Free The Last Reporter by Michael Winerip Page A

grunted something.
    “What’d he say?” asked Adam.
    “He said ‘Shut up yourself, Shadow Fiddle-Faddle.’”
    Shadow turned and said, “You shut up yourself first, Derek.”
    “Gentlemen,” said Mr. Willy, “come on. What’s our guest going to think?” Mr. Willy welcomed Adam and said they’d been expecting him and were excited about his visit. “We don’t get many visitors,” he said. He explained that they had a few more minutes of reading, and then they were moving to their work stations. “You’re free to walk around the room, Adam, take notes on anything. Mrs. Stanky explained the project to me, and in all the years she’s been doing it — you’re the first to pick someone from our class.”
    “He picked me,” said Shadow, and shooting a glance at Derek, he added, “He definitely didn’t pick anyone else, especially no one who’s name starts with
D
for Derek. I’m picked because Adam is coeditor at the
Slash.
With Jennifer, the other coeditor. I’m the
Slash
’s official fact-checker and proofreader. So far, since I started, I found thirteen mistakes that almost got into the paper. Jennifer says, ‘Not too shabby.’”
    Derek made a long bunch of grunts that went up and down in several places — Adam was pretty sure he recognized a few words, including
Shadow
and
idiot
— but before he could get a full translation, everyone was shooed back to their seats.
    Adam pulled out a reporter’s notebook and went over to Shadow’s group. They were reading
Matilda
by Roald Dahl, a book Adam loved. It was Shadow’s turn — he must have been waiting to go until Adam arrived. Shadow gave Adam a little wave, then started reading.
    Adam was surprised. This was Special Education, but Shadow was reading a real middle-school book. It was the part in
Matilda
about Miss Trunchbull, the evil principal — a favorite part for Adam, since he knew a lot about evil principals. And though there were some tricky words —
headmistress, exceedingly, apprehension
— Shadow read them all. Adam wrote in his notebook,
Shadow reads well!
He also wrote down a few of those big words as best he could spell them, because he wanted to put them in his profile. Mrs. Stanky said the details make a subject come alive.
    Soon, though, Adam was yawning. What was it? He yawned again. Adam could tell that Mr. Willy was trying to cover a yawn, too. Was it Shadow? Actually, Shadow’s voice? Listening to it for so long made Adam sleepy. Everything Shadow read sounded the same. His voice didn’t go up and down, in and out, like most people’s. When Miss Trunchbull boomed and barked, Shadow read it exactly the same as when Matilda whispered and murmured.
    “OK, Shadow,” said Mr. Willy. “Good job. There were a lot of big words in there.”
    “Not big for me,” said Shadow. “I can read a word with twenty-six letters.” He glanced over at Adam and gave him another wave.
    Mr. Willy said he had one more thing to talk about before they moved to their work stations. He pointed to a drawing in the book. Adam looked over his shoulder. It was a cartoonish sketch of Miss Trunchbull, hands on her hips, looking really angry.
    “What’s Miss Trunchbull feeling in this picture?” asked Mr. Willy.
    Shadow stared at the picture and at Mr. Willy but didn’t say anything.
    “Remember how we talked about reading people’s feelings from the expressions on their faces? How does Miss Trunchbull feel in this picture? See her eyes? See her eyebrows slanted down. She’s . . .”
    Shadow studied it again. “The principal runs the school,” he said.
    “That’s right, but is that a feeling, Shadow?” asked Mr. Willy. He told Shadow to open his binder to the page with the list of feelings and find one for Miss Trunchbull in the picture. Shadow looked down the list, looked back at the picture again, and said, “Sad?”
    Adam was surprised; this was baby stuff. This should have been so easy for Shadow.
    “How do you feel about Adam being