Cub Reporters

by Belinda Murrell

  On the walk home I decided that something needed to be done about Summer and her wicked ways. Luckily, I bumped into the perfect person. Charlie overtook me as she rode her bike along the beachfront. Her two border collies, Zorro and Bandit, were running beside her. The rain had slowed to a misty drizzle.

  ‘Hey, Pippa. I was just coming to see you,’ said Charlie. She jumped off her bike and wheeled it along beside me. Zorro and Bandit wagged their tails so hard that their whole bodies wiggled from side to side.

  ‘Hi, Charlie. Hi, Zorro and Bandit,’ I gave both dogs a good rub behind the ears. They looked up at me adoringly. They were the most beautiful dogs, with their shaggy black-and-white coats, black eye masks and sweet natures. They were clever too. Charlie had taught them to do tricks. She said they could even count up to five. If only Summer could be so perfect and obedient.

  ‘I had to escape our madhouse,’ explained Charlie. ‘Can you imagine five kids and all our animals cooped up inside? Zorro and Bandit were desperate for a good run.’

  ‘It’s no better at our place,’ I said. ‘All of us plus Summer the Wicked in our teensy caravan. It’s been crazy.’

  ‘What has the terror been up to now?’ asked Charlie with a chuckle.

  ‘You don’t want to know!’ I assured her.

  But Charlie did, so I told her the long, sorry tale of Cici’s demolished sandal and Bella’s extinct dinosaurs. Charlie laughed and laughed.

  It felt good to share the story with someone who understood.

  ‘Summer might have done everyone a favour by eating Bella’s dinosaurs,’ joked Charlie.

  ‘True! It’ll be a lot quieter without so much roaring and stomping,’ I agreed.

  ‘Well, I’m glad Cici’s not mad at you but it’s pretty tough to have all your savings wiped out.’

  I shrugged. ‘I can always earn more by helping Mum at the Beach Shack. But let’s hope Summer doesn’t destroy anything else.’

  Charlie tickled Bandit under the chin.

  ‘She will,’ Charlie assured me. ‘You wouldn’t believe how naughty Zorro and Bandit were when they were little.’

  ‘Really?’ I asked. The two dogs looked up at me as if to say, ‘Us? Never!’

  ‘Bandit used to steal everything – shoes, phone chargers, socks, dirty undies – even books,’ said Charlie. ‘That’s how she got her name. Zorro was pretty wild too. Once I left Archie’s saddle on the ground and they ripped it to shreds. It was months before they calmed down.’

  ‘Terrific!’ I said, imagining months to come of Summer destroying shoes, toys and toilet rolls. It would cost a fortune.

  We’d arrived at the gate of Mimi and Papa’s little white cottage. The house was half hidden by the lush garden of palm trees, frangipanis and hibiscus. A wisteria vine grew all over the front veranda, with clusters of purple flowers dangling like chandeliers. Our caravan was parked around the back.

  ‘Would you like to come in?’ I asked Charlie. Up until now I’d avoided asking the girls back here. We usually hung out at the cafe. In the beginning I had been embarrassed that we lived in a tiny, crowded caravan in the back garden of my grandparents’ house. Now I knew the girls well enough to realise that it didn’t matter anymore.

  ‘Sure,’ said Charlie. ‘I’ll put the dogs on the veranda, away from Summer, since she’s not old enough to make friends yet.’

  We tied Bandit and Zorro to a post under cover and went around the back. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still misty and grey.

  First we went to the caravan so I could show Charlie where we were living. Mum was back from the shops and was unpacking the groceries, tucking things away in the tiny cupboards above the kitchen sink.

  ‘Hello, Charlie,’ said Mum. ‘How lovely to see you.’

  We chatted to Mum for a few moments. Charlie gazed around with interest, taking note of the bunks where Harry and I slept, and the double bed that Mum and Bella shared.

  ‘Charlie’s come to help me train Summer,’ I explained. I took a deep breath. I hoped Mum wouldn’t be cross about Summer’s shoe-eating spree. ‘Speaking of Summer, she did get into a little trouble today.’

  Mum raised her eyebrow and closed the cupboard door. ‘What wickedness has that puppy been up to now?’

  I explained all about the jewelled sandal and going around to Cici’s house to confess and giving up my pocket money to pay for new ones.

