Gilmore girls: your own storyline.

Chapter 22

Giselle POV: 

Well, Rory's had a lot of drama for the past few days, but me... I feel like nothing much has been going on. I know that mom has been nominated for this huge surgical award, the Golden Mabel, so she's been out of the house more and I feel like I pretty much live alone. school goes on. life goes on. I've made a new friend, Jess. He's a nice guy, a bit of a douche, but we have begun this tradition where I give him a children's book that he's forced to read, and he gives me a "real" book in exchange. I fill up my time by hanging out with my friends, focusing on school and the Franklin, and trying not to call Tristan. It's so tempting to just call him on the phone and see how he's doing but I'm pretty sure they don't allow phones at military school and I don't want to get him or myself in trouble. Plus I really need to stop thinking about him.

Now, speaking about the franklin, I'm sitting in the newsroom right now. It's a large room with many desks at the end for the students to work at. I'm sitting next to Rory at the large rectangular wooden table in the center of the room for all the journalists and editors to sit at and listen to Paris yell at us, "NO! No. No. No. No." she yells as she walks slowly around the table, shuffling together papers of printed articles in her hand. 

Rory shuffles in her seat and looks up at her, "Paris." Rory tries to interrupt. 

"I'm not done," Paris yells at her. 

"sorry." Rory annoyingly sighs. 

"no," Paris yells one more time and throws the stack of papers on the table, causing a loud thud.

"glad she finished that one." Louise annoyingly mumbles to Madeline, sitting opposite Rory and i.

"Why am I the only one who cares?" Paris asks and paces around the table once more.

"you're not the only one who cares," Rory tells her.

"no. I know you care, but I need everyone in this stupid room to care because I can't be the only one to care." she speaks, raising her voice every time she says the word "care", "Besides you." she adds, referring to Rory. 

"We care, Paris. I promise you that we all freaking care." I tell her, in hopes that she calms down. 

"It's just a contest, Paris. It's not like you get a car or lifetime supply of rice-a-roni." Louise tells her.

Madeline turns to Louise, "God, I love that stuff." she tells her. 

Paris ignores them and starts pacing in the opposite direction, just to make everyone dizzier, "the Oppenheimer award for excellence in school journalism is not a contest-- it's a statement." she continues with the lecture, "It says you're the best. The best writer, the best reporters, best editors. It says that you crushed all others who have dared to take you on. it says that every other school in the united states of America is feeling nothing but shame and defeat and pain because of the people who won the Oppenheimer plaque! I wanna be those people. I wanna cause that pain." Paris states with a straight face; Paris the sadist, everyone.

"our paper is good," Rory tells her.

"not good enough," Paris counters.

"Last week's issue--" Rory begins but Paris cuts her off.

"was a fine effort by a bunch of kids." Paris continues.

"We are a bunch of kids," Madeline tells her. 

"Not when we're in this room," Paris tells her then stops walking at the head of the table. she picks up a pile of newspapers, "Leisure Prep Gazette." she reads the first name then drops the paper on the table. "Broadmouth Banner" she reads a second name and does the same. "Richmond heights chronicles", she drops the last paper, "These publications are not our competition!" she yells, then picks up a separate stack of newspapers, "the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, the Washington Post. These publications are our competition," she yells then drops all three newspapers on the table resulting in another loud thud.