Henley's Heart

2

Trust starts with truth and ends with truth. – Santosh Kalwar

CLASSES are a lot more difficult than I had anticipated. I'm only taking three courses. How is it that, as well as writing three articles every two weeks is kicking my ass?

It probably has something to do with how this work is set up.

Editing in the Workplace is brutal. Dr. Platt is brilliant to work with, but he's tough. He expects us to find every issue, re-write major sentences, and portions of articles, learn how to spy a faulty hook or a lazy story, and to keep up with him all at once. Winter and I spend hours texting each other trying to make sure we find every single mistake, but with Platt, it's useless. There's always something to miss.

Advanced Journalism is a true dream, though. While Editing for the Workplace has me by the balls, I thrive in class with Kennedy. I swear she sees the look on my face while we go over articles, sharing pieces we love or wrote in the past, and challenges us to find ways to change up what we've written in the past verses now. That is what I live for. Walking into her classroom adds joy to my day.

"For next week I want all of you to read the articles about what's happening with the Georgia Bulldogs. I know you aren't all interested in college football, but seeing as we all watched how the Philadelphia Eagles became the underdogs of the fifty-first Super Bowl when absolutely no one thought they'd win, I think that the boys would appreciate seeing how many people are interested in their underdog story."

I smile slightly as I pack my bag, knowing Kennedy is picking on my brother's team. She's always had a soft spot for Declan since I met her and began following college football when she found out what schools he'd been accepted to last year. I'm pretty sure she knows more about the world of college football than I'll ever know.

"Mr. Jensen can you stay after a moment?" I'm shocked to hear her call my name. I look up. "I need to speak with Miss Bard for a moment but would like a word with you."

I nod. "Of course, Professor."

I return to my seat, and I pull out my phone to a text from Clyde.

CLYDE FILNER: What time you done class? I wanna pick up some supplies for the party this weekend.

SEBASTIAN: The one we're throwing, or the girls two apartments down?

CLYDE: The one for the ladies' party. They asked for tonight and gave us tomorrow, as well as a promise to exempt them from payment.

SEBASTIAN: When did you learn the word "exempt?"

CLYDE: Ha-ha, very funny Mr. Jensen.

SEBASTIAN: Kennedy needs to talk to me for a second, and then I'll meet you, okay?

CLYDE: I'll be in the parking lot behind Milner.

"What do you mean?"

The girl that Kennedy kept behind has suddenly gotten loud enough that I can hear her.

I don't mean to intrude on the conversation, mostly because unlike my father and the rest of the journalism world, I believe in privacy. But it's her tone that catches my ears.

Kennedy must not notice that I've tuned in by lifting my head ever so slightly, because she continues at the same volume as the girl.

"I mean, this would be a great opportunity for you. You've never even liked writing."