An Unexpected Assignment

Aether

You could say I'm the type of girl who expects many things. I really am! Actually, I would say that I'm ready for anything that may cross my path. I built myself this way, to "expect the unexpected," as my fellow Oscar Wilde once said. Of course, he wasn't a journalist, but he knew this much!

I do confess, though, that I wasn't ready for the news I received this morning, and I'm the opinion editor of The Ivy, Everbrook University's student newspaper.

I stare blankly at my name written on the huge whiteboard in my course. It's really there, isn't it? Or maybe I just drank too much coffee last night and started hallucinating again. I rub my eyes, but the name is still there.

"Aether Everhart — Athletics Coverage: Everbrook Falcons Volleyball."

A tired sigh escapes my lips, and my shoulders instantly fall.

Of course. That's exactly what everyone at this university is worried about, covering what everyone wants to read.

I knew it. I just couldn't accept it.

What about the really important things happening? Why is no one talking about campus resources and student support? Or the limited funding for student organizations? For health students, journalists, artists?

When did our society become this vain?

I hear the excited whispers around me and the few complaints about the other topics, but I can't really focus at the moment. I can only walk to Mrs. Collins and hope for the best.

As I walk back to the classroom, I see her sitting in her chair, with that perfectly styled light brown hair that makes her look like an actress from the '80s. She blows on her coffee while reading the newspaper, of course. The irony: reading about serious issues while giving me all the superficial ones.

"Mrs. Collins? Could I talk to you for a second?" 

I call her with the most polite smile I learnt from my parents.

She lifts her eyes and stares at me through her cat-eye framed prescription glasses, blows on her coffee once again, and nods, inviting me closer.

I clear my throat, keeping my smile as I approach her.

"I would like to change my assignment."

She doesn't seem surprised.

"Why?"

I maintain eye contact and keep a calm tone as I explain my point.

"I believe 'The Falcons' already get enough coverage. They have a huge fan base, social media presence, the university's promotion..."

I make a brief pause to analyze her reaction but carefully keep going.

"If the objective of journalism is to give a voice to stories that no one pays attention to, and provide opportunities to change things, choosing the most famous team and topic on our campus seems too superficial."

Mrs. Collins lifts one of her eyebrows and places her mug on the table, intertwining her fingers.

"Interesting. You just gave me a full analysis of something you haven't investigated."

I blink slowly.

"Because we can clearly see the facts. They have all the support they need. With all due respect, I can't really see myself covering or vlogging about their routines. It doesn't match my style at all."

She looks at me and smirks, almost challenging me.

Oh, I don't like that. I don't like where this seems to be going.

"That's exactly why this is a good choice for you."

Mrs. Collins takes off her glasses and looks at me seriously.

"Aether, you know I really respect your abilities, but I do think that sometimes you forget something your mother always taught us about..."

Oh no.

Not this.

I hate this.

I feel my blood start to boil inside me and try to mask my growing frustration, but she keeps going.

"A good journalist doesn't choose what to cover based on what they know or think the conclusion may be. They cover stories to find out the truth."

Yes.

That's exactly what Claire Everhart — my mom, an ex-journalist and a professor at this university would say.

And that annoys me even more.

—————————————————————————

"I hate you, Aether Everhart!" 

Noah mumbles, looking up at his name on the campus board while I check mine for the fifth time, still hoping Mrs. Collins will show me some mercy and change my assignment.

"Aether, we're together again for this one!" 

Liv exclaims excitedly, holding my arm and making me wish I could spare her from my grumpy mood. But even though I was doing my best to hide it, Ace giggles, knowing too well how to expose me. He places his arm around my shoulders and whispers in a loud and clear voice.

"Congratulations! You've been assigned to cover the one story on campus that guarantees clicks, readers, and attention. You must be devastated."

I glare at him, and he is lucky we were born in a boring world with no powers, otherwise, I would shoot laser rays at him.

Ace carefully takes his hand off me, and I can only hear Noah sulking again.

"Y'all suck! Stop celebrating. Collins hates me!"

He crosses his arms, and I can almost see a pout, which is hilarious for a man as stout as him. But as quickly as the glimpse I had of his pout appeared, he changes his mood again, lifting his arms and dramatically complaining.

"Why am I not in your group? I literally covered campus life for The Ivy last semester!"

Ace snorts, crossing his arms.

"I guess you just told us the reason."

Ace gives a dramatic pause, clears his throat, and begins advertising Noah's headline from last semester.

"The Squirrel Problem: Are Everbrook's Squirrels Becoming Too Bald?"

The three of us hold back our laughter, knowing about the typo that made Noah's article get mentioned in all classes as an example of what not to do.

"I ruined journalism!"

Noah's dramatic ass changes moods again, reminding me why he chose to specialize in Arts.

"You misspelled one word."

I roll my eyes, trying to calm him down.

"I made researchers investigate it."

"Tragic."

Liv chuckles, and Noah continues.

"That's not the point. The thing is, why are you mad about being assigned to cover The Delicious Nest Kings?"

Ace immediately frowns and starts walking away.

"Oh please, spare me from this!"

"I'm dead serious." 

Noah holds my arm and looks me in the eye.

"I really hate you. You didn't even want it! Have you seen Ethan Carter's face on the posters? The marketing team knew exactly what they were doing! I was assigned to cover the Historical Archive."

He groans, and I grin, taking my brown notebook from inside my purse and picking up a pen.

This needs to be documented.

"First of all, you are part of the problem. Second of all, why do you think the marketing team chose to advertise Ethan's face when they were talking about values? Because apparently that's what sells, not the values behind students who spent years creating research and building something. Do people care more about the face than the cause behind it? What about the research teams, volunteers, organizations...?"

My three friends stare at me blankly, blinking slowly.

"Here we go again!"

Ace sighs, walking around.

Liv smiles, touching my shoulder.

"I think you drank too much coffee. You look and sound like a conspiracy theorist. Drop the pen."

I look at her, confused.

"Liv, this may be the beginning of us revealing the root behind all of this unfair and corrupt university scheme!"

She looks at me as if I were a conspiracy theorist indeed and focuses on the pen.

"Isn't this mine?"

"I borrowed it." I answer quickly.

"You're assuming they chose him because he's pretty."

I frown at Noah's speech. 

"Did they not?"

"I mean, yeah, he is really pretty. I'll give you that."

I frown harder and the blonde guy rolls his eyes.

"You're so boring, Aether. Of course he is the face of the campaign! He is the captain, the face of the team, and represents commitment, leadership, the whole 'we built something together' thing."

I get thoughtful for a second.

"Also, have you seen his serving skills?"

"You're talking about volleyball, right?" 

I ask, half of me already knowing the answer.

"Mostly."

"Noah!"

I can't contain a laugh. As I walk through the hallway with my friends, I can only see Ethan's face on the huge posters covering the walls. I scrunch my nose, and of course, Ace notices.

"You know, for someone who investigates stories, you seem to have this one all figured out already..." 

He teases me. He knows very well how much I hate it.

I feel like this is some sort of unfortunate circumstance and challenge, but exactly as my mother would say:

"A good journalist doesn't choose what to cover based on what they think they know."

I hated that she was right.