  ‘That was exactly the right way to fix it, Pippa,’ said Mum, looking at me with approval. ‘I’m really proud of you.’

  Mum might not be so proud of me in a minute, I thought to myself. I hesitated again.

  ‘That’s not all,’ I said. Charlie gave me an encouraging smile. ‘Summer also ate one of your shoes the other day and I hid them. I didn’t want you to be cross with her.’

  I dug Mum’s favourite pair of shoes out of the back of the clothes cupboard. One shoe was perfect and the other utterly ruined.

  Mum shook her head ruefully as she examined the tiny tooth marks. ‘I was wondering where these were. It’s just as well that Charlie’s come over to help with Summer’s schooling. The sooner we can break her shoe-chewing habit the better!’

  Charlie and I laughed. I was so relieved that Mum wasn’t cross or upset.

  ‘Why don’t we get started,’ suggested Charlie. ‘Looks like we have a lot of work to do!’

  Charlie and I went inside Mimi and Papa’s cottage. Harry and Bella were still trying to watch the movie but Summer was making it almost impossible, tumbling and whirling like a demented ballerina.

  ‘Can you take her away, pleeeaase?’ begged Bella. ‘We can’t concentrate on the movie.’

  I scooped Summer up in my arms and we took her out to the garden. I grabbed a pocketful of doggy kibble on the way so we could reward her. Summer jumped down onto the paved patio. She raced around sniffing and wagging her tail then ran straight towards me.

  Summer bowed forward, stretching her front legs and sticking her backside up in the air.

  ‘She’s bowing to me,’ I said to Charlie, as I curtseyed back.

  ‘That’s puppy language for “let’s play”,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Summer? Do you want to play football?’ I called, picking up a ball that was lying on the lawn. Summer looked up at me with her head cocked to one side and made a whimpering, talking sound.

  ‘That’s puppy language for “what’s up?”’ said Charlie.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I said. Summer bounded forward with her ears pricked as if to say, ‘At last! Time to have some fun.’

  We started playing. It was the most hilarious football game because our teammate was a chubby puppy who didn’t know any of the rules. I kicked the ball and Summer chased after it, her tail wagging madly. She bit the ball, which was bigger than she was. She growled and shook it from side to side.

  Charlie grabbed the ball from Summer and kicked it back to me. We sent it scooting back and forth between us as Summer dashed this way and that, yipping with delight.

  When Summer had burned up some energy, we practised her puppy training. She would come, sit, stay, and drop down, then eagerly gobble up her kibble as a reward. Finally, Charlie showed me how to teach her to walk on a lead. Summer trotted along beside Charlie like an angel. We made a big fuss of her.

  Summer rolled on her back with all four paws in the air and whined.

  ‘That’s puppy for “please rub my tummy”,’ said Charlie, bending down to do just that. I joined in.

  ‘You really can speak puppy language!’ I said. ‘You can help me draw a puppy dictionary so I can understand what Summer’s trying to tell me.’

  Charlie laughed. ‘You’d be surprised how fast Summer learns to understand English. Zorro and Bandit know so much. Mum says that border collies can learn over two hundred words.’

  In the kitchen we sat at the table and chatted. I pulled my notebook out of my backpack and began to draw my puppy dictionary.

  Charlie and I discussed different puppy poses and what
they meant while I tried to capture them in doodle form.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ I said. ‘You’re like Doctor Dolittle – you can talk with the animals.’

  Charlie beamed with pleasure. She picked Summer up and cuddled her.

  ‘When I grow up, I’d love to be a vet,’ confided Charlie. ‘I like helping sick and injured animals.’

  ‘You’d make a good vet,’ I agreed.

  ‘But Mum says you need to be really good at maths and science to be a vet,’ said Charlie. ‘I like science but I’m totally hopeless at maths.’

  I’d marked some of Charlie’s maths papers and it definitely wasn’t her best subject.

  ‘You’re not hopeless,’ I said. ‘You just need to work at it. Maths is pretty easy once you get the hang of it.’

  ‘Pfft,’ Charlie huffed.

  ‘It’s just practice,’ I said. ‘It’s like me learning to surf. You’ve been doing it for so long that it comes naturally, but I’m hopeless. But the only way to get better is to keep working at it.’

