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April 15-April 21, 2007

April 15, 2007

“Get your hands off of me.”

“Pepper—”

“I said, get your fucking hands off me,” Pepper says louder.

I set down my spoon in my bowl of Cheerios and think about turning off the TV and heading into my own room, staying out of the way. I'm too slow to move, though, as Mike's door flies open. Pepper charges out, looking straight ahead.

“Pepper, where are you going to go?” Mike asks, following after her.

“Back to Massachusetts .”

“Pepper, don't leave like this.”

I slide my bowl onto the coffee table as quietly as I can, in hopes I'll be able to slip out of the room without them noticing me. The last thing I want to do is get any more involved with this mess.

Pepper spins to face him. “You slept with my cousin.” She slaps him across the face.

He keeps his head turned. “I'm trying to make this right.”

“You fucked my cousin,” she says louder, her voice shaking a little, and she slaps him again.

“I'm sorry.”

This time she punches him.

Mike stumbles back, holding his cheek.

“Did that hurt?” Pepper asks, then swings again.

Mike catches her by the wrist.

“Get your hands off me.”

There's a little cut under Mike's eye, and a drop of blood rolls down like a tear. “Pepper, calm down.”

“You have five seconds to let go of me before I kick you in the balls.”

It's pretty clear she's not bluffing and Mike drops her hand. He keeps his own hands up ready to block her next blow, but it doesn't come. Instead, she walks past him, headed back into the room.

“What are you doing?” Mike asks.

“Getting my stuff, and leaving.”

“Your flight's not for five hours.”

“I'll wait at the airport.” She storms past him, her duffel bag open, with a pant leg hanging out.

“Come on, let's at least get all of your things.”

“If I forgot something, you can mail it to me.”

“I'll hold onto it for you.”

“I never want to see you again,” Pepper says, flinging the door open and heading out to the hallway.

Mike turns to me for a second, then back toward the door. Wiping the blood off with the back of his hand, he follows after her.

April 16, 2007

“What have we got here?” I ask, finding Teri, her back to me, outside of a little circle of staff members at the center table of the office.

Teri turns and smiles, but there's something a little off about it. She sort of giggles. “It's, uh, my petition.”

“Petition for what?”

Teri moves some hair from her face. “Well, I decided I'm going to go for it. I'm running for SA,” she finishes softly.

I smile. I'm still not sure I like the idea, but I decided that whatever Teri wants to do, I'm going to support her. After all, who am I to say that she can't make this work—that she can't make some changes in the organization.

She sighs. “So you're mad, right? That's why I didn't want to tell you.”

I shake my head. “I'm only mad because I didn't get to be the first one to sign.” I say, stepping past her. She's already got 78 of the 100 signatures she needs. I add mine to the list.

“You're okay with this?” she asks.

“I'm okay with this,” I say, giving her hand a little squeeze.

“You guys aren't going to make out, are you?” Rich asks, walking away from the cluster.

I roll my eyes as Teri laughs, turning back around to look at her petition.

April 17, 2007

Sam and I head toward a booth at Luigi's pizzeria, waiting for our pizza to come out. It's Sam's treat, so I have an idea of where this is going.

“So go ahead,” I say. “Let's hear the pitch.”

“Excuse me?”

I list the points off on my fingers. “You wanted to take a break from the office. You said that you and I should grab a bite. Then you paid.” I let my hand drop. “We've been through this before, Sam.”

He nods. “All right, then you know the pitch.”

“You're going to tell me I should take over the paper next year.”

“The word ‘tell' is a little strong. I wanted to verify that you had come to the right decision.”

I smile, leaning back. “The RA life is pretty attractive. Free room on campus—a single at that.”

“And you become a follower.”

“That's funny, because everyone talks about RAs as student leaders.”

“But what would you be a leader of? A bunch of freshman who don't know any better than to listen to you? And after the first semester, you're just a glorified nark with a free room, following whatever your supervisor tells you to do so you don't lose that room,” Sam says, before taking a sip from his coke. “You take over the paper, and you make your own rules for the next year. That's real leadership.”

