomery campaign might have told them?”
“No!”
“Okay, okay, take it easy. Did you tell anyone else? Or could anyone have overheard you talking about it?”
“I didn’t tell anyone. But I did have a big argument at the shelter with Sammy. Maybe someone heard us. I don’t know. The walls are kind of thin, and there are always a lot of kids hanging out there.”
“One other thing. How are you at taking advice from old fogeys?”
“Depends on the advice, I guess, and the old fogey.”
“Well, let’s say this old fogey.”
“Try me. You’re not real old.”
“Thanks, I guess. I really don’t have any business sticking my nose in, so it’s just between the two of us, okay?”
“Okay.”
“It’s just something to think about. The way I figure it, if you’re concerned enough about your dad’s campaign to come here and talk to me, maybe you’re concerned enough to fight a little of the fire Montgomery plans on setting.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’ll be using your appearance – the black clothes and black hair – to promote his ideas in people’s minds. Trust me on this – I used to work in public relations. In fact, a pal of mine named Kevin Malloy could make you an expert in this kind of stuff. People will try to place you in a box – the box you seem most likely to fit in. Those that get to know you, even for as short a time as I have, will doubt you could ever fit in a box labeled ‘witch.’ But those that don’t know you are only going to have what Montgomery says and any pictures of you they see in the paper. And believe me, there will be a picture in the paper if this comes out.”
He groaned.
“Anyway, you have every right to wear whatever clothes you want to wear, or to dye your hair pink, if you want to. But there’s a price for everything. Ask yourself if it’s worth it to change your image for a few days.”
“That sounds a lot like selling out.”
“Maybe. But again, ask yourself what set of principles you’re selling out to. The set that doesn’t want to bring harm to others, or the one that says you’re free to make any fashion statement you choose. It’s up to you. No skin off my nose.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“What do you say we get some fresh air?”
“Yeah, I’m suffocating in here.”
As we stood up, we heard the throbbing sound of the presses as they started up. Da
He shook Da
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m still scared about it, but I guess I feel like maybe there’s something I can do about it.”
“I’ll see you at three.”
“Okay.” He turned to leave. I had started up the stairs when I heard him call out to me.
“Miss Kelly?”
I turned around.
“What kind of classes should I take if I want to work here?”
“Journalism and English are good starting points. You have a school paper at Las Piernas High. Try to get on it.”
“I think I will. Bye.”
He moved out of the building with a little more energy than he had shown in the halls, and I found myself bounding up the stairs. I don’t often encounter young people – my God, I was old enough to call them young people – in my work, and there was something refreshing about spending time with Jacob. As I entered the newsroom, my mood was shot down by a booming voice filled to the brim with sarcasm.
“Well, good morning, Miss Kelly! Nice of you to join us!”
“Good morning, John. I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here with you.”
4
JOHN WALTERS, my news editor, sauntered over to me. “That cop boyfriend of yours keeping you up too late at night?”
“I came in at seven-thirty this morning. You can check that with Geoff.”
“So where the hell have you been since then? The ladies’ room?”
“No, John, I was interviewing someone. And not in the ladies’ room.”
“Really? At seven-thirty in the morning? Who is this early bird?”
“Sorry. For the moment I’m not free to say. I’ll probably be able to tell you more this afternoon.”
He stared at me. His face was red, and I could see the veins in his neck and forehead. “Come into my office,” he said gruffly.
I followed him across the newsroom, which had fallen silent in the wake of our exchange. As I watched his huge behind waddle in front of me, I wondered what bug could have possibly crawled up it so early in the day.
He opened the office door, ushered me in with a mocking bow, turned to the newsroom, and shouted “Work, damn it!” at the top of his lungs. Then he slammed the door shut so hard everything on his desk jumped.