I sat down across from Rebekkah in the cafeteria with my books for the next class and my bag of food. Before I had even opened it, Rebekkah asked, “How’d it go with Aaron last night?”
“Um… Okay,” I said. “It could be worse. We didn’t get a lot done.”
She sighed. “I don’t see why you guys can’t get along. I hope it gets better.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said, tired of this conversation we seemed to have every day.
“What did you guys talk about?” she asked.
“I just told him what the topic would be,” I answered. “But my mom called so I had to go early.”
“Oh.” She shrugged. “It’s a start.”
A start of what?
o . O . o
When I got to Aaron’s house and knocked on the door, no one answered. I heard the distant sounds of a basketball hitting cement, so I went around the back of his house. Sure enough, there he was, shooting a basketball at a basketball hoop. He had on a sleeveless Under Armor shirt and long basketball shorts. It was twenty degrees out. What was he thinking?!
“What the heck are you doing?” I asked in frustration.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked. He continued to shoot around. He didn’t even seem to care that I was mad at him. Rebekkah was right; he is so polite.
“You do know we have an interview, right?” I said.
He didn’t answer; he just kept shooting.
I dramatically sighed. “Okay, if that’s how it’s going to be...” I paused for the dramatic effect. “New rule: You cannot play basketball during an interview.”
“What?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “No basketball.”
“Why not? What do you have against the sport?”
“Nothing,” I replied, “other than the fact that it’s just another way for guys to show off.”
He laughed. “You really think that’s why we play basketball?”
“Why else would you?”
He shook his head in disbelief. “You obviously don’t play sports.”
“For good reason.”
“Whatever you say,” he said, picking up the ball and walking up to me. “Are you going to ask me stuff or what?”
“Fine. First question: What’s your preference on girls’ looks?”
He thought for a moment. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter that much to me.”
I got out my notepad and jotted down what he said. “What do you mean by that?”
“A girl could be hot, but it doesn’t matter, if she’s a total brat. And another girl might not be a model, but it doesn’t matter as long as she has a nice personality.
I nodded and wrote that down. As I looked back up at him, I noticed the gold chain he always seemed to be wearing. But as I focused on it, I could see a small golden cross hanging from it.
I decided to improvise. “Next question: Why do you always wear that necklace?” I couldn’t help but ask. I was just too curious and this was a golden opportunity.
His facial expression became impassive. He dribbled back onto the court and shot the ball. “No comment.”
“What? No comment?” I asked in disbelief—or maybe it was more in an eagerness to know. I can’t help it; I’m a journalist.
He walked back to me. “Look. There are some things I just won’t talk about. Okay?”
I tried not to show how bewildered I was at his reaction. There was obviously more to him than anyone else knew.
o . O . o
I got home and immediately called Rebekkah. She picked up, and the first thing she said was, “Something happened. Spill it.”
“How did you know?” I asked.
“You never call me,” she said. “It’s always a text or an email. So…”
“So what?”
“Are you going to tell me what happened?!”
“Well,” I started, “I was interviewing Aaron when I saw his gold necklace that you love so much.” I heard her giggle and went on, “So I asked him about it.”
She gasped. “And what did he say?”
“He wouldn’t answer. He got all defensive about it.”
After a few seconds of silence, Rebekkah concluded, “So he has secrets. Maybe it’s an old girlfriend! Oh my gosh! He did have a girlfriend, but she broke his heart, so that’s why he hasn’t had another—“
“Rebekkah!” I interrupted. “Calm down! I don’t know anything yet.”
“You’re going to have to figure it out,” she said. “I need to know!”
“But he already made it clear that the topic is off limits!” I exclaimed.
“Then use your journalist skills to pull it out of him.”
“But that’s mean! If he doesn’t want to talk about it, then he doesn’t have to.”
She whined, “Why not? It’d make your story more interesting. And now I really want to know about it. He’ll be anonymous in paper anyway, right?”
“You don’t think I could really put it in the paper, do you?” I said. “That’s personal stuff.”
“Then don’t put it in the paper,” she said. “But you have to find out—for me. And don’t deny that you want to know too.”
“I’ll see what I can find out,” I said. I admit I wanted to know almost as much as she did. Almost.
“You better!” she exclaimed. I heard yelling in the background. “Um… my brother’s home,” she said. “I have to go. Bye!”
“Okay. Bye.” I hung up.
This interview thing was becoming more and more complicated.
أنت تقرأ
Hidden (Short Story Series #2)
قصص المراهقينCayda is journalist for her high school's school paper. She gets put into the worst position she could ever believe possible -- having to interview the school's golden boy. Find out what happens when the two are forced to spend a lot of time togethe...
