Chapter 15: Today's update.
"Move," Sage said, her voice carrying a practiced authority as she directed the hapless guy holding the microphone. He was daring to obstruct the camera's pristine view, threatening the flawless presentation of their carefully constructed image. Sage offered a strained smile once he shuffled aside, then turned back to the lens, her fingers delicately adjusting the folds of her yellow skirt. Every detail mattered.
"Thank you, okay," Sage chirped, her eyes locking onto the red recording light. "You can start recording now," she announced, blissfully unaware that her performance was already being broadcast to a captive audience of disgruntled students scattered throughout the school.
Sage's smile widened, a picture of practiced sincerity. "Good morning, Sara's Students." In the cramped classroom, Hannah's head slammed onto the wooden table with a dull thud. The distorted images flickering on the communal television screen were like a physical assault. Watching Sage and Sofia beam with such blatant falsehood felt akin to being force-fed poison.
"Love is certainly in the air with Valentine's Day right around the corner," Sage's voice echoed through the hall cafeteria, where clusters of students had gathered, drawn by the spectacle of the morning news delivered by the school's reigning queens.
Sage angled her head, ensuring the camera captured her most flattering profile. A gentle smile played on her lips as she glanced at Sofia, her partner in this carefully orchestrated charade, before turning her gaze back to the waiting lens. "Today, I'm thrilled to be joined by the incredibly talented Sofia Meghan."
"The award-winning – and I must emphasize, two-time – National Scholastic Press Association award winner," Sage declared, her voice dripping with admiration. Sofia offered a demure smile, a practiced tilt of her head, before finally turning to face the camera with a bold, self-assured grin.
For Hannah, each saccharine word, each carefully posed expression on the television screen, was a fresh wave of nausea. It was a violation, a blatant disregard for the truth that simmered beneath the polished surface of Sara's High.
"And, of course," Sage continued, her tone warm and inviting, "the esteemed Editor of The Throne." She turned to Sofia, her smile radiating practiced camaraderie. "Thank you so much for joining us today, Sofia."
Sofia's smile was equally practiced, a mirror image of Sage's. "The pleasure is all mine, Sage," she purred, her fingers smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles from her silver skirt, ensuring every frame captured her flawless image.
They both offered a synchronized, classic laugh. "I am so happy we finally get to delve into the profile you're running in today's edition of The Throne," Sage announced, delicately picking up a glossy magazine featuring a prominently displayed photo of NK.
"Last year's public assault sent a shock wave through the campus," Sage's voice continued, each word a carefully placed brick in the wall of their fabricated narrative. Hannah's knuckles were white as she gripped the edge of her desk, her gaze fixed on the screen.
A student near the television began distributing copies of The Throne. Hannah snatched one, her fingers trembling slightly as she flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the carefully chosen words.
Reading Sofia's sanitized prose while simultaneously watching her perform on screen felt surreal, a grotesque pantomime. "And as a journalist," Sofia was saying, her voice taking on a thoughtful, earnest tone, "it felt like such a ripe space for exploration." A barely perceptible flicker crossed her eyes before her expression smoothed out again. Someone behind the scenes, one of the so-called "live editors," subtly adjusted her microphone volume downwards.
"When I initially approached NK about this piece," Sofia continued, her gaze meeting Sage's in a carefully choreographed moment of understanding, "I wasn't entirely sure how he would feel about revisiting such a sensitive topic." Sage offered a supportive nod. "But he was so incredibly game, so willing to get his own side of the story out there."
Sage's admiration seemed genuine, or at least convincingly portrayed. "I am constantly blown away by his strength," she declared, her voice filled with a manufactured awe.
The words on the page blurred before Hannah's eyes. The carefully constructed narrative, the blatant omissions, the outright lies – it was too much. With a guttural sound of disgust, she shoved the magazine onto her desk and bolted from the classroom, the saccharine voices of Sage and Sofia echoing in her ears.
"I know," Sofia was saying on the retreating screen, her voice dripping with false empathy, "he was so vulnerable, so incredibly honest."
Sage offered a knowing nod, her gaze fixed on the camera, her smile unwavering. "Well, I simply cannot wait until everyone reads this truly thought-provoking project."
Hannah practically sprinted down the hallway, her anger a tangible force propelling her forward. "Hey, Hey!" A voice cut through her fury, and she spun around, her eyes narrowed, searching for the audacity of the person who dared to call her name amidst this suffocating wave of manufactured lies.