As Martin watched Trixi sit in another yellow chair right next to his, he wondered, Why is she here? Is she some sort of witness? Is she going to advise Ms. Baumgartner on the proper punishment to give based upon her vast personal experience?
Instead of sitting behind her desk as usual, Ms. Baumgartner stood in front and leaned against the edge.
“You might be wondering why I’ve called you both into my office at the same time,” she said.
“I think that’s a pretty safe thing to say, Ms. Baumgartner,” Trixi said. Martin didn’t say anything. He just stared at the floor.
“Well, let me tell you. I’ll start with you, Martin,” Ms. Baumgartner said. “I certainly have to admire the dedication, hard work and tremendous effort you put into the school newspaper each and every week. However…” Ms. Baumgartner paused and folded her arms.
Martin lifted his head when he heard Ms. Baumgartner say However. He didn’t like the way she said the word.
“However, by my calculations, since taking over the Upland Green Examiner you have printed approximately two thousand copies of the newspaper and sold…twenty. That means one thousand nine hundred and eighty unsold newspapers went into the recycling bin. Through sales of the newspaper, you have earned five dollars, while the cost of printing the newspaper has been approximately eight hundred dollars.”
Martin jumped to his feet. “I thought you liked the paper! I thought you thought I was doing a good job! I thought you thought I thought—”
“Sit down, Martin,” Ms. Baumgartner said. She walked around her desk and sat down. “Here’s the situation, Martin. After the flood in the library, the school needs every penny it can get its hands on to buy replacement books. We have to find ways of saving money.”
Martin didn’t like the sound of this one little bit. This was definitely not shaping up as a “good news” speech.
“There are many people in this school who feel we should shut the school newspaper down,” Ms. Baumgartner continued. “I don’t want to do that, Martin. I know how much the newspaper means to you. So instead of shutting the newspaper down, I’m giving you another chance. You may continue to write, copy and sell the school newspaper…but under one condition.”
Martin gulped and sat up straight in his chair, his hands folded across his lap.
“From now on,” Ms. Baumgartner said, “you must sell enough copies of the paper to pay for the costs of photocopying.”
“Pay for the costs of photocopying my newspaper?” Martin said.
“Yes. In other words, the newspaper must pay for itself,” Ms. Baumgartner said. “If the cost of printing the paper each week is, say, twenty dollars, then you must sell twenty-dollars worth of papers. But if the newspaper can’t pay for itself, we will just have to shut it down. I’m afraid we have no choice in the matter. Do you understand, Martin?”
“You’re saying that the Upland Green Examiner has to pay for itself?” Martin said.
“Yes, Martin. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Doesn’t anyone in this school see how important it is to be informed?” Martin said. “Doesn’t anyone see how important it is to know what’s going on around the school? The news of the school may not be entertaining, but it’s important information! Like my Grandpa Wettmore said—”
“Yes, Martin, we know what your Grandpa Wettmore said. The plain truth is the school can no longer afford to pay for the printing of your paper. You’ll just have to sell more copies.”
“I will not change the way I write my newspaper just to make it more en…en…entertaining!” he said. “I won’t change the news just to sell more papers. The school newspaper is more important than money!” Martin’s face had turned a deep red and his hands gripped the sides of the chair tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.
“I’m sorry, Martin,” Ms. Baumgartner said. “We simply haven’t got the money to print your paper. Either it pays for itself or we’ll have to shut it down. It’s as simple as that.”
Martin slumped in his chair like a rag doll, his eyes staring blankly at the floor.
“Now for you, Trixi,” Ms. Baumgartner said, turning in her chair. “You might be wondering what you have to do with all of this.”
“Let me take a wild guess,” Trixi said, scanning the ceiling. “Could it have something to do with a meeting you had with my parents yesterday?”
“It’s not just about that, Trixi,” Ms. Baumgartner said. “We are all concerned with your behavior in and out of the classroom. It’s not only disruptive to the rest of the school, but it’s also affecting your schoolwork.”
“Oh, brother,” Trixi said, sliding down in her chair. “Here it comes.”
“However,” the principal continued, “we all recognize that you have some very special talents. Although your ‘activities’ cause disruptions in our school, they do show a great deal of creativity and careful planning. The problem, Trixi, is that your talents are being wasted. They’re being used for the wrong purposes.”
“Uh, Ms. Baumgartner? Does Martin have to hear all this?” Trixi said.
“Actually, he does. Here’s the reason why I have you both here,” Ms. Baumgartner said. “We have you, Martin—an excellent writer with a newspaper that isn’t selling. Then we have you, Trixi—someone who doesn’t like to write, but is full of incredibly creative ideas.”
