The Cataylst

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Our editor, Jannie, a sixteen year old with a tight, black ponytail and thick rectangular glasses, said. She clicked her tongue and frowned as she reviewed my most recent article, dropping it on the desk with disbelief. 

“Oh come on, it’s not like there’s anything that bad in there!” I argued with a tone I hoped was convincing.  

“There is no possible way that we could publish it. I mean some of the stuff you’ve written here is deeply personal information about members of our study body. Mrs Smith would go nuts! And seriously, everything in here…I mean is it even true? If we release false information, we risk people questioning the integrity of our entire publication. We’re supposed to be an unbiased and accurate source of news, remember?” Jannie said, using an obnoxious voice of unwavering authority. 

“Ugh Jannie, please?” I whined,”I already spoke to the principal about it, and she was on board with the new column under the condition that I not include anything too explicit. In fact, Mrs. Smith even seemed to be a bit excited over the prospect. I bet even she thinks the newspaper has been a bit boring recently, just like everybody else, including me.”

“Kate, I cannot in good conscience include this piece. Sure, the thought of it is somewhat compelling, but what real benefit would it have? The whole idea of a gossip column is so juvenile, so trashy. And in a town as small as ours, there is little privacy as it is. The column would just feed the rumor mill. Besides, such a thing really has no place in a highschool newspaper. We’re supposed to be covering topics that foster a healthy school community; football games, band recitals-” 

“But all of that shit is so boring, and you know it Jannie,” I interjected.”If we keep reporting on such mundane, inconsequential material then pretty soon we’ll have no readers, and then no newspaper at all. You know how we’re supposed to track the number of copies purchased each month? Well, I did, and last month we had five. Five. And one of them was me. That’s depressing as hell. And yes, I get your point, a gossip column doesn’t have much gravity like the big, worldly news that we’ve always dreamed of reporting, but we are not allowed to write about pop culture anyways. And, I cannot write one more damn piece about a bake sale.I refuse. Besides, I can give you at least one real benefit the column would have; it would certainly boost student engagement. And it’s really not feeding into the rumor mill if everything I write is true, is it? Come on, just read it once more, but this time keep an open mind. After you do that, if you still hate it, then I’ll drop the subject. Well, I’ll probably pester you a little more, but then I’ll drop the subject. Please, just one more time,” I pleaded, giving her my most charismatic smile. 

“Fine, I’ll read it again. But stop smiling like that’s. It’s creepy. Oh, also call a few other people in here to listen. I want some outsider opinions.” 

I went out of Jannie's “office”, which was a small section of our school's basement art room guarded by a sheet hanging from a rod attached to the ceiling. Our supervising teacher for the paper was the art teacher, Ms Feltch, who spent most of her time asleep at her desk in the corner. I gathered a few other students on the newspaper staff, and soon we were all crowded in a semi circle at the foot of Jannie’s desk. 

With slight hesitation, she began to read. 

“Hello students of Rangeview High! I, your friendly writer, have quite the story for you today. Only, it’s not a story at all, as everything you are about to read is entirely true. Tell me, have you ever caught yourself wondering about the secret lives of your peers? Have you ever found yourself speculating about the personal information of your classmates, or even members of the faculty? Maybe you wonder if your cute bio partner is single or if your sexy English teacher has some special extra credit options? Ew! Kate, what the fuck, that’s disgusting!” Jannie exclaimed. I shrugged with false innocence. 

“Just keep reading,” I implored. 

She sighed dramatically and shook her head with remorse.“ Well if this is the case, then you’re in luck! With much excitement, I welcome you to the Rangeview High Chronicle's first ever gossip column, where I tell you anything there is to know about anyone in our seemingly uneventful school district. However, I assure you, behind the most calm facades, the juiciest secrets lie. In the future, I encourage you to email the newspaper with tips and insider information about any scandalous on goings at the school. Want to back stab a friend or get revenge on a crappy ex? Contact me at emilyH’sdadishot_@icloud.com, and let chaos ensue! Now, without further ado, let’s get into today’s gossip sesh. 

Let me introduce to you a girl who needs no introduction; the renowned Rachel Polanski! Que applause! Now, we are all perhaps a little too familiar with little Miss Polanski, or should I say, little Miss Perfect. A varsity starter on the volleyball team, AP course conqueror, STUCO member, Rachel is a-shoeing for valedictorian of her graduating class and an acceptance letter from any college she likes. Oh, and we can’t forget to mention what is, without room for debate. her most significant achievement; winning the coveted affection of Rangeview’s hottest hunk, starting quarterback Chase Jackson! With Chase’s smile that is so bright it probably releases UV rays (seriously, somebody sign this guy up for toothpaste commercials!) and Rachel’s structurally perfect nose, which by the way I’m pretty sure her Daddy bought her for her sixteenth birthday along with her enviable black Bentley, they seem to be the IT couple of the century. However, we were all, until now, tragically unaware of what goes on behind closed doors, specifically those of Mr. Johnson's red Subaru in the staff parking lot. Uh, oh! Have I said too much? I guess there’s no point in stopping now… 

At one point or another, I guarantee little Ms. Perfect Polanski has beaten you out for something you’ve wanted, whether it be she won against you in the potato sack race in 3 grade or stole your spot in an honors program, at some time we’ve all been second to Rachel. However, it is with enthusiastic delight that I announce, it seems the Evil Queen’s reign of terror is over. But alas, even her fall isn’t without over achievement being as somehow she managed to cheat, in both senses of the word, at once. She cheated on her most recent AP Biology test, on which she got a 100% by the way, by letting Mr. Johnson sneak a peak beneath those notoriously atrocious, but very tight, sweater vests of her’s. Then of course, she also cheated on poor Chase by sticking her tongue down Mr. Johnson’s throat, which I unfortunately witnessed first hand. Now, of course it is possible that Rachel’s actions could be justified using the reasoning of scientific inquiry. Perhaps she was just doing an in depth study on Mr. Johnson's pharynx and larynx in relation to an upcoming quiz, however in such a case she’d probably want to use her eyes, not her lips. Besides, it seems to me that the situation was less about Biology, and more a matter of Chemistry. (I know that was corny but I had to. Sorry, not sorry)

“Holy shit, Kate, that’s brutal,” my friend, Marcus, said,shaking his head, but also chuckling. 

