Stop the Presses! by Rachel Wise

admit that I even felt a little better after I put it on.
    The good feelings continued as I shoved Mom’s waffles into my mouth. I realized that I had hardly been eating all week, and that was totally unlike me. I usually can’t get enough to eat.
    â€œSo where are we going today?” I mumbled, syrup dripping from my lips. “Paint store? Furniture shopping?”
    â€œSamantha, please wait until you finish chewing,” Mom said, but she was laughing. “Although I’m so happy to see you eating again, I’ll make an exception.”
    â€œI’m happy to see you eating with us again,” I said, gulping down my waffle. “And that the end of your big accounting project is in sight!”
    â€œYes, let’s toast the end of Mom’s project!” Allie said, raising her glass of orange juice.
    We clinked our OJ glasses together, and Mom even did a “Woop-woop!”
    After breakfast, we cleaned up together and headed out. Allie and I raced to the car to get dibson the front seat. Allie won, but she let me sit in the front anyway. I was starting to get a little suspicious. Allie never gives up the front seat without an argument.
    I was even more suspicious when Mom started heading in the direction of school and not toward the mall.
    â€œWhere are we going, Mom?” I asked.
    â€œDon’t worry, honey,” Mom answered. “We’ll get there soon enough.”
    â€œThere” was good old Cherry Valley Middle School, and Mr. Trigg was standing at the side of the parking lot, waving us into a spot. Now I wasn’t just suspicious. I was totally confused.
    â€œMom, can you please explain?” I said.
    â€œSure, Sam. It’s not that complicated,” Mom said. “Mr. Trigg told me that there was a baseball game this morning, and he wanted to brush up on his knowledge of the sport, so we thought you might join him.”
    â€œYou know, because he’s used to cricket,” Allie said.
    â€œYou guys, that is so lame.” I sighed. “Is thisyour attempt to get me out of the house?”
    â€œGuilty,” Mom said. “Don’t be mad.”
    â€œI’m not,” I said. “I know I’ve been tough to live with lately. And, Allie, just for your information, it’s not hormones. But I am sorry for the way I acted.”
    â€œApology accepted,” Allie said. “Just try to have some fun today, okay?”
    â€œI’ll try, but I can’t promise,” I said as I got out of the car. “I mean, it’s a Saturday and I’m going to a baseball game with a teacher!”
    â€œCheerio!” Mom called, driving off.
    I rolled my eyes. Mom could be so corny sometimes.
    â€œCheerio!” Mr. Trigg called back to her.
    I guess it takes one to know one.
    â€œMiss Martone, are you ready to show me the intricacies of America’s pastime?” Mr. Trigg asked as we walked to the bleachers.
    â€œMr. Trigg, I believe you might know them better than I do.” I laughed. “But I’ll try.”
    Mr. Trigg walked right past the home section of the bleachers and sat down in the visitor’s section.
    â€œOkay, first thing is, you’re sitting in the wrong place,” I said. “This is for the fans of the other team.”
    â€œI’m aware of that, Samantha,” Mr. Trigg said. “As a journalist, I’d rather see what the other side thinks. I already know how our fans feel.”
    â€œInteresting approach,” I noted. “I never thought of it before.”
    I was particularly happy that Mr. Trigg had chosen our spot when I saw Hailey sitting in the stands with her soccer teammates. At least it wasn’t her Green Team minions, I thought.
    The teams ran onto the field for warm-ups. I saw Michael look around the bleachers and wondered if he was looking for me. Then I saw Hailey wave to him and figured he wasn’t. I was watching them closely when I heard someone