Most books are published quietly. They don’t get big ads in the newspaper, they don’t get written about in Time magazine, and they don’t get a publication party. If it’s a book by a famous author, or by an author that the publisher wants to impress, then the publisher might send out some invitations and throw a little party. Publishers do this to create some news and, hopefully, sell some books.
So when Zee Zee Reisman called Hannah in mid-April to suggest that Shipley Junior Books might want to throw a little publication party to launch The Cheater, Hannah’s first reaction was, “It’s a nice idea, but I don’t think it makes sense.”
But then her curiosity took over. All through the negotiations and the editing Cassandra Day and Hannah Nelson had never sat at a worktable together, never gone out to lunch, never even talked on the phone. She felt close to Cassandra Day and had loved their little exchanges about the manuscript. So she thought, Zee Zee’s right. A little party might be nice—and then I’ll finally get to meet this lady.
But Hannah had so much to do that she never focused on the idea. Letha had been piling extra work on her ever since the day she’d been appointed as Cassandra Day’s editor.
Then, three days after Zee Zee’s call, the first review arrived. It was from Kirkus Reviews, and the reviewer gave The Cheater special notice with a “star,” which is like giving a book an A++. Hannah liked the last three sentences best: “The Cheater grabs hold of your heart and never lets go. This writer speaks with a fresh and honest voice, something always welcome in middle-grade fiction. If this first novel is an indication of things to come, then Cassandra Day could emerge as a major new talent.”
With the review in her hand Hannah went upstairs to talk to Tom Morton. Hannah read him the review, and then she proposed a simple publication party on a Friday afternoon in June. Tom Morton agreed instantly, and that was that.
Getting back on the elevator, Hannah had second thoughts. Letha would not be happy about this party, and she’d be furious that Hannah had asked Tom instead of coming to her first.
Hannah almost stepped out of the elevator to go back and call it off. But then she stopped and let the doors glide shut. On the short ride from the sixteenth down to the fourteenth floor, she realized something: Letha was not as scary as she used to be. And then Hannah said to herself, No, that’s not it. Letha is actually scarier than ever. It’s just that I’m not afraid of her anymore.
Back in her office Hannah called and left a message for Zee Zee. She said there would be a small “pub party” in honor of Cassandra Day’s first novel. It would be on the sixteenth floor of the Shipley Publishing Company building on the second Friday in June. Zee Zee was free to invite anyone she’d like to be there. And everyone was very excited about actually getting to meet the author.
When Zoe got the phone message, she was excited, too. But she kept it to herself.
• • • • •
Natalie had finally gotten Zoe to shut up. For a solid week Zoe had bugged her and begged her and driven her batty. She wanted Natalie to ask her mom if she could bring Zoe and Ms. Clayton to see Shipley Junior Books—just to have a look around.
Natalie thought it wasn’t such a good idea, but Zoe wouldn’t let up. “It’ll be like a field trip for the Publishing Club—and besides, school’s almost over. Ms. Clayton probably won’t even be our teacher next year.”
Finally Natalie agreed to ask her mom if she could bring Zoe and her English teacher to see the publishing office—it wouldn’t be a long visit, just in and out.
And her mom said, “Of course you may, sweetie. Just bring them with you after school one day. If I’m too busy to show you around, Ella can do the honors.”
So it was all settled. They had an open invitation, and Zoe stopped pestering Natalie. And the day that looked the best for everyone was a Friday afternoon—the second Friday in June.
At three thirty on Friday, June 12, the editorial staff of Shipley Junior Books started straggling up to the sixteenth floor for the publication party. The manuscript had floated around a little, and there was a definite buzz about this book—and early in the day the third starred review had arrived. Everyone was excited about meeting Cassandra Day.
Hannah had already been up to the large conference room twice, once to check on the caterers, and once to be sure that the big banner had been hung up. When Hannah got off the elevator the third time, she could hear that the party had begun. As she walked into the room the first thing she noticed was the camera crew. A woman with a large video camera was taking a shot of the banner while a skinny young man behind her held up a bright light. The young man wore a jacket labeled ABC NEWS. A man with perfect hair, perfect teeth, and a pinstriped suit was talking with Tom Morton. Glancing across the room, Hannah caught the eye of Jody Cross, the publicity director. Jody nodded toward the camera crew, smiled, and gave Hannah a thumbs-up. Hannah smiled and nodded back. She was impressed that Jody had managed to get some news coverage of such a small event.
