Free The Last Reporter by Michael Winerip Page B

here today?” asked Mr. Willy.
    “Like Adam’s my friend,” said Shadow, glancing over and giving Adam a wave.
    “And how does having your friend here make you feel?”
    “Like I’m his friend, too,” said Shadow.
    They were sitting two to a table. Shadow was sharing a table with a boy named Ronald, who was round and had a very thick neck, thick arms, stubby little fingers, squinty eyes, and a sweet, sweet smile. In the center of each table was a huge pile of earphones like the kind they give out on airplanes. They were small, only a couple of inches long, and each was individually wrapped in plastic. On the floor beside each table were a bunch of boxes, neatly stacked. The smallest boxes were orange, the next size up were white, and the largest were plain cardboard cartons.
    Mr. Willy explained the rules to everyone while Miss Patty, the aide, walked around giving each of them a large sheet of paper with numbered squares from one to twelve. Mr. Willy said this was a game, but for some of them it was also one of the kinds of jobs they might get in the summer, or when they got out of school, so it was good practice for that, too.
    Shadow raised his hand. “I already have a job, working for Mr. Johnny Stack at the Rec, doing what needs doing. I make four dollars an hour, cash on the barrel.”
    “We know that,” said Mr. Willy. “That’s wonderful. But not everyone is as far along on their independence goals as you are —”
    “Mr. Johnny Stack says independence is my middle name,” said Shadow. “That’s why July fourth is my favorite holiday. Independence Day.”
    “Right,” said Mr. Willy. “So this will be more of a game for you, Shadow. No more hands —”
    Shadow raised his hand. “Except if it’s an emergency,” he said, and he gave Adam another little wave.
    “Right, right,” said Mr. Willy. He explained that they were supposed to take a plastic earphone packet, place it on the number one square, take another, place it on the number two square, and keep doing that until they’d filled all twelve squares on their sheets. Then they were supposed to reach down and pick up the smallest box, the orange one, and put the twelve earphones into the box and close up the box. They were supposed to repeat that until they had six orange boxes. When they had six orange boxes, they were supposed to put them into a bigger white box. And when they had ten white boxes, they were supposed to stack them in the large plain cardboard carton.
    Mr. Willy held up a stopwatch. “All set? . . . OK. . . . Go!”
    Shadow was fastest. He’d grab a handful of earphones, drop one on each numbered square, scoop them up when he filled twelve squares, stuff them in the orange box, then start on the next orange box.
    On the other hand, Ronald, his table mate, looked like he was on vacation. He would take one of the earphones wrapped in plastic, place it on the number-one square, then take the next earphone and put it on the number-two square. Pause. Then he’d go back to the first square and make sure the earphone packet was straight, then make sure the second was straight. Pick out a third . . .
    Adam sat transfixed. In the time Shadow would finish a carton, Ronald would be lucky to do two orange boxes.
    It was as if Ronald had forgotten the purpose of the game. They were supposed to go as fast as possible, but Ronald was being as neat as possible.
    At one point, Adam looked up for a moment and noticed that Mr. Willy was watching him watch Shadow and Ronald.
    Mr. Willy called time after Shadow finished a carton. “Good job, everyone,” he said. He walked around the room. “Looks like Shadow’s our champion,” said the teacher. “Let’s give him a round of applause.”
    Shadow nodded to acknowledge the applause.
    “Speech, speech,” called out Ronald.
    Shadow just shrugged.
    “How does it feel to win?” said Mr. Willy.
    “I did sixty orange boxes,” said Shadow. “Ten white boxes and one carton. Sixty orange