Just Be Cool, Jenna Sakai Read online

  I mentally kicked myself. I had no right to feel jealous. I was the one who’d left.

  Finally, Ms. Fontes came down the hall with her usual travel mug of iced coffee. I rushed to cut her off while she was still far enough away that no one could overhear our conversation.

  “Jenna!” Ms. Fontes seriously looked happy to see me. Relief and hope flooded me. “I’ve been wondering what happened to you. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, um, I had some, um, things come up.” Ugh. I was not good at concealing the truth. “Actually, I was stuck on that personal essay. I wanted to work on something else.”

  Ms. Fontes looked solemn. “I suspected something like that. Look, Jenna, I’m not going to force you to write that essay. This is a club, and I want it to be useful but also fun. You’re very talented, as evidenced by your article. Is that what you’re submitting with the scholarship application?”

  “What?”

  “The story on the cafeteria donation. It’s interesting.”

  My ears flamed, and I gripped my messenger bag. “What are you talking about?”

  Ms. Fontes cocked her head at me. “Did you not intend to send me your article this morning?”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Oh, no. I mean, yes, eventually I wanted to share it with you, but that was just a working draft. I must have hit send instead of saving it.” I was mortified. While I was proud of what I had so far, it was nowhere near ready to share.

  Ms. Fontes nodded. “Well, it’s a good start. It did seem to be lacking some focus. I’d be happy to discuss it with you. That is, if you’d like some feedback.”

  I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t able to take criticism. “I’d love that.”

  “And in case you haven’t heard,” she said. “We have been approved to put out a digital paper next year.”

  I wished I were able to twist the truth. I didn’t want her to know that this was the reason I was returning. “Um, yeah. Isabella mentioned it.”

  “Good.” Ms. Fontes waved her mug toward the room. “Shall we?”

  When we walked into the room, all activity stopped.

  “Jenna! You’re back!” Isabella stood and waved to me from our table. Caitlin and Laurel were sitting there, too. I joined them. Ben and Brody called out to me. The sight of the messy bulletin board, the mock layout on Ms. Fontes’s desk, and the ancient computers filled me with warmth. It felt like coming home.

  “Good afternoon, reporters,” Ms. Fontes said. She smiled my way, and I was grateful she didn’t make a big deal about me returning.

  “As you know, by the end of this semester, I will be assigning roles for next year’s paper. You will have to be flexible, however, and pitch in where needed since we won’t have a full staff. This means that even if you are assigned to be news editor, you may be asked to step in to write a movie review. There is also a good chance we’ll have more members next year.”

  There was an uproar of protests.

  “That’s not fair,” Thea said. “We’ve been working hard all year, and a new person will get to just come along and get choice assignments?”

  Ms. Fontes looked stern. “This is a club. That means learning, teamwork, and inclusivity.”

  We all got quiet.

  “Will there be an editor in chief?” Elliot asked the question that was top in my mind.

  “We’ll see,” she said. “Let’s focus on doing the best we can to prepare for this exciting endeavor.”

  Ms. Fontes had taken suggestions for fundraisers during the last meeting and written them on the board for us to vote on. Fortunately, the walkathon was voted down quickly. That did not sound fun. And as much as a school carnival appealed to all of us, we didn’t have the time or people to pull that off. The idea that won would provide the quickest results without a ton of work.

  “Weekly bake sale it is,” Ms. Fontes said. “Is there a day that would work best for everyone?”

  “How about Mondays?” Isabella suggested. “That way we can bake on a Sunday. I’ll bet students would be happy to buy a treat to start off the week. And bonus! Monday is Valentine’s Day! A perfect time to sell sweets.”

  I used every bit of willpower not to look at Elliot. We had once had a great discussion on the ridiculousness of Valentine’s Day and had promised each other we wouldn’t acknowledge it. That was one promise neither of us would have trouble keeping.

