The Renegade Reporters

by Elissa Brent Weissman

  But at this moment, Ash was viewing her basement through the eyes of expert videographer Maya Joshi-Zachariah. Videographer Maya was used to working in The News at Nine studio, designed by Van Ness Media and filled with top-of-the-line broadcasting equipment. Ash’s basement was only partially finished, so there were linoleum floors and brick walls and metal ducts running along the ceiling. Half of the basement was dug out, which meant both girls could stand upright without hitting their heads on a wooden beam or plastic pipe. But a set of two steps led to a section of the basement that was even less finished. That part had a concrete floor specked with dirt, and if one of the girls grew an inch—or wore her hair in a particularly high ponytail—she’d have to stand at a slant. Even Brielle, the shortest of the group, would have to avoid standing on tiptoe.

  “It’s not the News at Nine studio,” Ash said apologetically.

  And Maya, proving herself to be the best friend anyone could ask for, said, “Well, this isn’t The News at Nine.”

  Ash felt the relief physically, like she’d just put down a stack of heavy textbooks. Excitement restored, she asked, “Where do you think we should set up?”

  Maya closed one eye, made her fingers into a box, and looked through it at one side of the room, then another. “We don’t want too much stuff in the background,” she said, “or people will be looking at the stuff instead of you.”

  “Good point.”

  “Maybe that wall over there? Let’s do a test video.”

  Ash handed Maya her phone. Then she stood in front of the wall. “Tell me when to start.”

  “Anchor in three . . .” She stopped and shook her head, embarrassed. “I wish Brielle were here to do this part. Maybe we should wait till Friday when there’s no News at Nine meeting, so she can be with us after school.”

  “It’s only a test video,” Ash assured Maya. “You don’t need to be so official.”

  “All right.” Maya still sounded unsure, but she held up Ash’s phone and pressed record. Then she nodded and mouthed, “Go!”

  “Test, test, test,” Ash said in her news anchor voice. “This is the first test video from our new studio in my beautiful basement. Maybe we’ll get some good footage for our blooper reel.”

  Outside, a city bus approached the corner. It let out a puff when it stopped, then made a heaving noise as it leaned toward the curb. With the basement windows right at ground level, the sound was so loud, it shook the room.

  Maya wrinkled her nose and stopped recording. They watched the short take. It had picked up every decibel of the racket from outside. Not even Brielle’s Van Ness Movie Maker skills could dampen that sound.

  “Let’s try someplace farther from the window,” Maya suggested. “Maybe that corner by the steps?”

  Ash went over to the corner, and Maya gave her the signal.

  “Test number two!” Ash said loudly. “We’re trying the corner, where a bus may still make the walls shake, but it might not destroy our ears.”

  They watched this new take. The sound was slightly better, but just as Abba had warned, the lighting was terrible. “My face is all shadowy.” Ash sighed. “It’s like I’m reporting from an open grave.”

  “Well, we said ‘underground,’ ” Maya joked.

  Ash grinned. “Live from the Greenmount Cemetery,” she said, “this is The Underground News.”

  Maya held the phone up again and started recording. Ash grabbed a wrench from an open toolbox and held it up like a microphone.

  “Tonight, we’re going to meet with a very special guest,” she said into the wrench, “Mr. Ebenezer Ebenezerus, who died in 1781. We’ll ask him about changes he’s seen in the cemetery over the past two hundred years.”

  Maya pressed her lips together in an effort not to laugh. She motioned with her hand for Ash to keep going, and to move around as she spoke. So Ash walked slowly across the basement, keeping her wrench-microphone close.

  “There’s a full moon over the cemetery tonight, as you can see, so it’s the perfect time to continue our ongoing series, ‘Werewolves: Are They Real?’ ” Ash had now reached the place where the high ceiling ended and the low ceiling began. She lowered herself, slowly, onto one of the steps separating the linoleum floor from the concrete. “Later tonight, the Renegade Reporters will meet with Skeleton Sally, who’ll show us how the ghosts plan to celebrate Halloween. Stay with us.”

  “Cut!” said Maya.

  Both girls cracked up the second the camera was off.

  “Skeleton Sally!” said Maya.

  “Ebenezer . . . what did I call him?” Ash asked.

  “Ebenezer Ebenezerus!”

  When they’d calmed down, Maya said, “For real, though, Ash, I think this is the spot. Look how good it looks.”

  They played it back. It looked better than Ash could have hoped. Sun from the windows lit her face just right. The brick walls on either side were cast in shadow, but in a way that seemed artsy and hip. Sitting on the steps made Ash look casually cool, though still serious, like someone you’d want to meet for coffee between college classes. The concrete and even the dirt added to the whole effect. It was the exact opposite of the bright, polished, squeaky-clean News at Nine studio. In other words, it was exactly what The Underground News was going for.

  “It’s perfect,” Ash said.

  Maya squealed. “This is fun. Let’s do one real take, just to get something down.”

  Their first episode was just going to be an introduction, something to ease the viewers in. The team had decided as much over the weekend, and they’d all agreed it was a good plan. But now that it was time to record it, Ash’s stomach flip-flopped like she’d just done a loop de loop on a roller coaster. This wasn’t a new sensation—she’d gotten it right before every news report she’d ever delivered—but it had been so long since she’d reported the news, she’d forgotten to expect it, and the surprise made her stomach do a second loop, right after the first. You’ve got this, the anchor told herself, the way she did every time the pre-show nerves made her body feel like an amusement park. But did she? It was one thing to read a teacher-approved script and have it transmitted to her elementary school. It was something else entirely to host her own YouTube show that could be viewed by anyone in the entire world.

  “Remember,” Maya said reassuringly, “we’re not live. That means we can do as many takes as we want.”

  “You’re right,” Ash said slowly. Why hadn’t she thought of that? That was why she and Maya made such a good team; Ash spoke for them both, but Maya was always in the background, helping her know what to say. Ash still felt like she might be on a roller coaster, but her shoulder harness was secure, because she was riding with Maya.

  “You ready?” the videographer asked, her camera in position.

  The lead anchor sat down on the steps. “Let’s do this.”

  THE UNDERGROUND NEWS, EPISODE 1

  REPORTER: Ashley Simon-Hockheimer

  VIDEOGRAPHER: Maya Joshi-Zachariah

  EDITOR: Brielle Diamond

  SLUG: Intro

  VIDEO

  Anchor on Camera

  AUDIO

  ANC: Remember the dancing gym teacher? I never intended for that video to go viral. I also never intended for it to get me kicked off my school’s television news crew. But that’s what happened. My best friend was behind the camera at the time, and she got kicked off too.

  Just because we can’t report the news at school, though, it doesn’t mean we can’t report the news. Together with our friend Brielle, the best video editor you’ll ever meet, we decided to keep doing what we love and bring it straight to you—yes, YOU—whoever and wherever you are. So, subscribe to this channel for important, real, breaking news brought to you by the sharpest sixth-grade journalists in Baltimore City.

  I’m Ashley Simon-Hockheimer, we’re the Renegade Reporters,
and you’re watching The Underground News.

  CHAPTER 5

  OPINION:

  Nostrils Are Ugliest Part of the Face

  The sixth graders were in art class creating self-portraits on tablets using Van Ness Art Studio when Harry E. Levin elbowed Ash in the arm.

  “Hey!” she said. “I was drawing my nose. Now it looks like I have one giant nostril.”

  Harry studied her portrait’s nose, then her real one. “It looks pretty accurate to me.”

  Ash clenched her teeth.

  “Your mouth needs some work, though,” he said. “It’s way too happy in your picture.”

  “You drew your mouth closed,” