Читать книгу Circle of Silence - Carol Tanzman M. - Страница 11

3

The Media Center isn’t set up like a regular classroom. The only “desks” are two round tables in the middle of the room. A row of computers, loaded with editing software and graphics programs, line the back wall. On the east side, there’s a mini-TV newsroom. Somebody, some year, painted the front of the school on a backdrop—a very realistic, to-scale depiction. The station’s call letters, WiHi, are printed at the bottom. The station’s weekly anchorperson sits at an oval table directly in front of the painting.

Mr. Carleton keeps the equipment in several large, locked cabinets on the opposite wall. Cameras, microphones, headsets, lights. Sign-out sheets are clipped to a board. Next to the cabinets, two small glass-fronted rooms were carved out. One is the sound booth, the other the control room.

Attendance taken, B Team settles at our table. I open my Campus News notebook and wet my lips nervously. “Ideas?”

Marci speaks first. “I could interview the football team about their chances for the year.”

I glance at my List of Possible Stories. Next to the line that says Football/school spirit/hot dog stand, I’d penciled in Marci’s name.

“Excellent. Since it’s the first game, can you add a bit about school spirit? And don’t forget the senior hot dog stand. Money goes to prom.”

She nods. “Can I work with Omar?”

Advanced TV Production works in teams of two. One person interviews, holding the mic, while the other runs the camera, wearing a headset to check sound quality. They switch roles for the second person’s assignment.

“You’re on, sista. But it’s a lot of setups,” Omar says. “Anyone got something easy for my segment?” His eyes flicker toward Raul as if he’s the one in charge.

I jump in quick. “How about a Spotlight? There’s that new assistant principal.”

Raul laughs. “Mrs. Fairy?”

“Fahey,” I correct.

“Like anyone’s gonna call her that,” Jagger snorts.

“Snap!” Omar gives me the wriggly eyebrows. “Spotlight works, Val. Always a good idea to kiss up to the new administration.”

Two down. Time to take on the monster. “How about anchoring, Jagger? It’s not hard—”

“Nah,” he interrupts. “I don’t want to be on camera.”

Of course. I should have told him not to anchor. “Then what’s your plan?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you don’t anchor, you have to shoot and edit a piece. Do you have an idea?”

His eyes turn thunderstorm-gray. “Didn’t know I had to think of one.”

Omigod. Why is he even in this class?

Trying not to appear flustered, I glance at Henry. “What if you take the anchor position for the first broadcast? That way, you’ll have time to help with the opening graphics.”

He nods. “I could do that.”

Thank goodness for Henry. “Cool. That leaves Raul with Jagger.”

Jagger leans forward. “Why can’t you and me be together?”

My heart jumps—until I realize he’s playing me. Or is he? The sudden intensity in his eyes is confusing. It seems so…honest. The next instant, though, I catch myself.

Do not fall for the Voorham charm the very first day!

Omar, fanning his face with mock envy, raises his voice. “Hooking up during Campus News! That allowed, Mr. Carleton?”

The teacher, sitting with A Team, glances at us. “Whatever you say, Omar. As long as Work. Gets. Done.”

Great. First day in charge. Jagger’s making a fool of me, and Mr. C. thinks we’re screwing around.

“Producer doesn’t take a specific assignment the first week, Voorham.” My voice has a frosty edge. “Except for directing anchor stuff and making sure everything else works out.”

Raul must think I can’t handle Jagger, because he jumps in. “Val’s right. You’re with me. How about doing something on the new skateboard park down by the river?”

Why didn’t I think of that?

“Community story! Carleton’ll love it,” I tell him.

Raul smiles. At the same time, Jagger looks a bit…disappointed. Or maybe he’s pissed that he didn’t get his way.

I glance at Marci to see if she’s paying attention, but she’s filling out the Question Sheet for the football story.

Quickly, I get back to work. “That leaves only one segment to figure out.” After checking my list again, I make a decision. “After-school clubs. It’ll be good for the ninth graders.”

Jagger snorts. “Clubs? I’d rather do something about MP.”

Omar glances at him curiously. “Who’s that?”

“Haven’t you seen the initials chalked around school?” Jagger asks. “Got to be a tagger.”

Marci pushes her paper aside. “MP. It’s Marshall Prep. They’re the first football team we play. They’re messing with our heads. Something you know all about.”

He grins. “Whatever. I’ll do that. Talk to the usual suspects around school. If nothing pans out graffiti-wise, I know a guy at Marshall. I can try to find out if he’s heard anything—”

“No way!” Marci declares. “Marshall Prep does not get one bit of publicity for punking us.”

Jagger tilts his chair back so that it balances precariously on two legs. “Why are you so against me trying, Marcikins?”

Quickly, I shut my notebook. I need to take charge right now so the team doesn’t blow up before a single frame is shot.

“It doesn’t matter whose initials they are. Clubs are more useful for a first broadcast. Five hundred freshmen need to hear about them before sign-up day.”

Jagger lets the chair down with a dissatisfied bang. “Whatever you say. But I’m willing to bet MP is a way better story than a group of lame-ass kids sitting around solving equestrian math puzzles!”