  As everyone got busy making a schedule, Ms. Fontes came over to me. “Jenna, while you don’t have to write the personal essay, should you ever feel inspired, I would be more than happy to read it.”

  I nodded. There was no way I’d ever write the thing, and I was glad to be off the hook.

  “Shall we discuss your scholarship entry?”

  “Great!”

  I pulled up a chair to Ms. Fontes’s desk. I noticed Elliot watching, and that made me feel smug. He probably thought I was already angling to be editor in chief. Well, let him.

  For once, all the pieces were clicking into place. Everything was finally going right!

  For the rest of the week, I threw myself into research mode. I went straight home after school or club so I could use my own laptop and our fast Wi-Fi. Working on this article was more important than my feelings of being alone in the house. I was so focused that I barely missed going to the diner, and I definitely didn’t miss Rin. I didn’t miss the way his pen moved across the paper, or the way he pushed his glasses up with his finger, or the way his hair sometimes fell across his eyes. I didn’t think about him at all.

  I found tons of articles on Rin’s dad, Kenji, and the conferences he was speaking at, and a mention in Forbes. Both of Rin’s parents made frequent appearances at Los Angeles openings of museums and restaurants, and just last week Rin’s mom had been photographed with a chef at a fancy restaurant opening.

  Elliot kept trying to figure out what I was working on. Sometimes he reminded me of my dad but not in a good way. Dad had abandoned me. Elliot had, too. And both of them thought it was okay to come in and out of my life whenever it suited them. Luckily, Elliot was easy to ignore.

  “Do you want to come over for the movie tonight?” Doug asked me at lunch on Friday.

  Keiko looked up from her sandwich. We had hardly spent any time together outside of game night. I missed her, but I had more important things to do.

  “I can’t.”

  Keiko’s shoulders drooped, but she didn’t try to convince me to join them.

  It was just as well. I had a month to get this article in perfect shape, and I couldn’t do that if I didn’t have the information I needed. There was only one way I could find out why Rin’s parents had donated the money, and this time I wasn’t going to be discouraged.

  “Jenna Sakai, nice to see you again.” Mr. Kim looked up from his screen as I poked my head into his office after the last bell rang.

  “Hi, Mr. Kim.” I plopped into the chair across from him and made a big show of taking out my notebook and pen. I wasn’t going anywhere. “I have a few more questions for you about the article I’m writing.”

  His smile faltered. Good. If I was making him uncomfortable, then I was onto something.

  “I know that Kenji and Traci Watanabe paid for the cafeteria renovation,” I said.

  “I’m impressed.”

  Just wait and see how much more impressed you are going to be, I thought. “Thanks, Mr. Kim. Now that you don’t have to worry about revealing their identities, I was hoping you could tell me the truth about a few other things.”

  Mr. Kim’s smile disappeared completely. “Jenna, I don’t think you understand what this donation was really all about.”

  “True,” I said. “That’s why I’m coming to you.”

  He paused. “Since this is for your scholarship application, I think it’s best that you find the information without my input. I’m a judge, and it might be seen as an unfair advantage.”

  Right. He was trying to get rid of me again. But I wouldn’t be easily pushed of
f. “I can see that, but—”

  “I’ll give you a little hint, though,” Mr. Kim interrupted. “Look more closely at Traci Watanabe. I mean very closely.”

  Interesting! I scribbled her name in my notebook and circled it three times. That was a good lead. I didn’t expect him to tell me much more. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

  When I got home, I was surprised to see Keiko waiting for me. I checked my phone and sure enough she’d texted that she was coming.

  “Hey,” I said, taking out my key to open the door. “Sorry! I didn’t check my phone till just now.”

  “Oh.” Keiko looked relieved. “I thought maybe you were ignoring me.”

  “What? No!”

  “Okay.” Keiko followed me into the house. After we both took off our shoes, we headed to my room and sat on my bed, backs against the wall. “What’s going on? I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”

  I started to shrug but then caught myself. The gesture belonged to Rin, and I did not want to think of him. I was so annoyed and frustrated by the way he’d tricked me that suddenly I couldn’t stop the words from pouring out of me.