  Charlie chewed her lip. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

  ‘Of course I’m right.’ I whacked Charlie gently on the shoulder. ‘I can help you with your maths if you like?’

  Charlie leaned forward, her face alive with enthusiasm. ‘That would be great. I look at the numbers and they make no sense to me at all!’

  ‘I’d love to help,’ I replied. ‘We’ll make a maths whizz out of you in no time.’

  Charlie put Summer back down on the floor.

  ‘What about you?’ Charlie asked. ‘Is there something you’d like to do when you grow up?’

  ‘Sometimes I think I’d like to be an engineer,’ I said. ‘I love maths and figuring out how stuff works. I think it would amazing to design things and then build them.’

  ‘That sounds really cool,’ said Charlie. ‘Maybe in the future you’ll invent fantastic devices to help the world. Like personal jetpacks, or robots to clean up pollution, or self-sufficient buildings …’

  I laughed. ‘I think a robot who could do my homework would be perfect!’

  By lunchtime on Monday, the sky had finally cleared. The ground dried out like magic in the hot tropical sun. The four of us ate our lunches in our usual spot, under the shade of the large, spreading fig tree. The air was sticky and humid after the rain and we all felt sluggish and slow.

  After a good night’s sleep, yesterday’s disaster didn’t feel so grim anymore. Cici even made a joke about Summer being more passionate about shoes than her.

  I checked my watch. ‘It’s time for our newspaper meeting in the library.’

  I stood up. Meg, Cici and Charlie glanced at each other. Meg wrinkled her nose. I could tell that they weren’t very keen.

  ‘It’s too hot,’ complained Meg grumpily.

  ‘There’s not much point going,’ said Cici. ‘We didn’t get many photos, so there’s not enough to work on. We might as well just stay here and relax.’

  For a moment I felt tempted to sit back and stretch out in the shade. But then I thought of how much work we still had to do and how many things had gone wrong already.

  ‘We should go to the meeting,’ I said firmly. ‘The others will be wondering where we are and there might be something we can do to help. Besides, the weather’s cleared so if we’re organised we can take the photos after school.’

  ‘Charlie and I have music lessons straight after school,’ said Cici.

  ‘Yes, but you finish by four o’clock. We could do it after that,’ I reminded them. ‘The light will be better later.’

  The girls stayed sitting cross-legged for a moment.

  ‘Okay,’ said Charlie, slowly getting to her feet. ‘I guess you’re right.’

  As we stood up, Olivia arrived with Sienna, Willow and Tash.

  ‘Aren’t you coming to the newspaper meeting?’ asked Meg. ‘It’s due to start any minute.’

  Olivia tossed her ponytail and glanced away. ‘No, we’ve decided not to go.’

  I remembered that the girls must be hugely disappointed that Ruby Starr hadn’t come along to do the interview on Friday.

  ‘You should come,’ I said sympathetically.

  Willow shook her head. ‘Our story didn’t work so we’re dropping out of the club.’

  ‘But you could do another story,’ I said. ‘There are still pages to fill.’

  Oliva glared at me furiously. ‘Why don’t you do the extra pages?’ she asked. ‘It’s all because your stupid cafe was too crowded that Ruby decided not to come.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

  ‘Ruby’s agent told Dad that she walked right inside the Beach Shack,’ said Olivia. ‘Then she left because it was packed with people expecting to see her.’

  I looked at Olivia in horror. ‘But … you can’t blame me! It wasn’t my fault that half of Kira Cove School turned up to see her. It wasn’t me who told them.’

  ‘You couldn’t bear us having a better idea than you,’ snapped Olivia. ‘You just had to spoil it.’

  ‘I … I didn’t do anything,’ I stuttered.

  Willow looked embarrassed by Olivia’s outburst. ‘We know it’s not your fault,’ she said, trying to restore the peace. ‘We just don’t feel like being in the newspaper club now.’

  My friends and I walked to the library in silence. I was feeling upset by Olivia’s accusation, even though Willow had apologised for her. And I was hugely disappointed that our plans to have fun working on the paper had backfired. Everything seemed to be going wrong.

  Meg slipped her arm through mine. She always seemed to know when someone was feeling miserable. ‘Don’t worry about Olivia. She didn’t really mean it.’

