Page 104 of Not That Impossible

It wasn’t even ten percent flattering toward him. I hunched further.

“You’re not writing a puff piece, I get that,” Adam said. “News is news.”

I chewed my lip nervously. “Mm-hmm.”

“I’m sure you did an amazing job, Jasper. I’m so proud of you.”

“Okay, well. Thanks! Bye!” I hung up quickly.

He wasn’t going to be proud of me in the morning when he read what I wrote about Ray.

I’d come to the conclusion that I didn’t have it in me to be a deadline-based kind of journalist. This was the second article I’d fired off in a panic. I already knew it wasn’t going to land quite as well as the first.

I finished my chicken parmesan, drank a pint of water, and dragged myself up to bed. I crawled in under the duvet, taking my phone with me, and navigated to theInquirer’s website.

“Scandal at Sycamore Close: the Sequel,” by Karen Strickland.

Good headline.

Wish mine was classy like that.

My stomach tightened.

I’d gone with something more sensational.

I could have come up with something better, but Ralph gave me thirty seconds! I sent back the first thing that sprang to mind.

And you know what?

Ralph was the editorandthe owner of the paper. He didn’t have to use my headline if he didn’t like it.

I read Mrs Strickland’s article.

It was elegant, pithy, and contained nothing but facts. No wild speculationat all.

I powered my phone off, curled into a smaller ball, and closed my eyes.

I didn’t think I’d sleep after the day I’d had today and the day I anticipated having tomorrow. Somehow, I did.

* * *

“You’re up early,”Miss Lawson said suspiciously when she found me jogging on the spot outside the newsagents.

“I’m always up early,” I told her.

She shooed me out of the way so she could set out the A-board open sign, and glared when I rushed into the shop behind her.

“All right, what are you in such a hurry for?” she said.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” I stood in front of the newspaper shelf, hunting for theInquirer.

“You know, all of the news is online these days.” She was leaning on the other side of the counter, watching me. “If you’re having a news emergency.”

“Yep.” I poked at a couple of the newspapers, knocked an edition ofThe Sundown, recoiled when it opened to a double-page spread of boobs, and shuffled it back into place. “These are yesterday’s.”

“I’m in my slippers still. I haven’t stocked today’s yet. Deliveries are all out the back.”

“Oh.” I fidgeted in place.

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