The Geek Revolution ✓

31 | newspaper

RUNNING ON MY MOTIVATION IT takes less than a minute to race through the empty corridors to the print room.

My pace automatically quickens when I hear shouting; a female voice that sounds unmistakably like Delaney, and a more masculine one.

It's locked, as expected. I mean, who'd leave the press room open for reckless kids to scan pictures of their butts? The old, incorrigible Terrence runs through my mind, for a split second, and I shudder. Hastily I turn the key, swinging open the door on a warmly lit room smelling of ink, machinery, and newsprint.

"I don't care what you think, Kyler! It's my decision and you're not going to guilt-trip me into agreeing."

Delaney is screaming directly into a boy's face, who has a senior's experienced look about him, from the way his arms are crossed, staunch posture, and unimpressed expression. Delaney bossed around Debate Club members starting in her sophomore year, so I can't imagine anyone younger holding their own so solidly against her right now.

His blonde hair sweeps dramatically to one side, a close undercut drawing a lot of attention to the corners of his angular jawline. On his pale face is a suspiciously fresh-looking red mark, like someone slapped him. That settles it. no-one is ever letting Delaney out of their sights again.

After recognising me, she quickly glances away before I can use her face to guess what the fuck was going through her mind when she wrote that article. The boy barely acknowledges me and only the fact that he makes direct eye contact tells me he knows I'm here.

"Look, Laney. Can I call you Laney?" Delaney looks on the verge of hitting him again. "Okay, Duh-laney, we really need you. Not that I'm comfortable begging you," he quickly amends his statement after Delaney steps closer to him, "—and I mean that in the nicest way possible. But our newspaper is sinking and we want to save it. I'm sure you understand wanting to fight for something you believe in."

I know he's struck the right nerve as soon as Delaney falters, and her shoulders relax a little. Apparently, he knows it, too, and takes the moment to divert focus to me. "Sophie, right? The original revolutionary."

"Um. Sure." The prestigious title he bestowed on me is wholly unfamiliar, much too grand, and I shift uncomfortably on my toes. "And who are you?"

"Kyler Valentin. Newspaper editor. Delaney's told me a lot about you."

"Shut up, Valentin," Delaney growls, "I only told you what was necessary."

"True. But I found out the rest." Kyler gives me a seamless wink, then says to Delaney, "Look, think about it, and when you have an answer, get back to me. Remember to lock up after yourselves." And he brushes past me on the way out, leaving behind a tense silence and a trace of his aftershave.

Then it's just me and Delaney.

I finally take my first good look around the print room. It's much larger than the photography room and definitely bigger than the Book Club's room. But I suppose it's only logical, to accommodate the three print machines. They're bulky machines, with coils of blank newsprint wound up around a metal press. Only one is actually working, whirring softly and emitting faint clunks occasionally as the inkjets adjust, white paper rolling slowly.

I'm guessing the newspaper editors are the ones who have to fold and deliver the newspapers. Leading off from the main print room are smaller working areas. One space is purely designated for computers, rows of them set up with swivel chairs. It must be for all the column writers they don't yet have. All of the computers are shut off, sleeping under a dusty blanket.

I'm intrigued by Kyler Valentin. I have some sympathy for him because he was nothing but polite to me, if not strong-handed with Delaney. Some part of me completely understands his fixation with saving the Chronicle, because slim chances are still chances, after all. Kyler would rather sink with his crew than jump ship because he loves it too damn much. It's stupid and honourable, and frankly, exactly what I'd do for the Revolution.