“And that, what, $100 a week stipend is going to pay for rent?”

“If all you care about is the finances of it, you'd might as well pick up two or three jobs—work full-time while you study.”

“The time would be about the same as being editor.”

Sam grins, stretching his arms across his side of the booth. “Are you really so opposed to taking over?”

“Well no, I'm just being a dick to you,” I say, shifting in my seat. “But honestly it's just a tough decision. Not to mention that I've got the SA election to consider.”

Sam gives me a look.

“All right, so I'm not that twisted.”

“Well that puts you ahead of your girlfriend,” Sam says. “But seriously, I want you to think about the responsibility here. You turn down the RA job, they've probably got 50 people lined who can take that spot. With Teri out of the picture, who else is going to take over the paper?”

I look away. “Someone would.”

“And you're ready to just pass the buck like that?” Sam asks. “ Preston , a newspaper is one of the cornerstones of a college community.”

“So you say. But most people would say the cornerstones are classes, and the residential experience—”

“And that's all well and good, but think about what a college paper represents. It's independent thought. It's challenging authority. It's the fucking search for truth and knowledge, which is what college is supposed to be about anyway.”

“Very moving.”

The guy from behind the counter shows up, setting down the pizza between us. “There you guys go.”

“Thanks,” Sam says, turning his attention to pizza. “Don't turn your back on this, Preston . Think about it.”

April 18, 2007

“So no surprise there,” Matt says over the phone. “Sam wants you to stay with the paper. It's his best shot at keeping the thing alive, and that's his legacy.”

“But he did have a point,” I say, standing here in line to get a bottle of juice at the café in the Student Center . “I mean, the paper is a pretty important part of the school—or at least it has been. And, if I stick around, it still can be.”

“Yeah, but you've gotta look out for yourself, Presto. I mean, if you want to be an RA, that means free living next year.”

“I know,” I say, watching the guy three spaces ahead of me in line finally take his order, carefully balancing three bagels on a plate, and two cups of coffee in his other hand. I wonder who wants hot drinks at this time of year. “But I'm not sure if the RA gig is the best thing for me. I mean, it's not like it's an easy job. You have to deal with emergencies and stuff, and write up your friends.”

“And all of those late nights in the office are so much better?”

“But the thing is that I like being in the office. I mean, there are nights when I wish I didn't have to stay as late as I do, but, in the end, I love that office, and the people. I just don't know if things could be the same I left that behind.”

“But is it going to be the same anyway with Teri gone?”

“Good point.”

“Of course,” Matt goes on, “if your heart's telling you to stick with the paper, that's what you've got to do.”

“Yeah, maybe. Hold on for a second, dude,” I go on, putting the phone down as I step up to place my order.

April 19, 2007

“All right,” Sam says, after Teri finishes speaking to the staff. “Sports, what do you have.”

Rich turns from the sports assistant he was flirting with up until that point, still laughing. She's a pretty girl, a freshman who looks a couple years younger. That's pretty consistent with what I've seen Rich go for. He clears his throat. “Good section this week, everyone. This week, I'm looking for people to cover the baseball and softball games on Saturday and Monday. Come talk to me if you want to write.”

“Sounds good,” Sam says, scanning the room. “Student Life, what's new in your world?”

Gabby twists the end of her hair around a finger, scrunching up her nose as she looks down at her notebook. It's funny the way she always seems to go through that same routine before she speaks. She's been reporting to the staff each Thursday for the whole year, and yet somehow, she still doesn't seem at ease. It's kind of annoying. She's not a bad writer, not a bad editor—she's just not confident at all. In a way, it's sort of endearing, though, the way she lacks any pretension.

