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      While I was feeling moderately more confident knowing Sloane was starting to come around to me, approaching the principal wasn't something I wanted to do.

     I spotted Ronnie sitting in a chair near the entrance to Yanick's office and quickly walked over.

     "What's going on?" I asked, trying to keep my voice low in case the door was thin.

     "I have no idea," she responded. She pulled her bland school-appropriate uniform sweater over her brown hands and shrugged. "Maybe something about the Nudegate story?"

     I picked at my fingernails and sat down in the chair next to her. It made me feel a little bit better knowing that Ronnie was there, but that didn't mean the outcome was going to go our way.

     "Girls," I heard and we both looked up, a Pavlovian response to hearing her voice. Mrs. Yanick was in her early sixties and just over five-feet tall, looking like she weighed close to a hundred pounds. Her graying blonde hair up was always in a French twist, showing off a face that was enviably smooth, and her cat-like green eyes.

      Guiding us into her office, she glided behind her desk and gestured to the seats in front of her. Her office was clean and traditional looking — almost all dark wood. The only source of light was through the large window to her right, showing off a view of the football field and track. On the wall, I spotted her degrees — her undergraduate and Master's degrees, then her PhD in English from Berkeley. Her bookshelves were lined with heavy looking books and I couldn't tell if she had actually read them or if she was like me and just kept them in hopes that one day she would.

     "So," Principal Yanick started and folded her reading glasses, placing them gingerly on her desk. "The faculty and I have some concerns about your coverage of the recent events on campus."

     Neither Ronnie or I were feeling audacious enough to play dumb. We just nodded.

     "We believe we're handling it—" Ronnie started and Yanick put up a well-manicured index finger to stop her.

     "Let me finish. We have concerns and would just like to lay some groundwork so we don't run into any problems," she said. "We've managed to keep the local media away from school and we would like to keep it that way."

     Ronnie made a sound of agreement. They both had the same goal but for two different reasons — Yanick didn't want the bad press and Ronnie didn't want the competition.

     "We would also like to make sure students feel comfortable," Yanick continued, turning her direction to me. "Did you tell your EIC about your meeting with the Warriors for Christ group?"

      I nodded, recognizing the abbreviation for Editor-in-Chief. "Mostly. There wasn't really much to tell."

      "I heard differently," she said. "They expressed concern about being misrepresented and did not appreciate you stopping by unexpectedly before their prayer."

     I didn't want to be angry, but I allowed slight irritation to form. "I just went to go talk to them. One of our previous editors didn't have a great relationship with the group and I felt it was time to mend that."

     "By asking them about a controversial topic?" she asked. "I understand what you're trying to do, ladies. I do. I just want this to be covered with a light touch. You are not the New York Times and there is no reason to pretend that you are."

     I inhaled sharply. "We're just covering what's happening on campus. It's important that students know the truth."

     "Tread carefully," Yanick said, her voice annoyingly unchanged.

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