Dear Diary, I'm Finding Myself

Perrie One, Cassie Zero

“That’s an excellent point, Miss Hughes. Care to elaborate, Miss Wagner?” the professor speaks up, making Cassie look like she just awakened from her evil, scheme-plotting bubble. She straightens up a little, her smile widening.

“Of course, professor. I disagree with the presented point. A direct approach is what is necessary in order to let possible sources know what we’re there for. Or are you suggesting that we should lie and deceive in order to eventually get what we want?” she speaks up, pointing her gaze back to me.

I don’t let myself be intimidated by her subtle attack. I smile back, even if I want to spit into her face. Despite knowing that there’s no way my saliva would travel this far from where I’m sitting. Bring it on, b***h. You won’t get to the bottom with me.

“Absolutely not. Our intentions should be revealed as soon as possible, but jumping straight to the point will get you only the bare minimum. Small talk is key, in my opinion. It gets you places and it earns you trust that you desperately need. More trust equals more information from your source. Or are you trying to suggest that I support manipulation of potential sources?” I challenge her.

The word affects everyone in the lecture hall like a cold shower. It’s something that no journalist should ever use to get information. It’s against ethics and it’s what turns you into one of the bad ones. They’re trying to teach us the right way here.

“No, of course not,” Cassie says, barely able to pull herself together from the surprise I prepared for her. Yeah, not that quiet, shy little Perrie anymore, who never knew when to stand up for herself. Or how. You made me into this, Cassie. It’s all on you.

“Then if I’m allowed, I would like to continue where I started,” I say, turning towards Mrs. Burke, who nods, but not before explaining why manipulating potential sources is so bad. We should never deceive in order to get information. It’s immoral, unfair and it can get us into trouble.

Especially when our investigative work turns to dangerous sources. Criminals, potential mafia, et cetera, et cetera. Yeah, it can happen sometimes, even if it might sound bizarre or impossible. The worst part is you never truly know who’s on the other side. You can think you’re talking to just another source, before you find yourself at gunpoint.

We’re going to have a guest starring at one of our next lectures. Someone who actually survived quite a few encounters like that, because they’re specialized for the criminal area. Homicide, drug empires, serial killers … I shudder, just thinking about it. That kind of work can put you in true danger.

I get pulled out of my thoughts as Mrs. Burke gives me my word back. “Legally, we’re bound by the law to act in best interest of everyone, involved in the investigative process. Now, Miss Hughes, you said you have something else to add?”

I nod, not even glancing at Cassie as I speak up again. “I also have trouble imagining how encouraging people to research your work would be helpful. Nobody cares enough to do that. Plain and simple. When your potential source doesn’t want to cooperate, it will make them roll their eyes if you start talking about your work. I know I would,” I remark.

The professor looks like she’s holding back a smile. In the end, she simply gifts me with a satisfied nod, seeming impressed with my thoughts. Great. I really wanted to tear Cassie apart in front of everyone. Maybe I am out of revenge, I don’t know. But I want her to feel how I felt when I first saw her at NYU. Intimidated. Not ashamed to admit that.

“Anything you want to say to prove your point, Miss Wagner?” the professor then asks, making me take a deep breath. As I turn my head towards Cassie, I realize she’s blushing through all that makeup. She’s furious. And embarrassed.

“No. I have nothing else to say,” she speaks up, trying to regain her composure by straightening her back a little. But as soon as she sticks her chin a little higher, I’m sure everyone can see how bad she feels right now. Because I ripped her to pieces in front of everybody.

I basically discredited her every word. More or less. I don’t even have to try to touch the other points, because I’m sure she knows I’d be able to blast them apart like they’re nothing. “Okay, then. Miss Hughes, since you already spoke up, would you care to continue? I’d love to hear what you came up with,” the professor says, turning back towards me.

I nod shortly, but firmly, not even nervous about speaking in front of all these people anymore. Strangers. Okay, now they’re already acquaintances. My classmates. Anyway, the point is, destroying Cassie like that just made me fire up. I’m ready to take on literally anything.

