The Last Reporter by Michael Winerip Page B

“the good news is now they really know how to sell ads the totally ethical way, so pretty soon we should have money to get the
Slash
printed.”
    Jennifer lifted a manila envelope and wiggled it in the air. “We’ve actually created a sales packet,” she said, explaining how the Ameche brothers would be showing it to potential advertisers. The packet included the last few issues of the
Slash,
plus the
New York Times
article about the
Slash
’s story on the Bolands, plus a little about Harris Elementary/Middle School. “We think showing how great the paper is should really help sell ads,” she said.
    The staff members still wanted to know the bad news.
    “Well, most of the money the Ameches raised so far they had to give back,” said Adam. He was dying to change the subject, but they would not let him. This was the problem with trying to manage news people — they wanted every single question answered right down to the bone.
    “In terms of how much,” said Jennifer. “Five hundred dollars.”
    “Yipes,” said Phoebe, “How much do we —”
    “A little over sixty-eight dollars,” said Jennifer. “But I think it’s going to go a lot better now.”
    They were quiet. It had better go a lot better. They needed to get from sixty-eight dollars to one thousand dollars in four weeks if there was going to be a June issue of the
Slash.
    They discussed the progress of several articles. Adam told them about the test-scores story. He said it sounded from his meeting with Mrs. Quigley as though something fishy was up, but he couldn’t tell what yet and he had set up a meeting with one of the deputy super-dooper-pooperintendents of the Tremble schools.
    Sammy summarized what he’d found so far on chocolate milk. “I’m about half done,” he told them. “And without going into it too much, it’s worse than I thought.”
    They’d heard about Adam’s bike being stolen, which started them all talking about stolen bikes. They knew three other kids who’d had theirs stolen, too, so they added a bike-theft article to the story list.
    With the end of the year coming, some of the old teachers were retiring, so Jennifer assigned a story on that.
    Jennifer and Adam had decided not to tell everyone about Stub Keenan giving out free iPod downloads in exchange for votes — if it was true. They didn’t want anything leaking out until they had a plan. They’d gone through Jennifer’s top-secret list and there was no one from the
Slash
getting free downloads, but they didn’t want to take a chance. Stub was a popular kid. There was a good chance some of the
Slash
staff members were friendly with him.
    Jennifer asked in a casual way if anyone had heard anything interesting on the student-council race, and they’d heard the same thing she had — that Stub would win, easy.
    “Anyone know his campaign manager, Billy Cutty?” asked Adam.
    “Good kid,” said a girl. “Funny.”
    Then why’s he working for Stub? Adam thought, but didn’t say anything.
    It was time to go. This was the last week for most of the kids on spring sports teams. As they reached for their backpacks, Ask Phoebe called out, “Attention, everyone. Attention. This will just take a minute. I want to read one letter.” The staff ignored her; most of them were middle-school kids, and even if Phoebe was the world’s greatest third-grade reporter, at the end of the day, she was still a measly third grader.
    “It’s very lovey-dovey!” shouted Ask Phoebe.
    “Nasty?” said a boy.
    “Is it sexy, sexy?” asked a girl.
    Adam was thinking this might be funny. He wanted to know who wrote it.
    “No name,” said Ask Phoebe. “It’s signed ‘Confused Middle Schooler.’”
    “Ooooh,”
a bunch of them hooted.
    “OK, Phoebe,” said Adam. “Don’t say I never did anything for you. Read it quick.”
    “No!” Jennifer blurted out, and they all looked at her. “I mean, we really don’t have time for this. I’ve got tennis.”
    “Jennifer,