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Since You Asked by Maureen Goo

CHAPTER THREE

TOP TEN UNCONVENTIONAL WAYS TO GAIN POPULARITY!

You are my hero.”

 

        I shut my locker to see David holding up the latest issue of The Weasel Times.

 

He was laughing.

“This is not funny, D.”I snatched the paper out of his hands.

“Come on, it’s funny. Nobody knew who you were yesterday, and now you’re famous!”

 

“But I don’t want to be famous!” I whined.

David leaned against the lockers. “Why didn’t you tell me about this, anyway? If I’d known I was going to start Monday with this awesome piece of high-quality journalism, I would have actually been on time for homeroom.”

At that moment, a beautiful senior girl three bra sizes larger than me walked by and muttered, “Bitch.”

My mouth dropped open and I looked at David.  “Did you hear that?” I hissed.

A flash of anger crossed his face, but then he waved his hand dismissively. “Typical, low-life lemming behavior. Don’t sweat it.”

I felt a lump in my throat as I watched the senior walk away nonchalantly. Then I looked around at everyone hanging out by their lockers for other signs of hostility. It was almost second period, so at this point I was guessing a lot of people had seen my column already. The Weasel Times was really popular, and we were always eager to do anything but listen to announcements during homeroom.

Carrie came running toward me at break neck speed, clutching a copy of the newspaper to her chest. She stopped and leaned over for a second, out of breath, before panting, “Oh my God, tell me this is a joke?”

I bit my lip and wanted to die for the hundredth time that day.“ Well. It was a mistake.”

Swatting her sweat-dampened hair out of her eyes, Carrie stared at me long and hard. “What do you mean, a mistake? People are going to kill you for this. Like, seriously kill you. Like, they are going to throw stuff at you and then like, beat you, and then, like—”

“I GET IT.  See, I copyedited this other column by Stephanie Gonzales, but I did it as a joke and I must have  submitted the wrong version to our stupid stoner designer....” I trailed off.

 “So has anyone tried to kill you yet?” Carrie asked, looking  a little worried.

 

“No. But the day is young. Also, this senior girl just called me a bitch.”

Carrie’s face turned bright red and she whipped her head around, eyes blazing. “WHO? She better show her damn face and know who she’s dealing with!”

She may be the daughter of two tree-hugging hippies, but Carrie has one mean temper if provoked. Once, in third grade, she pushed a boy off a swing because he was hogging it. And in eighth grade she was suspended one day for kicking a girl who had pushed Liz into the grass during PE.

“Thanks, but if you try to beat up everyone who hates me today...well, I dunno. You’d be tired.”

I feebly said good-bye to David and Carrie and walked to my history class, where Liz was waiting, holding the paper gingerly in her hands.

Silence.

“I know,” I said wearily.

“You should hire me to do your PR. How else do you expect to survive high school?”

 

At the beginning of class I dodged a few dirty looks. But what’s weird is that I also got the vibe that some people were actually being nice to me. Was there something sinister lurking behind their smiles? Or could they have possibly liked my accidental column?

A girl sitting to my left, who had never said two words to me before, leaned over and said, “Sweet piece in the paper. The funniest thing ever!”

I blinked and shook my head quickly, like a dog.

“Seriously?!” I whispered furtively.

 

Before she could answer, I was shushed loudly by this goody two-shoes named Caroline, who was sitting to my right. I made a face at her and snapped my head back to attention.

I tried to keep my mind on the history lesson—something about the French Revolution. Man, those revolutionaries were brutal. I mean, who doesn’t hate rich people who eat cake all day? But head chopping was taking it a little too far, in my opinion. Anyway.

My thoughts wandered back to my accidental column, and I snuck a glance at the girl on myl eft. (I didn’t even know her name!)

Hm, a fan. Something I did not anticipate.

 

A few minutes into Mr. Reilly’s lesson, someone walked into the class and handed him a note. Everyone started murmuring excitedly in that way high school kids do when there is even the slightest distraction.

After reading th enote, Mr. Reillyl ooked straight up at me. My mouth got very dry.

“Holly? Can you come up here please?”

 

I tried walking up there all casual-like, ignoring the whispering masses.

Mr. Reilly leaned in toward me and said in a lowv oice, “You need to see the guidance counselor Mrs. Karkis right now. Just take this pass to her office.”

I tried to remain calm. “Um, why?”

Mr. Reilly raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Like you don’t know.”

I shuffled back to my desk to grab my things. I tried to coolly stuff my binder and pencilcase into my backpack, but dropped the tin case onto the floor, making a huge clattering noise. All heads spun in my direction and a few people snickered. Ugh.

I finally fled the room, but not without one of the belt loops on my jeans getting caught on the door handle. Seriously?

AHHHH!

Take a deep breath.

I got to Mrs. Karkis’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

I stepped in and noticed someone else sitting in a chair in the corner .It was Mr. Williams, the journalism advisor. “Oh, Lord,” I thought to myself. It was about the column. But why was I being called into the guidance counselor’s office of all places?

I only ever saw Mr. Williams in brief glimpses during my journalism period. He usually hung out in his office and politely ignored everyone. Now I would probably get an earful.

“Please take a seat, Holly.” Mrs. Karkis motioned toward a chair. I sat down nervously. The only other time I’d ever been in he office was to change my class schedule last year, when she thought it was a great idea for me to take a wood shop class instead of art. She thought I needed to “expand” my interests. Okay yeah, hanging out with male thugs every fifth period, a billion miles away from the rest of the campus in some god forsaken warehouse by the football field? No thanks. After my third trip to her office, she finally let me take the art class.

 

“Holly, what were you thinking when you wrote that column?” she asked, hands folded primly on her desk.

