ISSUE:
FORMAT:
EMERSON:is it too cruel to ask people to title in their pitch? That’s always the hardest part for me!
MAL:I mean, it’s never set in stone, right? We could add “working” to make that clear?
EMERSON:PERF, SO SMART SO HOT, ON IT
WORKING TITLE:
EMERSON:OKAY controversial suggestion: we make this less formal???
MAL:I mean a pitch has a formal format, right?
EMERSON:I KNOW BUT what I am saying is, we’re doing it differently now, and so maybe to make it a little more accessible to people who get anxious about “““FORMAL””” things (it’s me, hi, I’m the person who gets anxious about formal things, its me) we can be a little more laid back about it?
MAL:I hadn’t thought about accessibility. That’s a good point.
EMERSON:I’m full of ‘em baybeeee. This is why you keep me around, isn’t it?
MAL:That and your masterful command of creative punctuation.
EMERSON:Oh they’re flirting now aren’t they???
MAL:Here, I’ll put something like—
PITCH:Please note that pitches no longer have to be submitted in traditional format and may be more informal, so long as you communicate the important elements of your piece.
CHAPTERSEVENA MEETING FOR A MEETING
The weekend passed in a Saturday shift at Dollar City and texts to Emerson and a Sunday sideline seat at Maddie’s soccer practice and texts to Emerson and three hours balled up in bed with the Sunday Scaries, trying and failing to do math homework, and texts to Emerson.
Mal had come up with a plan: If the pair of them front-loaded as much prep work as they couldnow, they would have an easier time actually running the zinelater. There were many docs to create and forms to merge, and if it all meant missing a homework assignment for History in favor of texting Emerson about them, well, Mal probably would have missed it anyway. A few weeks into the semester always saw them letting a few things slide, and History had never been an important part of The Plan.
Still, they knew there had to be an easier way to do it all, and so on Monday, on the way to the cafeteria, Mal tugged at Maddie’s sweatshirt sleeve and said, “Go ahead, save my seat. I’ll be right there.”
Maddie quirked an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just need to find Emerson real quick, before the bell.” Mal shrugged. “Zine things.”
“But you’ll miss the best square pizza slices,” Maddie protested.
This almost convinced Mal; the school’s square pizzas were either their absolute favorite, when they got one of the good pieces with lots of fresh, melty cheese, or the Absolute Worst, when they got stuck with one of the crusty ones left over after all the good ones were taken. But their phone had been buzzing in their pocket all morning, and so they knew they’d better handle this now.
“It’ll be okay,” they said resolutely. “Nothing a little—or a lot—of hot sauce can’t fix.”
“Mal.” Maddie shook her head, laughing. “Sometimes you are truly vile. It’s a good thing I love you anyway.” And she walked away, headed toward the cafeteria.
Mal never felt particularly comfortable in the bustle of the hall, but they had a mission this time: find Emerson. And they did, spotting her coming out of the girl’s bathroom, just a convenient few steps away.
Mal stopped short in front of her and frowned. “I haven’t read your texts, I’m sorry.”
“Oh, hey, Mal,” Emerson said, taking two blinks to catch up. “Well, I had wondered why you didn’t laugh at my hilarious jokes, but now everything makes sense.”
“I don’t really text at school,” Mal admitted.
“Oh, okay,” said Emerson.
