Fame, Fate, and the First Kiss(28)

“Donavan,” the teacher said, as if reading my mind.

I opened my mouth to respond when a deep voice to my right said, “Yes?”

“Why don’t you show this young lady the department?”

I swallowed hard and followed the teacher’s gaze to a side office that I hadn’t seen from the door. Donavan sat at a desk, flipping through some printed-out pages.

“She’s a writer,” the teacher continued.

I could tell Donavan didn’t recognize me yet. He was kind of far away and . . . I wasn’t a zombie. I wasn’t one to get embarrassed easily, but I could feel that my cheeks were pink. Why was I blushing?

“That’s okay,” I quietly said to the teacher and took one step back. “I see that he’s busy.”

Donavan had put the pages on the desk and stood. I suddenly understood the flight instinct he’d had the other night. But I couldn’t run. What if he recognized me? Instead, I channeled all my acting abilities and willed my face to normal.

“Hey there, Choir Boy,” I said when he was in front of me.





Twelve


“Lacey?” His eyes danced over my face.

“Hey, I finished the packet, so I dropped it off to Mrs. Case.”

“Oh. Great. That will save me a trip.”

“Yes, exactly.”

The journalism teacher stood. He was shorter than he’d looked sitting down. “Sounds like you two know each other. Can you show her the department, Donavan? She’s a writer.”

“Sure.”

I hoped he’d show me some of his work, but he walked toward the hall door, preventing me from studying the board.

When we were out in the hall and the door shut behind us, he said, “You’re not a writer.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m an aspiring journalist.”

“Are you?”

“No. But I’d make a good investigative reporter. For example, today I found out at least three Donavans go to your school. Three! How is that possible?”

“It’s a big school.”

“With a lot of Irish heritage?”

“One of the Donavans is black.”

“The guitar player or the football player?”

“What?”

“Or the one with the little sister?”

“Are you stalking Donavans?”

“That would make a good movie title.”

His eyes sparkled as if he really did find me amusing and was trying his hardest to pretend he didn’t. I’d never had to win anyone over like this and I had to admit, it made the small victories more satisfying.

I glanced around the empty hall. “So does the tour end here? Your teacher told me you would show me the department. I feel like this isn’t happening. I’m going to make a report to Taylor that you are a horrible tour guide. I’m moving on to the next Donavan.”

He looked at the palm of his hand and picked at a streak of black ink there. “Did your dad tell you I was a writer?”

“No. Why? Was it on your tutoring résumé?”

“No. I just . . . never mind.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “Do you really want to see the rest of the department?”

“Absolutely. I’ve been told all about this thing called a printing press. Where does it live?”

He pointed at a door across the hall, then led the way. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“It’s because you’re not holding an empty homework packet in your hand and expecting me to get it done in an inhuman amount of time.”

“Three hours is hardly inhuman. I think my little sister can get it done faster than you.”

“So you do have a little sister. How old is she?”

“Freshman.”

I rolled my eyes. “You made it seem like she was five. I am no longer offended at you telling me she can finish homework faster than me.”

He stopped outside a door. “Are you ready?”

“Is something shocking going to happen when we go inside?”

He smirked and opened the door. The press was bigger than I expected, with lots of metal bars and handles.

“I totally chose the wrong electives when I was in school. If I went here next semester, I would take whatever the class is that gets to operate this beauty. Do you run this?”

“Sometimes. So you’re saying you wouldn’t take drama?”

“Of course I would. I wouldn’t take math.”

He laughed. “Not sure you can trade math for journalism.”

“I’ll be Lacey Barnes. Famous. They’ll let me do what I want, right?”

“Pretty sure most people already let you do what you want.”

“If that were true, you’d be doing my homework packets for me.” I turned and gave him my best pleading eyes. “It’s not too late for that to happen.”

“Funny.” He watched me walk around the machine twice. “Are you going to go here next semester? When you’re done filming?”

“No, I’m going to finish out my senior year at home.” I wondered if he cared. Why did I care if he cared? I ran my finger along a black knob. “We should print something. A paper that says, Lacey Barnes is the next big thing. That’s some hard-hitting news.”