Page 52 of Chasing Headlines
“He’s not exactly going to go out of his way to win a pitcher's trust.” Especially not Tanner. “But your second baseman had far too many fielding errors last year. Coop's got better batting stats, even if he’s not firing on all cylinders.” And had the personality of a warthog, emphasis on the warts. And was a complete jerk.
Eberhardt shook his head. “Coop hates?—”
“He hates second base. But. He hates sitting on the bench, more.”
Schorr grimaced. Eberhardt tossed his cap onto his desk.
“And you both know that, so I’ve outlived my usefulness and should go.” I opened the door to let myself out. “Oh, since I’m caught up on filing, I’ll do my reporter thing, as you call it, and grab some pics of weight training. Maybe something shirtless for the female fans.”
Coach Schorr snorted. “Female fans, sure. That'll be the day.”
“Maybe I can convince your boys to do a pinup calendar.” Oh, that was an amazing idea. I pulled up my ForeverNotepad to capture the win.
“Go!”
I ducked out the door, then remembered. Oh! Shit! I peeked my head back into the bullpen. “Did I pass the quiz?”
“Barely. Too much story, too much bias.” Schorr groused at me with a sour expression. “Gimme Jimenez first next time and if I've got follow up questions about other players, I’ll ask.”
“But I got the answer right, right? The one you would’ve picked.” I bit my lip and tried to push away the ‘biased’ remark echoing in the back of my brain.Curt said I was biased, too. But! I'm supposed to have an opinion.
“I said you passed, now get the hell outta my office, Milline.”
I huffed and shut the door behind me. Probably let out a small squeal.I passed!
The following week . . .
A tight-lipped Mrs. P held up my Founders’ Day article pitch. A big red “NO” written across the top. I sighed. Really?
I met her gaze. “But, I thought an article chronicling the lives of the original Vachon family who founded?—”
“Too historical.” She shook her head and held out the paper. “Audience won't connect with it.”
“I wanted to focus on what their lives were like back then,” I said and pointed at my submission. “I think it's important context for some of the school's values and provides a look back at how times have changed.”
“Lends itself to being disrespectful.”
“That wasn't my intention.”
“Kinda was.” That toad Rivers Reyes chimed in from his work table. He finger-combed his black hair over his forehead. His tattered grey metalhead t-shirt was probably meant to be “so edgy”, but he missed on the Jughead Jones look and only managed to appear oily and unkept. “Like what? There were people who lived in a time before there was internet?” He rolled his eyes at me. It took everything I had not to flip him off.
Mrs. P raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s enough, Rivers. Liv, try again,” she said and held out my paper.
I snatched it from her hands. She moved back to her desk and sat down. I didn't want to try again. I wanted to focus on baseball. “What about an article on Coach Schorr?”
“For Founders’ Day? He's notthatold.”
“I meant for the sports journal.”
“Liv, we talked about this. We don't have to report on baseball year-round. I don't evenwantto report on baseball all year.”
“Think of the poor baseball players who need their shirts in the cold winters.” Rivers laughed with an oh-so-charming snerk. “You’re so heartless, Liv.”
Don’t worry, we took up a collection to make sure you always have a shirt. It came with a bag for your head, too.I bit back my retort and focused on Mrs. P.
“I know it’s not necessary, per se. But Coach Schorr is a legacy. We could have areal runat a national championship title this year with him back at the helm.”
“I'm not greenlighting another baseball-related article until you bring me areal pitchfor your Founders’ Day piece. No pun intended.”