The Campaign

By Elizabeth Karre

Destiny Davis never imagined being an investigative reporter, but her sixth sense for drama and backstabbing caught Mr. Holt's attention, a wealthy alum from her high school. Now she's an intern at Chatter, his new blog syndicate, and she's knee-deep in sleazy politics. Can she rise above and seize her opportunity?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lerner Publishing
• Release date: Aug 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781467733304

Book preview

Cosby

Dear Ms. Davis,

What a perfect name you have for the news you are about to get—today your destiny probably is changing. I say probably because it will depend on you, as I believe most things do in life. That’s the first thing to know about me.

The second is that I’m offering you a well-paid summer internship with my media group, Chatter. Specifically, you’d be working on our political blog, Polichat, with my stepson Chaz.

You came to my attention, Destiny Davis, when I read your articles in the Clinton High newspaper about the missing school supplies. I heard about you again when the Washington City Paper picked up your story and blew open the whole mess around corruption and supplies across the school district.

The little story about toilet paper and markers that went big. But more than that, it showed you, as a reporter, have cunning, determination, and you’re good at finding things out—especially when you smell a rat.

I could use those talents at Polichat right now, Destiny, so I’m hoping you’ll accept my offer. Bosley will discuss the details with you.

In admiration,

Harmon Holt 

ONE

I looked up from the letter and stared at the boring-looking man in front of me.

I’m sure, Ms. Davis, that you realize what an honor it is to be chosen for one of the Holt internships, he said.

I just stared at him. I was so confused. How did anyone else know that I wrote that article? The Clinton High newspaper hadn’t used my name.

And Harmon Holt? Like, the Harmon Holt? Like, Holt Entertainment. Holt Airlines. Holt Enterprises. The Holt name was everywhere. But Holt, like the other donors to Clinton High, had always seemed like a made-up person. Rich people donated things, like the new seats in the auditorium. But you never met them. Or got personal letters from them.

But, I said, rubbing my forehead, Harmon Holt reads the Clinton High School newspaper?

I had to figure out how Harmon Holt even knew my name. I felt like I was five steps behind in this conversation.

"Mr. Holt is an alumnus of Clinton High, Ms. Williams, my guidance counselor, said quickly. You know that, Destiny. We talk about it at the donor appreciation assembly every year."

Guess I should be paying more attention in assemblies instead of sleeping or talking to my girls. And Ms. Williams didn’t exactly answer my question. But I had more questions.

Okay, it says internship in this letter. But I didn’t apply for an internship, so I think there’s a mistake, I said, trying to be polite. In my head I was saying BIG MISTAKE because anyone who knows me knows I am not the kind of kid who gets picked for this kind of stuff. Even if I had applied for it. Which I didn’t and wouldn’t.

Mr. Holt has his methods for selecting internship recipients at Clinton High, Bosley smiled thinly. He takes staff recommendations into consideration, but in the end, he looks at the needs of his business interests and what he knows about various Clinton students. Actually, he pays close attention to everything he’s connected to. Not much gets by him.

I tried not to roll my eyes. What was he talking about? Was he getting smart? I could hardly tell. I looked at Ms. Williams. She didn’t recommend me, did she?

Ms. Williams shrugged and gave me the eye at the same time. Behave yourself.

And you work for him or something? I asked, still trying to catch up.

Mr. Bosley is Mr. Holt’s … Ms. Williams trailed off.

Right-hand man, the Bosley guy laughed, but not like it was funny.

And this … blog thing—where is it? I kind of already had a summer job and—

Bosley cut me off.

I know it’s a lot to take in, he said, trying to seem nice. (But I could see he was thinking I