• • • • •
When Zoe and Natalie and Ms. Clayton arrived at the fourteenth-floor reception area, Phil buzzed them right in. Her mom wasn’t in her office, so Natalie just started walking her guests around the floor. Natalie had been dreading Zoe’s little field trip, but now that they’d arrived, she began to enjoy herself.
They started in the art department and slowly worked their way clockwise from area to area. It struck Natalie as odd that there were so few people around, but she just figured that people had left early on a Friday afternoon. It was nice because they didn’t have to be as quiet.
Natalie was showing them the stages of a book’s cover art, but Zoe interrupted her. “Let’s go find your mom, Natalie. You know, so we can ask her some questions too.”
Natalie shook her head. “If she’s not in her office, it means she’s busy. We’ll find her later.”
Natalie really understood the publishing process now, and Ms. Clayton had a lot of questions. It was fun to teach her teacher, and it would have been perfect, except that Zoe was so impatient.
They were almost back to her mom’s office, and Natalie was standing in Ella’s cubicle pointing at the huge pile of envelopes on her worktable. “And that’s the slush pile. I’ve seen it when it was even bigger.” Turning around, Natalie said, “And over there in Tim’s office—” She stopped midsentence. Letha stood in the corridor outside her office, ten feet away.
Crossing her arms, Letha walked toward them. She smiled faintly and said, “Well, this is a cheery little group . . . and I see you have a tour guide.”
Natalie gulped and said, “This is my friend Zoe and my English teacher, Ms. Clayton—and this is my mom’s boss, Letha Springfield.”
Ms. Clayton stepped around Natalie and held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Springfield.”
Letha looked at Ms. Clayton’s hand and then shook it briefly. “Yes. Well. We’re happy to have you visit us.”
Natalie said, “We . . . I was going to wait for my mom, but I don’t think she’s back yet. If she’s not back in a few minutes, then we’ll just go. We don’t want to bother anyone.”
Letha said, “Actually, your mother is . . . just upstairs.” Then with an amused smile she added, “But I know she’d want to see you . . . and your friends, too. Just take the elevator up to the sixteenth floor. And be sure to tell her that I sent you to see her.”
Natalie nodded and said, “Sure . . . okay. Thanks.”
And Letha said, “Oh, you’re quite welcome.”
• • • • •
As the elevator door opened onto the sixteenth floor an alarm went off in Natalie’s head. It didn’t sound right. It sounded like . . . like a convention or something. Her first instinct was to push another button—any button—and get away fast. Before she could act, Zoe grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the elevator. Ms. Clayton followed, and Zoe headed right toward the open double doors of a large room where fifty or sixty people were standing around in small groups, talking loud enough to be heard over the talking of everyone else.
Natalie said, “Zoe! I don’t think we’d better—”
But Zoe said, “Look, there’s your mom,” and she tightened her grip on Natalie’s hand and headed straight toward Hannah Nelson like a locomotive. Ms. Clayton stopped in the doorway, just barely overcoming her urge to flee.
Halfway across the floor Natalie saw the banner:
THE CHEATER
BY CASSANDRA DAY
CONGRATULATIONS
TO OUR NEWEST AUTHOR!
The camera operator swung to face Zoe and Natalie, and her assistant turned on the lights. All but a few of the people at the edges of the room stopped talking. Everyone craned their necks to see what the camera was targeting. Natalie tried to make sense of the scene around her, but it was happening too fast. In another three seconds Zoe was standing in front of Hannah Nelson.
Hannah had been talking to Tom Morton, trying to act completely at ease. So what if the guest of honor was already thirty minutes late? The lights from the camera suddenly blinded her, and when she looked again, Zoe and Natalie were standing right in front of her.
Zoe looked up into her face and said, “Mrs. Nelson, I know this is going to be a shock, but I want to introduce you to Cassandra Day.”
Hannah looked from Zoe to Natalie and then over their heads. Standing in the doorway of the room was a shy-looking young woman wearing a black skirt and a green cardigan sweater. Hannah’s face broke into a relieved smile, and she said, “Well, this is . . . great. Come on, Tom, let’s go welcome her.”