Martin and Trixi glanced at one another. Neither of them liked where Ms. Baumgartner’s lecture was heading.
“I’m suggesting that the two of you work together on the school newspaper. Martin’s attention to the facts and his outstanding spelling and grammar will be combined with Trixi’s creativity and imagination. Together, the two of you will produce a school newspaper that students will be eager to read and buy.”
“You’re not serious, are you?” Trixi said, rising out of her seat. “This is just some sort of sick joke, right?”
“Sit down, Trixi. This is no joke. I am completely serious.”
“But I hate writing! You know I’m no good at it. The paper will be full of bad spelling and wrong words in the wrong places. Think how bad it’ll make the school look!”
“That’s why you and Martin are the perfect team,” Ms. Baumgartner said. “You’ve got the ideas, and he can help you with the writing.”
“She’ll ruin my newspaper!” Martin said, jabbing a finger in Trixi’s direction. “She’ll destroy it! She does that to everything!”
“The two of you must learn to work together,” Ms.
Baumgartner said. “That’s all there is to it.”
“Work together!” Martin howled. “I can’t work with… with…her! I hate her! And she hates me!”
“Now, Martin, hate is a very strong word,” Ms. Baumgartner said.
“Not in this case,” Trixi said. “In fact, I’d say it’s probably not strong enough!”
“But I didn’t think you even knew each other. You’re in different classes, and you don’t have the same friends. How can you dislike someone you barely know? I just assumed—”
“Well, you assumed wrong!” Trixi jumped out of her seat again.
Ms. Baumgartner cleared her throat and pointed at the chair. Trixi sat down.
“The two of you will just have to work things out,” Ms. Baumgartner said. “Remember our school motto: Cooperation, Kindness and Caring.”
“I know our school motto,” Trixi said, “and if you must know, only the teachers believe in it. None of the kids do.”
Ms. Baumgartner’s eyes widened as she tilted her head back. “Do you believe in our school motto, Martin?”
“Yes, except when it comes to her,” Martin said, throwing a quick glance at Trixi. “We’ve hated each other since my first day at this school.”
“Yeah,” Trixi said. “We’ve never liked each other. Ever.”
“She’s right, Ms. Baumgartner,” Martin said, looking the principal in the eye. “The first day I was here, she poured chocolate milk down the back of my shirt.”
> “He’s right,” Trixi said. “My friends and I thought it was a good way to welcome him to the school.”
“That’s right!” Martin said, nodding rapidly. “And she and her friends threw snowballs at me on my way home and hit me in the eye!”
“Martin’s right. We figured he deserved it because he’s the geekiest kid in the entire school.”
“Precisely!” Martin said, nodding his head even faster. “And Trixi’s got to be the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met!”
“Absolutely!” Trixi replied. “And let’s not forget to mention Martin’s bad breath. It’s so bad, it could knock a buzzard off a manure spreader!”
“She’s right! And she’s got the personality of a bag of rusty nails!”
“I couldn’t agree with you more!” Trixi grinned.
“So you can see, Ms. Baumgartner, it would be impossible for the two of us to work together on the newspaper,” Martin said.
“Martin’s right. We’d never be able to agree on anything! And besides,” Trixi said, “you can’t force us to work together.”
“You’re absolutely right, Trixi,” the principal said. “I can’t force you to work on the paper, so I’ll give you two choices.”
“Two choices? Okay. What are they?”
“Choice number one: you can work together and make the school newspaper a success,” Ms. Baumgartner said.
“Yeah, yeah, sure thing,” Trixi said. “What’s choice number two?”
“Choice number two: we shut the newspaper down, and you, Trixi, can spend the next ten Saturdays washing school buses. I’m sorry it’s come to this, Trixi, but things have reached a point where your antics just can’t go on any longer. You’ve got to stay out of trouble and apply yourself to your schoolwork. That’s the only way your skills will improve. I’m giving you an opportunity to do all that with the school newspaper.
So, what’ll it be?”
Trixi sighed. “Is there a choice number three?”
As Martin left the principal’s office, he felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach by a horse, whacked in the shins by a kangaroo and punched in the nose by a gorilla. The Upland Green Examiner wasn’t really the school’s newspaper. It was his newspaper. Every dotted i and crossed t was his doing. No one else in the school was good enough to work on his paper, especially not Trixi Wilder!
Martin’s only hope was that Trixi would rather wash school buses than work on the newspaper. But knowing Trixi, that wasn’t very likely. As Martin headed to class, he was madly trying to figure out a way to outsmart Trixi and prevent her from completely ruining his newspaper.
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.
SIX
Ms. 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 attack—the 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. H
e 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.
Tabloidology Page 4