  I spilled everything to Keiko—what I learned from Olivia and Mr. Kim for my article, how we were going to get a digital paper next year and I was determined to beat Elliot out for editor, and how Rin had lied to me.

  “What a jerk,” Keiko said, her hands turning into fists. “Did he admit it?”

  “No,” I said. “But how could he not know his parents had donated that much money?”

  Keiko cocked her head at me.

  “What?”

  “Did you give him a chance to explain? Or defend himself?”

  Whose side was she on? “He stormed off! That’s guilty behavior!”

  Keiko nodded. One of the qualities I appreciated about her was that she didn’t like conflict. She stood and stretched, changing the subject. “What’s that?”

  Keiko pointed at the manga portrait of me. I had it propped up on my desk.

  “Oh. Rin drew it.”

  Keiko sat at my desk and gingerly picked it up. “It’s you! And it’s amazing! You didn’t tell me he was an artist.”

  I hadn’t told her much about him at all. “It was a birthday gift,” I mumbled.

  “What?” Keiko squealed. “He drew you a birthday present? Jenna! This is huge!”

  “No, it isn’t.” I got up and took the drawing from Keiko and shoved it in a drawer. “He was trying to distract me from finding out the truth about his parents.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Besides, if he’s as rich as you say he is, why not buy you something flashy and expensive? This seems so much more personal.”

  Exactly. He thought one sweet gesture would have me falling at his feet like all those giggling girls at the coffeehouse and forgetting I was digging up dirt on his family. Which was why he wasn’t to be trusted.

  But I knew that look on Keiko’s face. She was no longer angry on my behalf. She was looking for the good, for the silver lining in all this. “You don’t think he was just … being nice?”

  “Rin and I are not friends, Keiko,” I said. “Mr. Kim gave me a lead, and I’m going to follow it. Whatever it is, I’m using it. If Rin’s family is hiding something, it’s my responsibility to report it.”

  “Fine.”

  “Keiko, don’t be upset with me.”

  She sighed. “I’m not. I just want you to be objective about this.”

  “I am being objective! Otherwise wouldn’t I kill the story to protect Rin?”

  “I thought you said you weren’t friends.”

  “We aren’t! This whole conversation is stupid.”

  Keiko went silent. But I didn’t need her approval. She didn’t understand how important this was to me. Why reporting the truth mattered so much. She never had to deal with parents who kept things from her. Her parents had never let their version of events drive a wedge between them. Perceptions could be twisted, but facts were concrete. So telling the truth was important. It was times like this that I missed Elliot the most.

  Keiko looked at her phone. “I have to get going to Doug’s. Are you sure you don’t want to come? His mom makes amazing meals.”

  I shook my head. “I have work to do.”

  “Okay. But just remember …” Keiko paused. “Sometimes the truth isn’t only one thing.”

  She left and an uneasy feeling weighed on me, but I shook it off. When it came to Rin Watanabe, I had to be objective, focused, and heartless.

  I spent the entire weekend researching with the exception of a couple of hours on Sunday afternoon. I’d asked Keiko to help me bake for the newspaper club fundraiser. I was relieved she’d agreed, and even though our conversation had been slightly stilted, at least she came over.

  On Sunday night, I ate a PB&J sandwich for dinner in my room so I could keep researching.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to watch a movie with me?” Mom asked when she came to get my empty plate.

  “I’m sure,” I said, jotting down more notes.

  “Can’t that wait?” Mom asked.

  I spun to face her. “Excuse me? Aren’t you the one who is always on me to study and get great grades?”

  Mom smiled. “Yes, but you can take a break once in a while. Come spend some time with your mom. I have a little free time right now.”

  I scowled. “I never guilt-trip you when you have to work. What I’m doing is important.”

  Mom sighed but left me to it. I closed the door so she wouldn’t bother me again.