“Of course. I won’t be long,” I say, turning towards my notebook to refresh the key points I wrote down the previous evening. “In my opinion, gaining more trust and forming a better connection with a potential source can be achieved by following a few key points. We must not complicate things too much. We should approach them in a respectful way and under no circumstances let them believe that we’re the ones getting something out of this connection. I think being sympathetic and understanding is the key. When we get turned down, we make everything about them. We make them believe that we’re there to offer our help. And that is what we do. Only when they feel like they’re getting something from us, can we ask for help in return,” I express my point of view.

Mrs. Barnes is once again nodding, looking quite happy with what I came up with. She shows me her thumb, making me smile. “Well done, Miss Hughes. That’s what we need to do, yes. As journalists, our jobs are getting tougher with every day. Our work is often seen in a negative light, thus making people distrust us. What Miss Hughes pointed out is an excellent way to get us what we need. Through sympathy, a lot can be achieved. But you have to be honest and fair about it. Don’t pretend. People can sense dishonesty. You need to learn to care about every source. Only then you’ll meet success.”

We’re all eating up her words, and when she asks if someone dares to challenge me, no one speaks up. Okay, she said that in a slightly different way. It doesn’t matter. I’m literally flying on the wings of victory for the rest of the day, because I managed to show Cassie that I’m not scared of her. Not anymore.

When I get home and tell Hunter about it, he seems conflicted. At first, I think that he’s happy that I stood up for myself. But the more I talk, the more his smile fades. Before I even get to the part where I got praised for my own work, I ask him: “What’s wrong?”

He bites his lip, shaking his head in response. I cross my arms against my chest and lean back on the chair, raising my eyebrows. “Nothing, why are you looking at me like that?” he says in a little too defensive tone.

I try not to be hurt. But I am. I can’t help it. “Because I’m telling you the story about how I finally found the way to make Cassie see that I’m not that shy, helpless girl anymore and you look like I’m telling you that I put together a supervillain plot.”

He sighs and leans forward, putting his hands together on the table. “I’m not,” he says, looking like he’s having difficulties talking. Finally, he speaks up again. “I’m just not happy that you’re still letting Cassie get into your head,” he mumbles.

I blink in surprise, unable to believe my ears. “Weren’t you listening to what I said at all? I didn’t let her get into my head, I got into hers instead. I beat her,” I repeat myself really slowly, like I’m trying to make sure he’ll understand this time around.

He frowns at my words, shaking his head. “Never mind. You don’t get it anyway,” he murmurs, leaving me stunned. I stare at him, blinking in surprise, hurt, and even anger. I can’t believe he’s saying that, when he knows how badly I took her schemes this year. He was there to witness it for Christ’s sake!

“No, you’re the one who doesn’t get it. She put me through hell. What you saw at Prom was only the big finale. I had to endure her stupid tries to throw me off guard for the whole year. Every contest I entered, she already had an entry ready. She paid Jackson to try to end us, how can’t you see what she was doing to me?!” I burst out, finding myself on the verge of tears as the memories flood in.

He stares at me calmly, not saying anything for a moment. Then, he nods. “Yeah. Exactly. She got into your head. And now you’re letting her do it again,” he tells me, completely frustrating me. I wave my hand at him in a dismissive way, then pick up our plates and carry them to the sink.

I start doing the dishes, making sure that I make as much noise as possible, so he knows I’m angry. Dr. Collins would tell me that this is my way of trying to get attention. It’s not. It’s how I want us to reconcile. But he’s too stubborn to come after me. That’s the problem.

By the time I’m finished, tears are already streaming down my face and I remove myself to the bathroom, before he’s able to follow me there. I let the water run, flushing my face in order not to let him notice that I’ve been crying.

However, as I open the door to return to our living space, I meet his searching gaze directly in front of me. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed against his chest, staring at me in a knowing way.

“Have you been crying?” he wants to know. I shake my head immediately, even if I know it’s dumb. He can clearly see my red eyes. And he heard the water running for God knows how long. Of course, he knows what I’ve been doing.

He doesn’t say anything, he just pulls me into a hug. In his warm embrace, the façade falls apart and tears start falling again. He holds me patiently, while I wet his sweater. I wish I could say I’m crying because he hurt me. But that’s not the case.

I’m crying because he’s right. Cassie is still inside my head. And I have no idea how to make her leave. An eviction notice just isn’t doing it for me. Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m joking about this.