Read Online Black and White and Gray All Over by Rachel Wise - Free Book Online Page A

LMK!
    It wasn’t even a minute before she replied.
    Y! Can’t wait! Thanks for asking!
    Good old Mom. She did give good advice, I had to admit. Conveniently, I pushed out of my mind her advice to invite one last person to do something. That was just not going to happen.

Chapter 8

SELF-INFLICTED INJURIES LEADING CAUSE OF DEATHS IN THE WORKPLACE

    I was walking at full speed, on my way for one last check of the Dear Know-It-All box before I picked a letter and drafted a reply over the weekend, when I crashed into Michael Lawrence, who was coming the other way.
    â€œWhoa!” he said, steadying himself against the wall.
    I slipped a little and banged my elbow against the molding on the wall.
    â€œOw!” I said, cradling my throbbing elbow. Self-Inflicted Injuries Leading Cause of Deaths in the Workplace.
    Michael laughed. “I should have known. It’s been about a full week since you’ve hurt me ordone something klutzy in front of me, Pasty. We were overdue.”
    â€œVery funny, not!” I said. “Ouch!” I moaned again.
    Michael was grinning at me.
    â€œWhat?” I asked.
    â€œNothing. I haven’t seen you in ages,” he said.
    â€œReally?” I asked. I was being defensive, since I knew exactly how long it had been, but when I saw the hurt look in his eyes I quickly realized I’d been too tough, bordering on rude, so I changed my tune. “I mean, I know! I noticed that too!” I wanted to add that I was surprised he had noticed since he’d been so busy with Miss United Kingdom, but I bit my tongue (not literally!).
    â€œWhat’s up with you?” he asked.
    â€œNot much. You?” I already knew the answer but had to ask out of politeness.
    â€œJust working. School, practice, and the paper. I miss—” But he stopped himself.
    â€œWhat?” I asked. Please say me! Please say me! I was thinking it so hard I almost thought he could hear me.
    â€œI miss your work ethic,” he said.
    Oh.
    â€œThanks, I guess,” I said, deflating.
    There was a tiny pause. “Anything you miss about me?” he prompted.
    â€œOh. Um. Your cinnamon buns?” I joked. Michael happens to make the best cinnamon buns in the world.
    â€œThat’s all?” He pretended to be wounded and staggered a little.
    I laughed. “No. I miss your steel-trap memory, too. I interviewed Pfeiffer this morning and it was a doozy! I wished I didn’t have to write everything down.”
    Michael was excited. “You interviewed him alone? How did it go? What was it about?”
    â€œThe school uniforms debate. He was very interesting about it, actually.”
    â€œWow, Paste. I can’t believe you dialed that guy up and just marched on in there all by yourself. Way to go!” We grinned at each other, and then he said casually, “So how is it working alone?”
    â€œOh, it’s . . .” I was going to fake it and say“great,” but that was mean, and it was actually the opposite of the truth. “It’s lonely,” I said, shrugging. “I miss having a partner.”
    Michael smiled. “That’s too bad,” he said.
    â€œThen why are you smiling?” I asked. I couldn’t believe I’d actually said that aloud.
    â€œOh, just thinking.”
    â€œHow is it with, uh, Kate Bigley?” I asked.
    Michael’s brows knit together the way they always do when he’s searching for the right thing to say. I gulped while I waited, wishing I’d never asked. Finally he said, “Uh, let’s just say you two have very different approaches to journalism.”
    â€œThat’s all?” I pressed.
    â€œPretty much all I can say at this point,” he said, looking away.
    â€œIs it going well?” I asked. I’m a fool. Why did I even want to know?
    â€œOh, yeah. Sure. It’s going pretty well,” he said. But he wouldn’t look me in the eye!
    Either