  I’d spent the first part of the weekend reading about what Traci Watanabe wore to events and where she got her diamonds, but eventually I found something interesting. Traci Watanabe held no official title or role at the AkiWata Corporation, but she was the founder and sole chairperson of the Feed Schools Foundation. And she worked hard to keep it completely separate from the corporation and her family. Rin’s dad wasn’t mentioned anywhere on the foundation’s website. But lots of other stuff was.

  The charity provided funding to supplement the free lunch program in California. It also helped schools hire trained cooks for their kitchen staff.

  My mind was spinning. Rin’s mom ran a foundation to help feed hungry kids? That was pretty great. But it didn’t mean that everything the Watanabes did was great. I dug around the website trying to find out about our cafeteria renovation, but there was no mention of the donation. That was suspicious for sure. They were trying to keep it quiet as I suspected, but why?

  PV Middle could definitely use the money, but we weren’t in real need the way the Title I schools the foundation usually helped were. Was the donation some kind of tax write-off? Or a way to hide the money they made so they wouldn’t have to pay taxes on it? I kept reading, but all the articles I found about the foundation were full of praise. Gah!

  I rubbed my eyes and glanced at my clock. It was two a.m. I had to get some sleep, but I felt like I was so close to finding out vital information. It felt just out of reach.

  I blinked wearily, leaning back in my desk chair. My eyes caught on the manga drawing Rin had done of me. I’d taken it back out of the drawer the minute Keiko had left my room, and set it back up on my desk. It wasn’t that I was attached to it because Rin had drawn it. I loved it because it showed me as Super Cub Reporter. It was inspirational.

  So inspirational, I realized I’d overlooked the best source I’d ever find.

  “That’s it, Jenna,” I said out loud with disgust. “If only you had access to a Watanabe family member who could give you the scoop!” I should never have yelled at Rin. I’d let my anger get the better of me. A good reporter would have taken that unexpected information and turned it to her advantage. Instead of accusing Rin, I could have asked him for information.

  Maybe it wasn’t too late. If I apologized for snapping at him, he might be willing to tell me about his parents. And I had to admit, it was possible Rin hadn’t known about the donation. My parents never discussed finances with me. The o
nly reason I knew anything about them at all was because of the shouting matches they had had before the divorce.

  I hadn’t been to the diner in days. But I didn’t want to wait till after school to talk to Rin. And then it hit me.

  His sketchbook! It was still in my bag. I’d been so focused on research that I’d almost forgotten about it. Now it would come in handy!

  I had no idea what Rin’s personal email address was, but I did know his school account.

  From: Jenna Sakai

  To: Rin Watanabe

  Subject: Your sketchbook

  Hi! I have your sketchbook. I haven’t looked at it in case you’re worried about that. Let’s meet up by the front steps before school tomorrow so I can return it to you.

  —Jenna

  I hit send. All I had to do now was wait.

  The next morning, I woke up with purpose. Rin had to know—or at least be able to find out—something that would give my article the heat it needed to be a really great story. And I was going to do whatever I needed to find out.

  I waited in front of the school until ten minutes before the bell rang. He never showed up. I didn’t want to get marked tardy, so I went to social studies feeling frustrated. I wanted to swing by the music room during lunch, but I’d signed up for the bake sale, so talking to Rin would have to wait.

  I headed to the cafeteria carrying the chocolate fudge brownies Keiko and I had baked. I’d insisted on non-heart-themed brownies for the Valentine’s Day bake sale but had helped her top the strawberry-frosted cupcakes she made for Conner with a candy heart and a chocolate kiss. They were works of art.

  When I got to the cafeteria, I nearly dropped the brownies. Elliot was sitting behind the bake sale table. The chair next to him was empty. I was sure I’d signed up for a time slot with Isabella to prevent this awkward situation from happening.

  I plopped the plate onto the tabletop amid pink-frosted cupcakes and heart-shaped cookies.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “And where’s Isabella?”