Flipping to the political section, I checked to see if there was any news about Jon's campaign. On the front page of that section, I saw this . .
Involuntarily, the orange juice sprayed out of my mouth in a wide arc. I immediately, after wiping my mouth off, of course, grabbed the phone and called Jon.
"What the hell have you been up to?!" I yelled into the receiver once he answered.
"Hunh? Professor? What time is it? I'm in the Central Zone, you know."
"Have you seen the morning papers?!" I demanded.
"You mean this morning? Hang on . . let me just . . the computer's warming up."
I waited, my impatience growing. How could this have happened? Damn that tramp Emma.
"Holy crap!" Jon yelled, loud enough to wake my whole school. "B-but this . . I never . . I'm married! I would never . . this is just some kind of, I don't know, photographic fakery or something. They must have Photoshopped it together! I couldn't do this!"
"Well it's in all the papers now," I told him. "Even if it is faked, the public is going to make assumptions."
"What are we going to do, Professor??" Jon asked, the desperation unmistakable in his voice.