  ‘I don’t know why she still hates me so much,’ I moaned. ‘I can’t do anything right around Olivia.’

  ‘She doesn’t hate you,’ said Charlie, giving me a hug. ‘She just wanted to be the star of the club by scooping the front-page story. Now she’s mad at everyone – but mostly herself, I bet.’

  ‘Charlie’s right,’ said Cici. ‘Don’t let Olivia bother you.’

  My friends’ concern did make me feel better. I gave them a small smile. ‘Thanks.’

  Inside the library, Jack and Seb were with a group of year six students working on a storyboard for the newspaper. A few of the other kids were also noticeably absent.

  Jack and Seb looked very glum.

  ‘Glad you four haven’t dropped out as well,’ said Jack. ‘Looks like we’ve lost half our cub reporters.’

  Mrs Neill looked up from her desk. ‘I hope we’ll have enough stories for our first issue.’

  Seb shook his head. ‘Not at this rate. Right now we have a super-skinny newspaper.’

  ‘There are a few sport stories for the back pages but our front-page story fell through, and we don’t have quite as much variety as we’d hoped,’ said Lucy, one of the other year six editors.

  Mrs Neill frowned. ‘I promised Mrs Black we’d have the first issue printed and ready to hand out on Thursday.’

  We crowded around and looked at the storyboard. There wasn’t much besides a few stories about surfing, sailing and sport. But even that was slim, as the Saturday touch football games had been cancelled due to the rain.

  ‘How did you guys go with your photo shoot on the weekend?’ asked Seb. ‘Do you have the story ready?’

  We all shook our heads. ‘The rain was a problem for us too. We only got a few photos,’ explained Cici. ‘Nowhere near enough for our story.’

  All the year six students looked disappointed.

  ‘But we’re going to finish it this afternoon,’ I assured them. ‘We’ll have something fantastic by Thursday.’

  ‘That’s good news,’ said Seb. ‘But we still need some more articles.’

  Meg had the memory stick with the photos we’d taken on the weekend, plus a bundle of our scribbled notes. The four of us sat around a computer and uploaded all our photos.

  Once we’d deleted all my headless, blurry shots, we ha
d three or four good ones. Meg dancing in the rain. Alex kicking the ball. Rory being chased up the beach by Charlie. The four of them soaked to the skin and laughing.

  ‘It’s a start,’ I said optimistically.

  ‘A teensy-weensy start,’ agreed Cici. ‘But nowhere near enough for two pages, let alone anything extra.’

  Charlie thought for a moment, looking at the photos. She called over to Alex and Rory, who were working at the table next to us.

  ‘Boys, what’s your favourite food?’ she asked, her green eyes alight with mischief.

  ‘Pizza,’ said Rory.

  ‘Mum’s roast lamb with crispy potatoes,’ answered Alex.

  ‘And ice-cream flavour?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Vanilla,’ said Alex.

  ‘Nah – strawberry’s the best,’ replied Rory.

  Charlie scribbled down the answers.

  ‘So what do you want to do when you grow up?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Be a video game designer,’ said Rory. ‘Or a computer programmer.’

  ‘Ummm – maybe a professional football player or a chef,’ said Alex. ‘Why?’

  Charlie turned to us triumphantly.

  ‘Mrs Neill said she wanted us not to do an ordinary fashion shoot but to make the story more meaningful. So why don’t we combine the photo shoot of kids wearing their favourite clothes, doing something they love, with a series of interviews about what they are passionate about? Like food, ice-cream, hobbies and the future?’

  I turned to Charlie and smacked her on the arm. ‘What an absolutely brilliant idea. Let’s do it!’

  Charlie threw her plait over her shoulder, grabbed a piece of paper and started writing. Then she snatched another blank sheet and wrote out the same thing all over again.

  This is what Charlie wrote:

  ‘What are you doing, Charlie?’ asked Cici.

  ‘She’s writing a questionnaire for kids to fill in for our story,’ I said.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Charlie. ‘Now if we all fill in a questionnaire, then each ask two kids to do one too – we’ll have twelve interviews in no time at all. We’d just need to type them up.’

  ‘Genius,’ said Meg. ‘That would give us heaps.’