Tabloidology (7 page)
As Trixi walked home, she thought about what had happened in Ms. Baumgartner's office. She wasn't too crazy about the choices Ms. Baumgartner had given her: wasting her lunch hours writing some dumb school newspaper with Martin Wettmore or getting up early Saturday mornings to wash school buses.
Trixi halted on the sidewalk in front of her house and stood tapping the side of her head with a finger. Washing school buses or working on the school newspaper? Which one offered more possibilities? She could paint the school buses different colors or install whoopee cushions on all the seats. What about the newspaper? What sort of fun could she possibly have with a school newspaper? How much fun could she have writing about lunch-hour floor-hockey games or field trips to a wallpaper factory or⦠And then, Trixi's mouth stretched into the biggest smile her face had ever made.
Yes! She would work on the newspaper. Forget about her other pranks. Talking toilets, Harleys in the hallway and purple-haired dogs were small potatoes compared to what she could do with the school newspaper! Trixi's mind was spinning with possibilities. This newspaper was a chance to have way more fun than the rest of her pranks combined. Ms. Baumgartner had no idea what she was getting herself into.
M
s. Baumgartner set out a few rules for running the newspaper. Trixi and Martin were to have a weekly newspaper meeting every Monday at noon in the computer lab. At this meeting, they would plan out the stories to be written for that week's edition of the newspaper.
At their first meeting, Martin arrived five minutes early and pulled a chair up to an empty table at the back of the room. He drummed his fingers on the table, glancing at the clock every few seconds. In his dreams, Trixi wouldn't show up.
The clock read 11:59. No sign of Trixi. Maybe she was too busy switching the signs on the boys' and girls' change-room doors. Or maybe she was in the middle of turning a garter snake loose in the staff room. Or maybe she'd decided to wash school buses instead of work on the paper. Martin remained hopeful.
He pulled some sheets of paper out of his backpack, straightened the paper clip holding them together and laid them down carefully with the bottom of the papers lined up perfectly with the edge of the table.
Martin glanced at the clock. 12:01. Still no Trixi. Maybe she was turning all the class pets loose or dropping water-filled balloons off the roof or taking the air out of all the volleyballs in the gym. Why would a troublemaker like Trixi want to work with him on the school newspaper? What was Ms. Baumgartner thinking?
At 12:02, the door swung open and there stood Trixi, her cheeks bulging like a squirrel who'd just won an acorn lottery. In one hand was a half-eaten submarine sandwich and in the other a can of Zappo cola.
Martin jumped out of his chair and said, “Ms. Hart's number one rule is no food or drink in the computer lab. If she sees you, you'll be in big trouble!” Trixi shrugged, flopped into a chair and slammed her can of cola down on the table.
The two of them stared across the table at each other. Trixi chewed on her gigantic sandwich, while Martin nibbled on his thumbnail. Usually Trixi got in the first word, along with the second word and the next five thousand words. But with her mouth stuffed full of submarine sandwich, Martin went on the attackâthe future of his newspaper was at stake. He reached across the table and carefully laid down the pile of neatly stacked papers in front of Trixi.
“Here is the next edition of the
Examiner
,” he said, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “All the stories are written, all the pictures are in place and, as usual, there are no spelling or grammatical errors.”
Trixi kept chewing as she glanced at the papers in front of her. A sound came from somewhere deep in her throat. Martin couldn't tell exactly what the sound meant. Either she was trying to say something or she was choking on her sandwich.
He reached across the table and tapped the front page with his finger. “The front-page story,
Trees Trimmed at Front of
School
, is about the trimming of the trees at the front of the school.” His voice was louder than it had to be, and the words flew out faster than he'd ever spoken in his life.
“I interviewed the two workers cutting the tree branches and got a detailed, step-by-step description of the science of tree pruning. Everyone should find this article fascinating!”
Trixi gulped and made an awful face as she tried to swallow a wad of sandwich far too big for her throat. Martin just kept talking, flipping the page and tapping his finger on the headline across the top of page two.
“
Obedient Dogs at Upland Green School.
It's about the dog obedience class that's held in our gym on Tuesday nights. I'm particularly proud of the photograph I took of Terry Springate's dog Sparky rolling over on command.”
Trixi kept trying to swallow, but the wad of sandwich was stuck. She grabbed her can of cola and tipped it back to her mouth.
“And I interviewed our new school crossing guard, Mr. Dobson. You wouldn't believe the amazing stuff I found out.”
Trixi swallowed a few more times. The cola was slowly turning the wad of sandwich in her throat into mush.
“And then there's the weekly weather forecast: cloudy with sunny breaks and a chance of showers. Very unusual for this time of year,” he said.
Martin straightened the papers, once more carefully aligning the bottom of the pages with the edge of the table in front of Trixi. He gave the stack of papers three gentle pats with the palm of his hand and said, “It may sound like I'm bragging, but the truth is, this is the best edition yet. Every article is based on solid facts.”
Trixi swallowed, took a few deep breaths and a couple more swigs of cola, but she still couldn't speak.
Martin knew he didn't have much time before Trixi would unleash her own barrage of words, so he stood up and pointed across the table at her. “We're supposed to be working together on the newspaper, so to keep Ms. Baumgartner happy, here's your part. All you have to do is take the paper to the office, get a security code number for the photocopier from Ms. Baumgartner, print one hundred copies and sell them in the front hall tomorrow at recess and lunchtime. That's it. Nothing more. You don't have to do anything else.”
