Unexpected

Unsure

Scott:

     "Excuse me. Excuse me!" chirped a voice from behind me. It was the second day of school, and I was slightly hopeful that yesterday would quickly become a thing of the past. Apparently not.

     I glanced behind me to see a short blonde girl rushing towards me. Dark circles lingered just below her eyes, but she showed no sign of being tired. On the contrary, you would've thought she had a breakfast of five cups of coffee and ten Redbulls.

     Her clothes were simple but stylish: a dressy white blouse and dark jeans. Her black eye makeup stood out on her face and I noticed that she had a few eyebrow piercings that gleamed in the artificial light. In one hand she held a notebook and in the other a pen.

     She squeezed through clusters of students in her attempt to reach me. I turned around and kept walking.

     "Um, hello?"

     Keep walking.

     "I know you can hear me."

     Only a few more doors to homeroom. . . Rule #2, Rule #2.

     "A-hem." I felt a hand on my shoulder. Hesitantly, I turned, directing my gaze a little lower to face her.

     Regardless of her small figure, she stood straight and confident. The girl didn't bother to try hiding the annoyed expression on her face. Despite her irritation, she stuck out her hand for me to shake. I complied, fuming slightly.

     "Kirstin Maldonado. Member of the Martin High newspaper," she stated, sounding so professional it made me cringe. "I believe you are Scott Hoying?" I nodded, not liking where this was going.

     "I understand that you attempted to fight Carson Satterwhite. Would you mind if I interviewed you for more in-"

     "First off," I interrupted, "I didn't try fighting him. Second, you're not getting any details out of me. If you'll excuse me, I'm late for class."

     I tried to walk around her, but she blocked my path. "As a reporter doing her duties, I have the right to pull a student out of class for a limited amount of time. Speak, please." Kirstin flipped open her notebook, allowing her pen to hover over the blank page. The hallway was getting less and less crowded as students detached themselves from the rush and filed into their classrooms.

     "Look, I'm not participating in your little article. See ya." I pushed past her, only to be grabbed by the collar by the short blonde. She turned me around so I was facing her again. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to learn a few manners," she said, placing her hands on her hips. I felt anger rising in my chest.

     "And it wouldn't kill you to leave me alone. Don't I have a right to choose not to do this?" I asked.

     She didn't answer for a second, but then nodded. "Well. . . yeah, b-but. . ."

     I attempted to walk past her again and she didn't budge. I was only a few lockers further down the hall until I heard her say, "Wait."

     I spun around. "What?" I grunted. Kirstin marched up to me. "Look, I know that you probably don't care, but this is really important for me. You're the only story I can find."

     "There was another physical fight going on yesterday!"

     "But that happens everyday. Welcome to Martin, Hoying. You get used to stuff like that, as you see it everywhere. Same kids, same time, same results: no major injuries, or at least not enough to stop them from going at it again the next day. Plus, there's no meaning behind those fights, anyway. This is different. Really, really different."

     "How is it so different? And why does anyone even care? I saw someone in distress, and I helped him. Is that such a big deal?"

     Kirstin pondered on my question for a while, as if she was trying to figure out how to answer. Finally, she said, "It's not exactly what you did, Scott. It's the people involved that has everybody interested."

     I stared at her. "What are you talking about?"

   Kirstin smirked. "Let's make a deal: I tell you what you want to know, if  you tell me what I want to know." I thought for a second. Was I really willing enough to put myself even more into the public eye to answer some of my questions?

     Noticing my indecisiveness, the blonde spoke up again. "Think about it. Meet me in the newsroom if you change your mind."

     And with that, she left.