“Yes,” said Mal.
A beat passed, and Stella huffed. “So, what do you want, Mal?”
This was easy. “I wanted to see if you’d be interested in an alternative approach toCollagethis year,” they started. “Like Emerson said in the meeting on the first day—about taking itrogue.”
Even saying the word out loud felt like a rebellion, despite Mal having said it several times already this week as they posed it to other staffers. It sat awkwardly on their tongue.
They tried not to let this show. But Mal had never been terribly good at keeping their feelings off their face. And clearly, Stella could tell.
“Wow, Mal,” she said. “That look is really selling it.” She paused, perching a hand on her hip. “And that depends. Who is going to edit, and how are you planning on telling me it’s me?”
Mal had prepared for this too. They shifted mentally down their notes.
“Sorry, but the editorial staff is already filled. However, as a valued contributor toCollage, I wanted to make sure to invite you to join the team.”
It sounded wooden and rehearsed when they said it.
“Please, Mal, you meanas the person who moved copies.” Stella rolled her eyes. “You know Jade’s bad fanfic isn’t doing it. And let me guess—the editor in chief position went toyou?”
Well.
“Yes,” Mal admitted. “With Emerson assisting as managing editor. But your work is always so clean, Stella, it won’t even matter.”
“Not to you, but you’re not the one who gets the red ink, Mal.That’s a hard pass from me,” Stella said. “Good luck with all that.”
Mal froze. The conversation ideas they’d come up with evaporated from their mind under the burning heat of Stella’s stare, any proper retorts lost to the How They Could Get of last night. So they just said, “Okay,” and walked away.
Mal’s cheeks burned as they went, a familiar feeling creeping over them. This was how they had felt every day toward the end of things with Stella. When Mal went along with what she needed, everything was fine, but as soon asMalhad thoughts or feelings or opinions, it was Too Much To Ask. That phrase had become eerily similar in Mal’s head to How They Could Get: another indicator that the way they related to people was Wrong. Their pace quickened.
They had only made it two classroom doors down when Stella’s voice and footfalls caught up with them.
“Wait,” she said, stopping Mal short. They turned to face Stella, who went on, one hand still perched impatiently on her hip: “I know you need me, Mal.”
“Yeah.” There wasn’t any point lying. Their face would just give the truth away.
“And if you want to play editors with Emerson, then whatever.” She waved her hand dismissively. “But the unfortunate truth is that, if I want to get into a writing program, I need a writing-related activity on my application. And it looks like your little project is the only game in town. So fine. I’m in.”
Mal blinked, their cheeks still burning. They hadn’t planned for this. “Oh. Okay, good.”
“But,” Stella went on firmly. “Only if I get a feature spot inevery issue, arealbiography with my piece—not just a byline,I’m talking three sentences minimum and a photograph—and input on the cover. Respectfully, the knockoff literary journal look Ms. Merritt came up with was a nineties throwback, and not in the cool way.”
Theyhelped Ms. Merritt come up with covers—or at least pick them from the prefab designs the print company offered. Mal frowned.
“I can’t promise you all that, Stella,” Mal said. They should have checked with Emerson about bargaining tools—an idea that only occurred to them now. And now that they thought about it, they shouldalsohave planned for Stella having a list of demands. None of this was in their notes.
“Sure you can, Mx. Editor in Chief,” Stella taunted. “If you want the power, you’ve got it. Are you too afraid to use it?”
Well, no—Mal wasn’tafraid. They just weren’t used to having any power to use in the first place. And historically this had been where Mal saidOkay, Stellaand relented, because it was easier than saying anything else.
But it would be a jerk move to grant all of this without Emerson’s approval. Thinking back to their weekend meeting made Mal feel a little bit warm, especially when they thought about Emerson’s smile. They didn’t want to be the one who turned it into a frown.
But Emerson had put Stella on Mal’s list for a reason: because they were In Charge and they knew the magazine better than anyone else. Which meant they also knew Stella’s attitude better than anyone else.
Standing in its full blast again was not much fun.
Just then, Mal’s phone buzzed in their pocket. They couldthink of only one person brazen enough to bother them at school—and that thought filled them with just enough edge that they said what they needed to.
“Okay,” Mal spat. “You’re in for a feature, and you can have a real bio—but at the back, with everyone else’s. And I can’t give you the cover—that’s Emerson’s thing.” She wasreallyexcited about it. “But if you’re in, you’re in. No drama. No hostile takeover.”
