Campus headlines and the Quarterback

"Emma Green! The editor - in - chief wants to see you, now!" The door to the school newspaper office burst open, and my pen tip skidded a long mark across my notebook. I looked up and glared at the intern who had barged in. He shrank his neck but still insisted on standing at the door waiting for me. "Tell him I'll be there in five minutes," I said without looking up, continuing to write my investigative report on the school cafeteria's hygiene rating. "This report is going to be published tomorrow, and I have to—" "He said it's about the interview with Wilson." My pen stopped completely. The entire office suddenly fell silent, and I could feel all eyes on me. I slowly raised my head, making sure my expression was calm enough. "Tell Editor - in - chief Anderson I'll be there in thirty seconds." As soon as the intern closed the door, I slammed my notebook on the desk. "Damn it!" Liz poked her head out from her seat, her blonde ponytail swaying with her movement. "I'm guessing you don't want this assignment?" "I want evidence of the cafeteria using expired ingredients. I want to expose the principal for embezzling club funds," I said through gritted teeth. "But I definitely don't want to interview that arrogant Carter Wilson!" "All the girls in school would love to interview him," Liz shrugged. "The quarterback of the football team, state champion for two consecutive years, and he looks like a younger version of Chris Hemsworth..." "And he's as arrogant as Julius Caesar," I rolled my eyes. "Remember when he cut in line in the cafeteria last time? When I pointed out that it was against school rules, he actually said to me, 'Sweetheart, rules are for ordinary people.'" Liz couldn't help but laugh. "So he called you'sweetheart'? That's kind of cute." "That's called sexism and a sense of privilege," I grabbed my notebook and voice recorder. "Just you wait. This interview will make him regret provoking Emma Green." The door to Editor - in - chief Anderson's office was half - open. I tapped on the doorframe. "Come in, Green," Anderson said without looking up. He was editing a report on his computer. "Close the door." I did as he said and then spoke directly. "Sir, I think it's a mistake to send me to interview Wilson. I'm an investigative journalist, not a gossip columnist. And there's some... history between us." Anderson finally looked up and pushed his glasses up. "That's exactly why I'm sending you. The school newspaper needs clicks, and the headline 'Feisty Emma vs. Golden Boy' has been in my head for a week." "This isn't a reality show. This is journalism," I protested. "This is a high - school newspaper, Green," Anderson sighed. "Look, I know you'd rather do hard news, but this interview was personally requested by the principal. Wilson led the team to another crucial victory, and the school wants to promote it. Finish this assignment, and next week I'll approve your investigation into the club funds." I bit my lower lip. It was a temptation. I'd been preparing the investigation into the club funds for two months. "Deal," I finally said. "But I'll conduct the interview my way." Anderson gave a victorious smile. "As long as it doesn't lead to a lawsuit, do whatever you want. The interview is scheduled for 3 p.m. today, behind the gym." "Why there?" "Because Wilson requested it," Anderson shrugged. "Star privilege." As I turned to leave, I heard him add behind me, "Oh, Green? Don't piss him off. We need his fan base to boost the school newspaper's popularity." Without looking back, I gave an okay gesture, already starting to think about how to make this interview... interesting without violating my professional ethics. At 2:55 p.m., I stood on the lawn behind the gym. It was far from the main teaching building, and it was so quiet that I could hear the rustling of the wind through the oak leaves. I checked the battery level of my voice recorder and went over my list of prepared questions again—most of them were standard sports interview questions, but I'd secretly slipped in a few about student - athlete privileges. "You're early." A deep voice came from behind me. When I turned around, the sunlight almost blinded me. Carter Wilson stood there, his silhouette gilded by the backlight. He was taller than I remembered, with well - defined muscles on his arms in his tight - fitting training T - shirt, and his blonde hair was still slightly dripping from a recent wash. "Professional habit," I said calmly, pointing to my watch. "Punctuality is basic courtesy." Carter grinned, flashing that perfect smile that made all the girls in school scream. "I thought school newspaper reporters were all nerds. I didn't expect to see such a hot one." I took a deep breath and pressed the record button on my voice recorder. "Mr. Wilson, as a school newspaper reporter, I have to remind you that sexually harassing remarks may affect the interview atmosphere." His smile froze. "Whoa, just a joke. Relax, Green." "It's Emma," I corrected. "Shall we start? First question: As the most high - profile athlete in school, do you think this kind of attention has affected your academic performance?" Carter frowned. "What kind of question is that? I thought you'd ask about the game." "This is a comprehensive interview," I smiled. "Readers want to know the whole Carter Wilson." The next twenty minutes were like a tug - of - war. I asked pointed questions, Carter answered with athlete - style clichés, and then tried to use his charm to change the subject. But to my surprise, when I asked about athlete academic preferential treatment, his reaction was unexpected. "Look," he suddenly grew serious, his blue eyes looking straight into mine. "I know what you think of me—just another muscle - brained jock who coasts on sports. But have you ever thought that maybe some athletes actually care about their studies?" I raised an eyebrow. "Like you?" Carter seemed about to say something but changed his mind. "Forget it. It doesn't matter. Any other questions?" Just as I was about to press further, a football came flying from a distance, straight for my head. Before I could react, Carter had moved like lightning and caught it just inches from my face. "Hey! Sorry, Carter!" a team member shouted from afar. Carter threw the ball back and then turned to me. "Are you okay?" Only then did I realize I'd been holding my breath. "I... I'm fine. Thanks." He nodded and then looked at his watch. "I have to go to training. Is the interview over?" "Just one more question," I asked on a whim. "If you didn't play football, what would you do?" Carter's expression softened, almost... shy? "Maybe study classical literature," he said softly, then quickly added, "Don't put that in the report." I was so surprised that I forgot to press the stop button on the recorder. Classical literature? This answer didn't match any of my preconceptions about him. "Why classical literature?" I couldn't help asking. Carter shrugged and regained his cynical smile. "Who knows? Maybe I'm a nerd at heart. See you later, Green." He turned and walked towards the gym, leaving me standing there with the recorder still running. I looked down at my notebook, which was almost blank except for the first few questions. This interview hadn't gone as planned at all.