Zoe looked over her shoulder and then turned back and said, “Mrs. Nelson, that’s not her.” Putting her arm gently around Natalie’s waist, Zoe said, “This is Cassandra Day. That’s her pen name. Cassandra Day is Natalie Nelson.”
The camera operator saw it all. As the tape rolled she thought, It doesn’t get better than this. And she was right.
The camera saw everything so clearly. It saw the woman look at the girl, completely baffled. It saw the mother’s eyes widen, her eyebrows furrow into a question mark and then smooth to understanding. It recorded the ballet of emotions that danced across both faces.
The microphone heard the woman’s sharp intake of air, almost a gasp, and then the long breathing out, almost a sigh. And it heard the girl whisper, “It’s true, Mom.”
Mother and daughter looked at each other for a long moment, and when they hugged, the people and the room and the building and the city around them disappeared.
Pulling away, Natalie looked around and then reached out to take Zoe’s hand. “And Mom, this is Zee Zee Reisman.” The woman’s face did another dance, and then the hug held three.
And standing over in the doorway, tears streaming down her cheeks, Ms. Clayton felt as if she’d just won the New York Marathon.
The publicity director dabbed a tear from her eye and whispered to Tom Morton, “I don’t know how Hannah got ABC News to show up, but I’m sure glad she did.”
Tom whispered back, “She didn’t set this up, Jody—she said you got them here.”
The camera was there because Zoe had sent her advance reading copy to a producer at ABC, along with a full explanation of the story behind the book. And she guaranteed the producer that the author would be revealing her identity at a publication party on the sixteenth floor of the Shipley Publishing Company building at four o’clock in the afternoon on the second Friday in June.
• • • • •
The Party was pretty much over by 4:30, and Tom Morton invited all the Shipley employees to get an early start on the weekend. After Zoe and Ms. Clayton said good-bye, Natalie and her mom walked the eight blocks to the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
It was a beautiful June afternoon, but neither of them noticed the blue sky or the springtime bustle along Eighth Avenue. They were too busy. The walk was one long question-and-answer session, punctuated by bursts of laughter, half a dozen hugs, and outrageous impersonations of Zee Zee the agent and Letha the fire-spitting boss.
When their bus rolled down the ramp toward the Lincoln Tunnel, mother and daughter sat side by side, exhausted but glowing.
Hannah cleared her throat. “You know, I almost didn’t want you to read this book by Cassandra Day—because of the parts about Angela and her father. I thought those sections might be too hard on you.”
Natalie nodded. “Those parts were hard to write. But I wanted to remember Daddy. I wanted to feel what it would be like if he was still here. I don’t want to forget about him, not ever.”
“Of course not. You won’t. He’d be so proud of you right now.”
Natalie looked up into her mom’s eyes. “Do you think so, Mom?”
Her mom nodded. “I know so.”
• • • • •
Two weeks later ABC ran a half-hour story on one of its weekly news shows. The segment was called, “The Publishing Club.” The man with the perfect hair and the perfect teeth sat in the studio talking with Zoe, Ms. Clayton, Natalie, and Hannah Nelson. As the story unfolded, the viewers saw location shots of the Deary School, the Linden Room, Shipley Publishing Company, Offices Unlimited, and the law firm of Crouch, Pruitt, and Reisman. At the right places in the story there were short interviews with Arthur Archer, Tom Morton, Robert Reisman, and Fred Nelson. Letha Springfield even got a little airtime, just enough to smile into the camera and say, “I guess it’s just the result of experience, sort of a sixth sense I have, but somehow I just knew that Hannah Nelson was the right editor for this book.”
The program was perfectly timed with the publication of The Cheater. It offered the kind of opportunity that a good publicity director dreams about. Jody Cross went right to work, and during the next two weeks Natalie and Zoe spent a lot of time on TV talk shows. They were on Nickelodeon News for Kids, plus their picture was on the cover of People magazine.
The production manager at Shipley Junior Books almost went crazy trying to keep up with the demand. By the end of August the hardcover book had been reprinted six times, and it was number five on the New York Times Children’s Bestseller List.
Zoe Reisman received six offers to purchase the rights to use the name of her company, the Sherry Clutch Literary Agency. After consultation with her lawyer, each offer was refused.
