Read All About It! by Rachel Wise

help,” I said. I lifted Michael’s
     backpack from Mr. Pfeiffer and hoisted it on my back. It was heavy. “Ready?”
     I asked.
    Mary handed Michael the elevator pass, and we shook hands with Mr.
     Pfeiffer.
    â€œThanks again, Mr. Pfeiffer. You really made
     me see this in a whole new way,” I said.
    â€œGlad to help,” said Mr. Pfeiffer. “See you kids soon!
     And I’ll let you know what the superintendent says!”
    We walked out into the hallway and I suddenly felt really awkward.
    â€œI can carry my backpack,” said Michael.
    â€œWell, at least let me get you to the elevator,” I said.
    Michael shrugged. “Thanks. I don’t want to take you out of
     your way.”
    â€œIt’s not out of my way. I’ve got to go up to science
     anyway and the stairs are right there.” We were speaking like we were strangers.
     And suddenly I could see that in most ways, we were.
    Michael looked down at his elevator pass. “I’m only going
     one floor up to the nurse’s office. But it says I’m allowed to bring a
     friend on the elevator with me.”
    â€œOh,” I said, looking down at the elevator pass.
    â€œBut I’m not sure you’re my friend,” he said.
     “Friends don’t try to maim each other.”
    My head snapped up in shock, but then I saw that he was smiling.
    â€œI am your friend,” I said. And I smiled
     back.
    â€œOkay, then right this way. Good thing there’s a wide door .
     . .” He gestured me onto the elevator.
    â€œVery funny,” I said.
    I sighed as we climbed aboard. Martone Back from
     the Brink of Disaster, I thought.
    â€œI didn’t know you threw lefty . . .” I said as the
     doors closed.

    My mom was waiting for me when I got home from school that
     afternoon.
    â€œSamantha, Allie tells me you joined Buddybook without my
     permission,” she said before I’d even put down my messenger bag.
    â€œWell . . .” I was caught off guard. “I did, but
     I’ve already quit. Wait, when did she tell you?” Our mom had been at the gym
     when we’d left for school this morning, so we hadn’t seen her.
    â€œShe texted me,” said my mom.
    â€œThat is so annoying! Now she’s texting to meddle in my
     life?”
    My mom smiled a wry smile. “Isn’t that what socialmedia is all about? Meddling in people’s lives?”
    â€œYeah, it sure seems like it.” We walked up the steps to the
     kitchen and I started making a big snack of melted cheddar cheese on Triscuits. I was
     still suffering the effects of not eating lunch.
    â€œListen, sweetheart, Buddybook is a big commitment. I don’t
     want to see you wasting your time on it before we’ve had a chance to discuss our
     family’s rules and guidelines for using it. If you decide you’re going to do
     it again, you’ll need my permission.”
    I waved my hand at her. “Don’t worry. I’m over
     it,” I said.
    My mom looked at me for a long minute. Then she said, “Okay, but
     since I have your attention on the subject, there are just three things to always
     remember: One, only you can control your image online—written, video,
     photographic, all of it. And you need to be vigilant about it. Two, whatever goes online
     stays online forever. It never goes away. And three, never put anything online that it
     wouldn’t be okay for everyone to see, including me, or your grandmother, or Dr.
     Sobel . . .”
    Dr. Sobel is our dentist. “Mom!” I laughed.
    She smiled. “Just so you get my point. Anyone .”
    I nodded and started eating my crackers. “Okay. I get
     it.”
    We were quiet for a minute and then she said, “How’s the new
     curriculum?”
    â€œFine. Oh, that just made me remember . . .” I pulled the
     envelope out of my messenger bag and carefully