Free Brooke's Not-So-Perfect Plan by Jo Whittemore Page A

taking the bait.”
    â€œThirty-second rule,” said Mary Patrick with a shrug. “I know it’s supposed to be five seconds, but I make an exception for chocolate.”
    â€œWhat’s going on?” I asked her.
    Mary Patrick picked a piece of lint off the candy. “I’m surprised you’re not all racing to the front to see the first issue of the Lincoln Log . Most newbies usually do.”
    I glanced at my teammates in confusion.
    â€œThe short issue? Why would we care? We’re not in it.”
    It was Mary Patrick’s turn to look confused. “Mrs. H gave me your pieces last Friday, andthey went to the printers, along with everything else.”
    Instantly, our table was abuzz.
    â€œWhat pieces?” demanded Tim.
    â€œWe didn’t turn in any pieces!” I added.
    â€œAre you sure they were our pieces?” asked Heather.
    â€œShe didn’t take the pieces from the video, did she?” Vanessa clapped a hand to her forehead.
    Mary Patrick thrust out her hands to silence us. “Everyone stop saying pieces ! It’s making me think of Reese’s Pieces and the fact that I don’t have any!”
    Mrs. H hurried over. “What is all the fuss about, staffers? This is highly unprofessional newsroom behavior.”
    â€œMary Patrick said you turned in our advice column on Friday, but we didn’t give you any material,” I told her.
    She smiled and opened her arms with aflourish. “Surprise! We were going to wait until the first full week of school, but after that video . . . mishap”—she smiled politely—“I thought it might be better to show you’ve got what it takes now . So I used your practice material that Mary Patrick shared from the second day of class!” Mrs. H cocked her head. “You don’t seem as happy as I thought you’d be.”
    Heather cleared her throat. “I think we wanted a little more time to—”
    â€œYou published my Sir Stinks a Lot piece?” Tim’s voice came out as a squeak. “That was meant to be funny!”
    â€œAnd it was!” Mrs. H placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “But it was also sound advice.”
    He sighed and banged his forehead on the desk. “Ow.”
    â€œMrs. H is right,” I said. “Even though they were just practice, we still did a good job. And our column can use all the positive exposure itcan get.” I nodded approvingly.
    â€œGlad you feel that way!” she said, beaming. “Because I thought it might be nice to have our staffers personally distribute this issue.”
    She beckoned across the room, where two guys waited with stacks of newspapers wrapped in twine. One of them grabbed a bundle in each hand and made his way to our table.
    Despite our earlier cries of protest, Tim, Heather, Vanessa, and I couldn’t help staring in awe. The smell of the news ink hit me, and I wriggled a copy of the Lincoln Log out from under the twine.
    â€œGuys, we’re in here,” I said in a voice barely above a whisper. “Our names in print.”
    â€œWell, don’t just stare at the headlines. Find our page!” Vanessa spread the paper on the table, and we all lunged for it at once.
    â€œCareful!” said Heather. “You’ll rip it.”
    The paper rustled as I searched and finallyspotted the corner of Gil’s horoscope, which meant . . .
    â€œOur column!” I crowed, smoothing the pages flat.
    â€œLook, there’s me!” Vanessa jabbed at her name. “Ooh, I’ve got to get a pic of this!” She reached for her purse, but Mrs. H stopped her.
    To be honest, I’d momentarily forgotten she was there.
    â€œI’ll be sure to save a few copies for you to take home to your parents,” Mrs. H said with a smile. “For now, let’s focus on this week’s advice, and I’ll give you time at the end of class to hand out the Lincoln Log