“Yeah, you tore her to shreds. And how do you even know all that?” another girl, Sophia, asked. 

“Like it says in the article, I saw them.” 

“Are you sure it was them?” Jannie pressed. 

“Yes, definitely,”I said with a nod. Okay, in all honesty it was less of a “definitely”, and more of a “possibly” situation. It’s true I saw Rachel with somebody in the back of a red car in the staff parking lot. I’d been walking to my Dad’s truck after choir rehearsal, when I saw her with a guy, entangled. It was getting dark out, but I knew that Mr. Johnson had a burgundy Subaru, and after hearing from a friend about Rachel’s remarkable score I’d thought that I’d put the pieces together. I mean surely, a perfect score on that test was unattainable, right? After all, I’d taken it after studying for hours, and only received an 82%. So, naturally I began writing the article, thinking that everybody should know the truth about Rachel’s wrecked ways. It was only until I reread the article a couple of times that I realized perhaps there was a slight chance she hadn’t been with Mr. Johnson in that car, or that it wasn’t actually his car at all. Chase’s mom worked as a receptionist at the school, and drove a red Toyota Highlander that I could have easily mistaken for a Subaru, especially in the dark…And, I mean, I never technically saw Mr Johnson’s face, just the back of his head, which was covered in brown hair that was admittedly a similar shade to Chase’s…But by the time all this had dawned on me, I had fallen in love with Rachel’s section of the article. I mean, it was sensational! Captivating! Scathing! And the whole basis of the story, good girl gone bad, is something that we can all appreciate. Besides,her fall from grace would inevitably take place at some point, I’d just expedited things. Better it happened to her now, in her sophomore year of high school, before she got out into the real world where shit like this actually affects people beyond some mildly intense, but completely endurable, tormenting, right? 

Before I could think about it much more, I politely urged Jannie to continue. “Just read the damn article before it catches on fire from global warming, okay?”

“Jeez, fine.”

She finished the article, which included several more stories on various people around the school. A love affair between two of the lunch ladies(might wanna think twice before the next time you get a sloppy joe), a fraudulent student council presidential election(what can I say, political scandals sell!), and even some football player on football player action (save the dog piling for the field, boys!) I must admit, I didn’t technically have any “evidentairy support” for any of these stories as most of them, okay fine, all of them came directly from the lips of my friend Stacy, a quiet girl who I sat next to in English who had an unrestrained, violent hatred for practically everyone in the school. But, whatever, there was a decent chance that some of what Stacy told me she saw could have actually taken place. Okay, the lunch lady one might have been a bit of a stretch considering they were both married and devout Catholics who openly discriminated against the schools LGBTQ+ population by giving them a smaller portion of mash potatoes, but you can’t tell me that the idea of two lunch ladies getting down in nothing but their hair nets isn’t hilarious? 

By the time Jannie finished the final line, the audience was both mystified and disturbed. However, above all else, they were rapt. The crowd sat completely silent with a collective look of shock on their faces. Considering the deteriorated attention spans of my generation, the fact that they were all engaged was nothing short of exceptional. 

“Well,” Jannie started, adjusting her glasses.”I don’t know what to say. I mean the first thing that comes to mind is “gross you little pervert” because how the hell did you find all this stuff out? And how come every single story had a sexual element? And also what was with the oddly specific details? Like how do you know that one of the football players was wearing a bedazzled thong… Whatever, I don’t need to know where you get your information, as long as you can assure me your sources are reliable, I trust you. Now, although I still believe the very notion of a gossip column is unethical and invasive, and while this article is practically smut, even I must admit that this is really something. I mean look at you guys, you look stupefied. Especially you Marcus. You look like you just watched Meghan Fox take her shirt off.” 

Marcus sat, looking dazed. “No, I just didn’t know that lunch lady Rosita was freaky like that.”

“Okay well, if everyone else will be as invested as you guys, then I suppose we ought to publish it. Just promise me one thing,Kate? Next time, don’t make me read it first.” 

A few days later, I walked down the hallway towards English, accompanied by Stacy who had just cussed out an underclassman for "breathing too loud." As we walked, I noticed people gathering around the newspaper stand by the office, pointing to the section of the paper where my article was. I beamed with pride. The paper had only been released that morning, and already sales were booming and gossip was circulating. A job well done on my part. Just then, I saw  Chase Jackson running towards the front exit, noticeably upset. Following him was none other than Rachel Polnaski. Uh oh, I thought. She was crying, mascara staining her cheeks. She called after him, pleading”I didn’t do it,” she cried, shaking” I never would have done a disgusting thing like that.” Chase turned around, and without hesitation, spat on her and left.

“Slut!” Somebody standing nearby shouted. Rachel started crying harder, and stared at her shoes.  I noticed in the corner of my eye a police car pulled up to the front of the school. A mechanical voice announced over the speaker “Mr. Alex Johnson please report to Mrs. Smith’s office.” 

Rachel’s gaze slowly moved up from her feet, her eyes landing on me. She stared at me with a haunting look of defeat and betrayal, like a dying dog who'd been kicked in the face. 

Oh god, I thought What have I done?