“I wasn’t thinking. I mean, it wasn’t meant to be published! It was a joke—”

“A JOKE?” Mrs.Karkis sputtered.

 

“I didn’t think anyone would read it....I was just being...ridiculous? I mean, I don’t really hate everyone that much....”  I trailed off lamely. Everything I said sounded like an excuse from a creepy future school shooter.

Mr. Williams made a funny noise from his corner that I could have sworn was a snicker. Men of all ages have mastered the fine art of snickering.

Mrs.Karkis sighed and went on. “Well, thanks to your ‘joke,’ you have offended almost every single person at this school. As well as the administration.”

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “So what’s going to happen to me?”

Mrs. Karkis sighed, took off her glasses,  and said in a gentler tone, “My concern is: Why so hostile? What’s going on in”—she pointed at her chest—“here?”

I didn’t even know what to say, I was so embarrassed for both of us.

“Um.I-I’m not really hostile, ”I said in a small voice. A snort of laughter again from Mr. Williams.

“I’m not!  I mean, I  just—I’m a normal teenage kid, right? Angst and all that? It’s not like I’m going to shoot up the school or anything....”

 

Mrs.   Karkis’s   eyebrows  shot  updangerously.  “Don’t even joke about that!” she hissed.

 

I was baffled. Why was she asking me this stuff? Wasn’t it clear that I wasn’t really that psycho? The column wasn’t meant to be seen by anyone! And then I got uncomfortable—may be everyone else at school actually thought I was nuts, too. Oh, God, why couldn’t I just have left well enough alone and stayed invisible?

Suddenly distracted by a small bleep! from her computer, Mrs. Karkis tried to talk to me while clicking around with her mouse. “Well, Holly. People are offended. And you really should be more aware of people’s feelings. And of your own as well, sweetie.”

What the—?! Was I actually in a guidance counselor’s office to be guided and counseled? Unheard of! I thought all these people did was mess with our class schedules and then call it a day.

“Okaaay. Is that it? I’m not in trouble? Should I write some kind of retraction or something?”

I looked at Mrs. Karkis expectantly, but she was dis- tracted by what I could have sworn was a Tumblr blog featuring cats wearing fedoras. Once again, I was truly impressed by the intellectual brains that ran my school.

Mr. Williams cleared his throat and moved his chair over to me. “Hi, Holly. Actually, I had something more than a retraction in mind. But before we go into that, you do realize that what you did was really, really stupid, right?”

I looked down at my lap. “Yes.”

 

“And you do know that The Weasel Times has yet another controversy on its hands?”

 

It was true.The paper was constantly berated by the school administration. Like last year, when they ran an article about the student government’s corruption in assigning student parking spaces. I thought it was a fine piece of investigative journalism, but apparently the student government members got pretty pissed and demanded that the principal stop funds for the newspaper. Babies.

Mr. Williams leaned back, crossed his arms, and said in a slow, deliberate voice, “But we welcome controversy.”

Huh?

“This may be a huge mistake, but my instincts are telling me that you have—uh—a way with words.”

I was so confused!

 

“What are you getting at?” I asked impatiently.

 

He raised an eyebrow with amusement. “Yeah, quite the mouth on this one. I think you’d make an excellent columnist.”

“Huh?!”

“Would you want to write a real column for The Weasel Times?”

 

“Are you for real?”

“Yes, I’m for real.”

“For real, for real?”

“Holly!”

“Okay, okay. Just making sure. I mean, because I don’t know if anyone’s going to want to read my column. Everyone is probably freaking out,” I said.

“Yeah, some uptight teachers and students are, but a lot of them are also laughing.”

 

Mrs. Karkis glared at both of us. “One needn’t be considered uptight to be offended. It was offensive. And the only reason the administration is going along with this is because I convinced them that maybe this would be therapeutic for you and your anger issues.”

I tried to hold back a giggle. “I don’t have any anger issues.” This  time both Mr. Williams and Mrs. Karkis laughed. I looked between them defensively.

Mr. Williams shook his head and said, “The thing is, you got a reaction out of people. What’s important is not whether your opinion is popular, it’s that people react to what you write. The Weasel Times has never been too concerned with popularity anyhow,” he added.

Interesting. Did I really want to trade in my blissful anonymity for the drama I had endured today? But if I didn’t do anything about  it, say anything about it,all people would remember me by was that column. Which, while funny to some, was probably not the best representation of me.

I thought about the impending school year stretched out before me: the daily monotonous routine of getting through classes, with my friends as the only bright spot of my high school existence.

I thought of people actually reading what I had to say. And me, having a proper outlet for my opinions.

I took a deep breath and smiled.

“Okay. Sign me up, dudes.”

 

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

 

What genius gave Holly Kim her own column? I will no longer read this crappy paper. I only read it for the two measly comics you guys put in there anyways.

SEE ya.

                                        --MIKE J., SOPHOMORE

 

I think it’s totally rude of you guys to give Holly  her  own column after that totally offensive article she wrote. She obviously doesn’t respect us. Why should we be forced to open the school paper and be judged by her every week? Um, also? NO ONE asked.

                                        --ANONYMOUS., JUNIOR

 

This is for Holly: YOU RULE! I hate BHS, too! We suck.

        Rock on,

                                        --VLADIMIR P., FRESHMAN

 

Why is every one at this school so sensitive anyway? Do  you not know how annoying you all are??? Seriously, get over yourselves. Don’t let people get you down, Holly. I can’t wait to read your column every month!

                                        --KAREN S., SOPHOMORE

 

Who cares about this column thing by that loser Holly?  Why aren’t you guys concentrating more on the football season? BHS is going to KICKASS this year. WOO!

                                        --TREVOR F., SENIOR

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