As Sam continues to run through the sections, I think of what things would be like if I didn't work with the paper next year. I imagine Gabby or Rich would be the most likely candidates to take over the paper in that case. They're both sophomores like me, and I'm sure they could do some good things for the paper. But at the same time, I can't help feeling like I'm more ready than they are. Maybe it's the later nights, or working so closely with Sam and Teri. Maybe it's the stories I've had to cover. Whatever the case, I can't help thinking the paper would be better off if I came back to lead it.

I think about what my life would be like if I didn't return. I'm sure being an RA would keep me busy. But it would be strange not to have this place to come to. This office has been as much of a home base to me as the suite this year, and it's weird to think of having my own room be the place I work out of.

“News, what's the latest from you?”

I look at Sam, and picture myself in his role, leading the group, running the meetings. I think of the work involved—the power and the responsibility.

I look at Teri, as she jots down something on her steno pad. I remember what she said, about how she was offered the RA job, and turned it down, because she wanted to stay with The Window.

She looks up, making eye contact with me for a just a second.

“ Preston , what have you got?” Sam asks again.

I look down at my list of article ideas for the week, then back up, at all of the staff. “Before I get to my articles, I just wanted to let you all know something,” I begin. “I've decided that I'm going to run for editor in chief for next year.”

April 20, 2007

“All right,” Teri says, scrolling through her folder full of files at her computer in her room. She stops, double-clicking on a Word document. “What do you think?”

It's a flyer recommending people vote for Teri for Student Association Public Relations Manager. It has her name in large letters at the top, then the position, then directions on how to vote online.

“It's not bad.”

Teri exhales. “Well don't sound so excited.”

“I said it was good.”

“No, you said it wasn't bad. What would you do differently.”

“What does it matter?” I ask. “I mean, you said it yourself, the guy you're running against is a freshman with no real experience—you're going to win.”

“But I want to make sure of it. And in a sense, this flyer is like an audition. It's showing how effective I can be in running a publicity campaign,” she says crossing her legs, and cracking her big toe in her hand. “I want to make copies tomorrow, so go ahead, tell me what you would change.”

“Well, it's just that, the way I see it, there are two parts to advertising,” I say, looking at the screen. “One part is making people aware of what you're selling. The other part is making them want to buy it.”

“Makes sense.”

“So what you've got here,” I point at the screen, “is a good informational flyer. But it's not really going to sway someone to want to vote for you.”

“So you're thinking I should advertise my credentials.”

“Couldn't hurt. But more than that, I'd post your picture.”

“My picture?”

“You're a beautiful girl. You'd be surprised how many votes you'll get for that.”

“Would that make you vote for me?” she asks, leaning close to me.

“Depends how pretty the guy running against you was.”

April 21, 2007

“You doing all right?” Teri asks.

“Yeah,” I say, sort of out of breath, but feeling surprisingly fine. We've been running for about 15 minutes and are turning off of Main Street , onto the main campus now. I've been running with Teri a few times, but I actually am starting to see my endurance improve, and, it could just be my imagination, but I think I'm getting faster. At the least, I don't really notice Teri holding back for me anymore. “So let's talk flyers.”

“All right,” Teri says, hopping over a dog turd. “I was figuring I can hit all of the academic buildings that are open in the afternoon, and I'll grab the rest Monday morning. Then, if you wouldn't mind getting the dorms—”

“Not a problem. I'll nail them this afternoon.”

“Good. And that just leaves the Student Center and the dining halls.”

“Have you thought about going to Main Street ?”

“Yeah, but I don't know,” she says, knocking a stray hair from her forehead. “A lot of them have those signs about no solicitation.”

“But if you go and ask the managers, I'll bet they wouldn't say no. And if you make a good impression, they might even talk you up to their customers—get your name out to a different audience.”

“You know, Preston , you're not bad at this campaign stuff.”

“I know. You're pretty lucky.”

“I was going to say that it's a shame you're not as good at working on a newspaper.”

“Very funny.”

“Or as good at running,” Teri says speeding up, leaving me in her dust.