Three weeks after the program aired on ABC, the president of one of the largest publishing companies in New York called Letha Springfield. He asked her to become the vice president and editorial director of his Children’s Division, and he promised that she would have complete editorial control. His offer was accepted.
By mid-August applications for new student enrollment at the Deary School had reached an all-time high. Arthur Archer and the board of trustees sent a letter of commendation to Ms. Clayton for “embodying so well the ideals of the Deary School.” And Mr. Karswell asked her if she’d like to go kayaking some Saturday morning.
The fall alumni newsletter of the Bank Street Graduate School of Education featured an interview with Ms. Laura Clayton. The last question was the hardest for her to answer.
BANK STREET COLLEGE: If you had to give one piece of advice to the men and women who are preparing to become teachers, what would that be?
LAURA CLAYTON: I’ve been a teacher for only two years now, so I can’t pretend to be some great expert. But I think it’s important not to be afraid. Don’t be afraid to really listen to your students. Remember what it was like to be a kid, and how brave you had to be to try something new. As a teacher, I want to try to be as brave as my students have to be.
One week after the departure of Letha Springfield, Hannah Nelson was promoted. She became the editor in chief of Shipley Junior Books. It was a big jump for her, but Tom Morton felt sure she could handle it.
Sitting in her new office, Hannah Nelson looked out at the Manhattan skyline. She picked up a copy of The Cheater off her desk. Opening it, she stared at the title page. She smiled, closed the book, set it back on her desk, and turned to look out the window again.
Then she remembered something. Months ago she had asked Cassandra Day for the last few bits of text needed to complete the book. She recalled handing the note with those final words to her editorial assistant, with instructions to be sure they got added in the right place. Spinning around, she grabbed the book and flipped it open.
There. Just past the title page.
It was the dedication.
Of course, thought Hannah. How could it be anything else?
for Dad and Mom,
for Zoe and Ms. Clayton
—N. N.
On the Saturday afternoon before Labor Day the girls sat on the front steps of Zoe’s house eating Italian ices, strawberry for Natalie and lemon for Zoe. It was the first time they’d been together in a month.
Natalie and her mom had taken a trip to the Grand Canyon with Uncle Fred. They stayed at the campground in the forest on the North Rim. It was her mom’s first two-week vacation in four years. They did a lot of hiking, and a lot of just sitting around, talking, and reading. The peace and quiet was just what Natalie needed.
Zoe and her mom and sisters had spent August at their farm in Connecticut, and Mr. Reisman had driven up on weekends. Zoe loved being at the farm, but the peace was a little too peaceful and the quiet was way too quiet. By the middle of the second week Zoe couldn’t wait to get back to the city.
But summer was over now, and school was in the air. Zoe pulled the little wooden spoon out of her mouth and said, “Too bad we don’t have Ms. Clayton for English this year.”
“Yeah,” said Natalie. “And I heard that Mr. Allston is a lot harder, too.”
They fell silent again, spooning out chunks of the sweet flavored ice and trying to imagine what seventh grade would be like.
Zoe said, “So, what are you going to do with your first royalty check?”
Natalie shrugged. “College fund, mostly. I might get to spend some, but not much. And there won’t be any money coming until next March, you know.”
“I know,” said Zoe. “I know exactly when the royalties get paid, because agents don’t get paid until authors do. The checks come every six months. And I know about how much I’m going to get from that first check too. My dad helped me figure it out—it’s fifteen percent of whatever they pay you.”
Natalie blushed. “I know that’s what the contract says . . . but really, Zoe, you should get a lot more than that. I mean, without you that story would just be sitting in a pile at my house.”
Zoe wiped a drip off her chin and shook her head. “Maybe so . . . but without your book there’d have been nothing. I helped get it to the right person, but after that, it was all you. My share’s just right.”
They were quiet, eating again.
Then Zoe said, “You know, when you write another book, Natalie? It won’t hurt my feelings if you want to hire a real agent.”
Natalie stopped, a last bit of strawberry ice halfway to her mouth. “What, are you crazy? Who could be more real than you?”
The friends looked at each other and smiled.
And Natalie thought, The way this feels right now? I want to put this feeling into a book someday.
