“Cade!”
What does Mom want now? I glance away from our moonlit beach toward the limestone cliff and the stairs that lead to the inn. Waves slap against the ice, spraying cold water onto my jeans and jacket. I wanted five minutes to figure out how to tell my parents about the interview with Bethany Beshett, but even here I can’t have peace.
I check the time on my phone. Twelve more hours until the article goes live on the Lake Towns Journal website.
I hear Logan’s voice in my head. “That was amazing. We were amazing!” After the interview, I stood on the sidewalk in front of the library, looking up at Logan dancing on the top step, pumping her fists in victory. My grin hid the dread churning in my stomach, and even her hug goodbye when she dropped me off wasn’t enough to vanquish it.
“CADE!”
“I’m coming,” I call.
“I need you inside RIGHT NOW!!!”
With one more glance at the lake, I turn, sweep my flashlight several feet ahead, and sprint up the path I cleared for the wedding party. I mentally run through the chores I finished, trying to figure out what I might have messed up. I can’t think of anything. Mom opens the door wide, letting me pass.
“What’s all the racket?” Nana asks as I follow Mom into the kitchen.
“It’s nothing, Ma,” she says.
“It’s not nothing if you’re hollering like that. You could wake the dead.”
“Everything’s fine. I just need some computer help, that’s all.”
At the mention of computers, Nana frowns and heads toward her bedroom, but not before she murmurs her disapproval. I smile at her, letting her know I’ve got this. The last time Mom freaked out this much was when we received a negative review on TripAdvisor. It was from a woman who complained about a strand of hair she found on the suite’s bathroom floor. I was the one who carried the cleaning supplies and a basket of complimentary goodies to the room at 10:45 p.m. I was the one who scrubbed the bathroom as the woman stood over me with her arms folded across her chest in her sheer nightgown. And that strand of long black hair on the floor? It was hers. But did I point that out? Of course not.
Mom closes the apartment door behind us. She sits at the reception desk and moves the mouse. The computer screen comes to life. Her voice comes out in a soft hiss. “How do you explain this, Cade?”
I shake my head as if that’s not me, as if it’s a big mistake. It is a mistake. I was supposed to have time!
The article fills the screen. There’s the picture of Logan and me at the library, sitting side by side, looking into the camera. The inn’s logo is clearly visible on my shirt.
Mom’s voice is filled with controlled fury. “I got a phone call from Mrs. Stoke. Imagine my surprise when she told me about this article.”
There are already 82 shares and 41 comments!
I can’t breathe.
Through clenched teeth Mom says, “She informed me that Joe and Mary Bartley are her neighbors and best friends and that she won’t do business with someone who is out to destroy a great teacher’s reputation.”
Mom points to one of the last lines in the article.
“Cade and Logan do not want Bartley to lose his job. They believe the teacher and administration should apologize and acknowledge that the assignment was inappropriate and offensive.”
“Mrs. Stoke said you’re the ones who owe Mr. Bartley an apology. She canceled her daughter’s bridal shower and said that the wedding guests will no longer stay at the inn. How could you have done this to us, Cade?” She sets her hand over her heart. Her lips tremble.
“I—”
“How is it that you didn’t tell us about this assignment and your disagreement with Mr. Bartley and Principal McNeil? How is it that you spoke to Humanity for Peace and Justice and a reporter without talking to us first?”
Mom glances at our closed apartment door. “We’re not going to have this discussion here. I don’t want Nana to know about this.” Her anger hits me like a battering ram. The printer spits out the article and the first three pages of comments. Mom shuts down the computer, and I follow her upstairs.