Martin turned, ran across the computer lab and out the door, slamming it for effect. Once he was outside the room, he collapsed against the wall and exhaled like he was blowing up some gigantic imaginary balloon.
He'd done it! He'd shown Trixi who was the boss! He'd shown her that Martin Wettmore was the one in charge. Martin undid the top button of his shirt, hitched up his pants and smiled. Nothing was going to stop the
Upland Green
Examiner
from being Martin Wettmore's newspaper. Not even Trixi Wilder.
By the time Trixi could finally talk, Martin was long gone. She picked up the paper and flipped through the pages. “Who would ever be interested in this garbage?” she shouted to the empty room. “And no one orders me around! What does he think I am? His personal secretary?” Trixi slammed the table with her fist. The can of Zappo cola jumped, wobbled and tipped over. As a dark brown, gooey liquid oozed across the tabletop, the computer-room door swung open. Trixi looked up to see Ms. Hart, the computer teacher. Her eyes went back and forth between Trixi and the puddle of Zappo cola.
“What is the meaning ofâ?”
“Ms. Hart! Did you see Martin Wettmore running out of here? He spilled his soft drink all over the table and ran out without cleaning it up!”
Ms. Hart narrowed her eyes and folded her arms, giving Trixi a look she'd seen from adults way too often. Trixi knew it was time for some serious damage control. The Zappo cola was already starting to turn the tabletop an odd color, so she grabbed the closest thing she could find and started mopping up the pool of sticky liquid.
When all the spilled drink was cleaned up, she tossed the lump of pulpy paper into the garbage. “Martin's school newspaper has never been so useful,” she said.
The next day, an historic event took place at Upland Green School. Trixi Wilder visited the principal's office and was not in trouble. She breezed into the office before school with a few crisp clean pieces of paper under her arm.
“Ms. Baumgartner! I've got the first edition of the all-new school newspaper ready to copy.”
The principal smiled. It was a smile of relief. “Wonderful! Great! I was worried thatâ¦I mean, I knew you and Martin could work well together. I can't wait to read it!”
Trixi wagged her finger and said, “Patience, patience, Ms. Baumgartner. You'll have to buy a copy when the paper goes on sale just like everyone else.”
Trixi grinned. Ms. Baumgartner smiled back, but it was a nervous smile.
“But no one's going to read it,” Trixi said, “unless I can make some copies. And to make copies of it, I'll need my own security code number for the photocopier.”
“Right!” Ms. Baumgartner said. “You're in luck. Mr. Pen happens to be here right now.”
“More trouble with the photocopier?” Trixi said.
“Yes. It's very strange. Very strange, indeed. This morning, for some reason, all of our copies came out of the machine printed in Japanese. Imagine that!” Ms. Baumgartner said, as she led Trixi down the hall to the photocopy room. “I'm sure he's got it fixed by now. He should be able to program in a new security code for you right away.”
Ms. Baumgartner opened the door to the photocopy room. “Good heavens, Mr. Pen! What are you doing?” she said. The floor of the photocopy room was covered in dozens and dozens of bolts, screws, wires, pieces of plastic, cables, rollers, spools, belts and twisted bits of metal. Standing in the middle of it all was Merlin Pen, scratching his head.
“Don't you worry, Ms. Baumgartner!” he said with a smile. “I have the situation completely under control. I'll have your machine back together in a jiffy.”
“Was it really necessary to take the photocopier apart completely?” Ms. Baumgartner said.
“A photocopier that translates everything into Japanese is a serious problem, ma'am. I'm determined to get to the bottom of this.”
Ms. Baumgartner rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers and shook her head slowly. “How long do you expect it to take before the machine will be in working order?”
“I'll have everything back together in a jiffy. Don't you worry. We'll have your photocopier cranking out copies in no time flat! And if everything goes right, they'll be in English.”
Ms. Baumgartner shook her head and said, “It'll take some magic to get that old photocopier working normally.” As she turned to leave, she added, “After you've gotten the machine working, please give Trixi a security code number for the photocopier. And while you're at it, you can erase Martin Wettmore's code. Trixi will be photocopying the school newspaper from now on.”
“That I'll do in two shakes!” Merlin Pen said with a twinkle in his eye.
Ms. Baumgartner left Trixi to watch Merlin Pen work on the photocopier.
“Now, there you go, Gwennie,” he said, giving the side of the photocopier a loving pat with his hand. “Nice and easy, there. Just hold on. This may be a little painful, but when I'm done, you'll feel fit as a fiddle. Just take 'er easy now. Don't move while I'm putting this part in.”
“Are you talking to the photocopier?” Trixi said.
“Why, of course I am,” Merlin Pen said. “Gwennie's a delicate machine, so she needs reassurance while she's being fixed.”
“Do you have names for all of your photocopiers?”
“Of course I do! There's Matilda, Viviane, Avalon, Chelinda and, of course, good old Blancheflour. They deserve names just like people and pets do. Say, while you're standing there, how about passing me that bit of wire over there by your right foot.”
While Merlin Pen talked soothingly to the photocopier, Trixi handed him the pieces one by one. Very gently, he put the pieces back in place until, miraculously, everything seemed to be in order and the photocopier purred peacefully.