Noted

Chapter 2

"Can anyone tell me; what is the sole purpose of journalism?" Ms. Foster asked the crowded auditorium.

Not a single person had their hand down; participation was definitely not a concern in this class. Students would almost fight over who got to answer the questions first. It was all quite ridiculous if you asked me. I knew all the answers of course, but competing with my classmates for a teacher's approval wasn't my forte. I much preferred to sulk in the corner and absorb all the information I could take in like a sponge. Sometimes, while everyone shouted answers, I would just doodle here and there on my enormous notebook; just like I was doing right when Ms. Foster caught me off guard.

"Miss Moore...?"asked the professor. "Are you listening?"

All heads turned now, and all faces wore disapproving expressions. I sat up in my seat and closed my scribbled notebook.

"Yes, I am," I replied. "Sorry..."

For some odd reason, Ms. Foster disliked me, and I knew it from the moment I walked into my first class. To be fair, Ms. Foster didn't like most people in general, so I got used to not taking it to heart, or, at least I tried not to.

"You seem to have taken a lot of notes. Do you know the answer to the question?" Ms. Foster displayed a smirk; she thought she had me right where she wanted me, but, as usual, I always had something hidden in my back pocket.

"It's the side of all media and communications that provides news directly to whomever wants to be inform-ed. The purpose of journalism is to give people the know-ledge they need about their communities, their societies, and their government. And, with that information, they can go out and act on any issues they may face in their day to day lives." After I answered, I sensed everyone gawking at me, which is something I definitely missed from High School. They were all clearly impressed, I tried to pretend I didn't care, though I was pleased with myself. I added, "Henry Anatole Grunwald once said 'Journalism can never be silent: that is its greatest virtue and its greatest fault. It must speak, and speak immediately, while the echoes of wonder, the claims of triumph and the signs of horror are still in the air.' "

'Cause why not? If I'm going to show off, I'm going to do it right.

I looked back down at my notebook to continue doodling. I couldn't help the grin growing on my face.

"Thank you, Miss Moore...for that...insightful answer." Ms. Foster adjusted her lilac polka-dot blouse, as if she still had her dignity intact. She didn't have me where she wanted me after all. The other students went back to shouting answers, trying to top my answer.

As soon as the students were dismissed, I grabbed my things and was the first one to leave, while others stayed behind trying to earn extra credit only half way through the semester.

"Hey! Wait up!" an unfamiliar voice called out at me. Normally, I'd just ignore it and continue walking but something made me curious. I stopped and turned around.

"Hi," I replied. "Do I know you?"

The unfamiliar voice belonged to Troy Ramirez; the  charming jock-type guy who usually sat upfront in the auditorium but who never seemed to be an eager beaver like the rest of the students. In fact, he seemed to be more composed than anyone else in class; besides me.

Troy had short black hair with the front slightly longer than the rest of his hair, but it was all slicked back under a nearly worn-out Yankees baseball cap that he wore backwards. He had a big bright smile that only further complimented his golden, deep set eyes and light bronze skin.

With a kind smile he replied, "I'm in Ms. Foster's class with y-"

"How unfortunate for you, too, then," I interrupted, not returning a smile or making eye contact. I grew bored of his flawless face. Plus, I've learnt to never date jocks ever again. EVER.