When we sat down at the lunch table across from Kelly, she turned her dazzling smile on Sam. “Hi, Allison. Hey, Sammy. It’s been a while since you had lunch with me.”

Sam reached into her brown bag and pulled out a ham-and-cheese sandwich. “Been making the rounds.”

“Hi, Kelly.” The frog was back in my throat again.

“Ribbit, ribbit,” Sam said.

“Ribbit, ribbit,” I answered. “Sorry, sometimes I sound like a frog.”

Kelly laughed. “Sometimes I sound like a chicken. Want to hear me?”

I nodded and the future debutante let out a loud “Bauk, bauk, bauk, bauk, bauk.”

Sam joined in, but I just watched. That’s how a reporter gets the scoop, by paying attention to the details. The noise spread from kid to kid, from lunch table to lunch table. Pretty soon most of the seventh grade was clucking and cock-a-doodle-dooing.

Coach Murphy blew her whistle until they stopped being chickens and went back to being kids again.

“That was fun,” Kelly said.

I hadn’t expected a deb to imitate a chicken. That would definitely make its way into my article. In spite of Kelly’s perfect hair, I really liked her. “Any chance I could interview you for the school paper?”

“Allie’s a good reporter,” Sam added. “She wrote an article about Penny and me that will be in the next edition.”

“Can’t wait to read it,” Kelly said, “but I don’t have a horse, not even a dog. What would you write about me?”

“I don’t know yet. Figuring it out is the fun part.”

“Maybe you could interview me in a couple of months. I’m really busy with cheerleading practice and some stuff at home.”

The way she said stuff at home caused my reporter’s antenna to hum. Kelly sounded sad. “I’ll buy you a cherry coke at Scott’s Drug Store.”

Kelly smiled. “You’re determined. I like that.”

Sam nodded her approval.

And that’s how I landed an interview with the head deb.

Scott’s Drug Store hadn’t been updated since the 1950s. I guess the owners didn’t have the money to fix it up. It was the kind of place that reminded me of Happy Days on TV. All we needed was the Fonz to punch the jukebox and yell, “Aaaaay.” I sat in a red vinyl booth facing Kelly. We both ordered cherry cokes.

“Where did you move from?” she asked.

“New Jersey.”

“That’s a long way and this is officially the middle of nowhere. Why here?”

“My grandparents retired to Blowing Rock, and my mom wanted to live closer to them.” I was surprised she was interested. “You ask as many questions as a reporter. If I tell Webb, he’ll pester you into writing for the paper.”

“Don’t tell him,” Kelly said. “Between cheerleading and fund-raising, I don’t have time.”

My reporter’s antenna went up. “What kind of fund-raising?”

A waitress in a pink uniform served our Cokes. “Had a chance to look at the menu?”

We ordered some french fries, and I tried again. “What kind of fund-raising?”

“For St. Jude Children’s Hospital.” Kelly swirled the straw in her Coke. “My sister has leukemia. She’s being treated at St. Jude’s.”

I should have known better, but I had expected Kelly’s life to be as perfect as her hair. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

“That’s why I’m organizing a car wash and a bake sale. To raise money for research.”

I started to get excited about the article. If it was good enough, maybe more kids would help with fund-raising. Maybe my story could make a difference. “Do you think your mom would give permission for us to print a photo of your sister?”

“Probably.”

“Webb’s expecting me to write about cheerleading, but I think fund-raising is more important.”

“The cheerleaders are all working at the bake sale,” Kelly said.

“They are? There’s my title—‘Cheering for a Cause’!”

“I like it,” Kelly said, “but if you’re going to write this story, you need to understand about Jenny’s treatments.”

I didn’t want to hear about that. Since Eric died, I felt everybody else’s sadness too, and it magnified mine.

“Jenny’s weak,” Kelly said. “She’ll probably be in a wheelchair. She’s lost all her hair, and she’s so skinny. It makes her eyes look huge.”

The more Kelly spoke, the sadder I became. That’s the problem with a reporter’s antenna: sometimes I discovered things it would be easier not to know.