Free Front Page Face-Off by Jo Whittemore Page A

questioning.
    â€œWell,” she chewed on her lip and squinted in concentration. “I refuse to give up until I get my way.”
    My pen paused on the page. That wasn’t a qualification for a leader; it was the qualification for Spoiled Brat of the Year. “Um … what else?”
    â€œLet’s see …” She placed her food order and drummed her fingers on the counter. “Oh! I’m compassionate.”
    A giggle escaped, but I turned it into a cough. “How so?”
    â€œI saved a sea turtle.”
    â€œInteresting.” I wrote some more. “How?”
    â€œDuh. By rescuing it.”
    I pressed my lips together. “From what?”
    â€œDanger.”
    My pen pressed a hole through the paper. “What kind of danger?”
    Katie looked as annoyed as I felt. “Life-threatening.”
    â€œ Fine . Why the name Hot Stuff?”
    â€œBecause we’re hot stuff.”
    I put down my pen and smiled at her. “These answers explain a lot and aren’t at all vague. Thank you.”
    Not surprisingly, she didn’t quite catch my sarcasm. “You’re welcome.”
    The vendor handed her a hot dog and I tried for another question. “How do you decide who gets to be Hot Stuff?”
    â€œOh.” Katie hid her mouth behind her hand and talked while she chewed. “We avoid deviants or social outcasts. Only the best of the best.” She gripped my arm. “But we don’t discriminate against nerds, fat girls, or trailer trash.” She pointed at my notepad. “Make sure you put that. That’s important.”
    â€œOh, definitely,” I said in a serious voice. “Everyone needs to know what humanitarians you are.”
    Katie paused in her chewing and looked thoughtful.“You know, I never thought of it that way, but you’re right. We’re like Mother Teresa—only younger and cuter.”
    She started walking toward the beach again, and I rolled my eyes behind her back. I asked her a few more general questions to keep her from getting suspicious, and when she reached the bonfire again, she turned to me and extended a hand.
    â€œDana, it was nice talking to you. Why don’t we discuss the article some more tomorrow at school?”
    I couldn’t resist a genuine smile. The leader of Hot Stuff felt comfortable enough around me for a second round of interview questions. Eventually, if I wheedled and flattered enough, she’d let down her guard, and I’d get all the information I needed. “Thanks, Katie. That would be great.”
    I shook her hand, the watch on my wrist reminding me that I only had a few minutes before Jenner’s turn at the tide.
    Bidding Katie a quick farewell, I hurried down the beach and jumped several sand castles and people to reach the shore just as Jenner was paddling out to catch her first wave. Her dad stood by the judge’s table, so I joined him and dropped to the sand to catch my breath.
    â€œHow’s the competition?”
    He scratched his beard. “It’s tough. Jenner decided to go against the older group, where the surfers are much fiercer.”
    We watched Jenner jump to her feet and catch an impressive wave into shore, only wobbling a bit on the dismount. Icheered, and her father whistled through his teeth.
    â€œShe might have a fighting chance,” he said.
    I looked up at him to agree, but a broad-shouldered figure caught my eye. Marcus was slogging toward me, taking the exact path I’d run to the shore.
    â€œMarcus, are you following me?” Despite my irritation, I couldn’t help feeling a little flattered. Most reporters didn’t get their own personal stalkers until they’d reached the national news circuit.
    Jenner’s dad glanced over at us, frowning. “Everything okay, Delilah?”
    â€œYes,” I said, “just some guy from school.”
    â€œWe’re working on a project together,”