Free Struck by Lightning: The Carson Phillips Journal by Chris Colfer Page A

collapsed on my bed. The snide remarks from my peers, the discouraging comments from everyone else, and my own thoughts of doubt were on constant replay in my mind.
    “ I’m sorry, but homecoming is nothing without the cheerleading float! ”
    “ No one reads the Chronicle anyway .”
    “ The art classes use it to papier-mâché things .”

    I thought of the student council.…I thought of the Chronicle .…I thought of Ms. Sharpton and Mom.…I thought of Grandma and Malerie.…
    “ You’re young and naïve. All those dreams … still seem reachable .”
    “ The i is an imaginary number .”
    There was no way I could make the literary magazine work now. I had done everything I possibly could. Except one thing…There was one thing I hadn’t tried yet .…
    “ If you can get Nicholas Forbes and Scott Thomas to join the Chronicle, you can do anything .”
    “ Nixon is so crooked he has to screw his boots on in the morning! ”
    “ Everyone has something to hide! ”
    Before I could even think the idea through, I grabbed my cell phone and called Malerie.
    “Malerie, it’s Carson,” I said. “Operation Clovergate is in effect.”
    It was decided before I even picked up the phone. I’m done being patient. I’m done being nice. I’m done letting them walk all over me.
    Come Monday morning, I will get my literary submissions, even if I have to blackmail the entire school.

10/15
    CLOVERGATE, DAY ONE .
    I dismissed myself early from chemistry so Malerie and I could get started. I walked across the campus and found her in her art class. They were sculpting and Malerie was making a Bugs Bunny bust of sorts.
    “Malerie, let’s go!” I said to her from the doorway. “Clovergate time!”
    “But I’m sculpting,” Malerie said, looking around for her art teacher. The man used to teach wood shop; he wears an eye patch and is missing four fingers. Malerie ditching class was the least of his worries.
    “Malerie, this is no time for sculpting!” I said. She looked like a confused puppy at a crossroads. She gathered her things with her elbows since her hands were covered in clay.
    “Hey, it’s that pencil guy from homecoming!” some jackass in the class said. I acquainted him with my middle finger and we left.
    In the journalism room, Malerie and I made a large CLOVERGATE board. We put up the school pictures ofwho my first victims would be: Claire Mathews, Coach Walker, Remy Baker, Nicholas Forbes, Scott Thomas. My sights were set very high.
    “Capture the queen, and the colony will follow,” I said.
    “Yeah,” Malerie said. “Unless the ants revolt and execute the queen first like they did in my ant farm.”
    We added Vicki Jordan and Dwayne Michaels to the board. Like I said before, I’m an equal-opportunity extortionist; I wasn’t only targeting the popular kids. Besides, I thought they’d make good diversity for the magazine.
    “How are we going to blackmail all of them?” Malerie asked.
    “I’ve got dirt on most of them,” I said. “But I’m not sure about the others. Then again, Columbus wasn’t sure North America was there. And you know what he did when he got here?”
    “What?” Malerie asked.
    “He enslaved every Indian around him,” I said.
    “Oh,” Malerie said, and gazed up at the board. “All you little Indians watch out.”
    “Some will be much easier than others,” I said,deciding where to strike first. “Remember, Malerie, if anything happens to me while I’m attempting this, you’re in charge of the Chronicle and the Writers’ Club.”
    Her jaw fell open and her eyes widened. I had to tell her I was partially kidding and my life wasn’t really at stake.
    “Who are we starting with?” Malerie asked.
    I walked closer to the board and examined Remy’s cheesy class-photo smile. “I’m starting with Frodo,” I said. “She’s in my English class next period.”
    A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a funny user name on the Clover High School website: Yearbook-Girl69. I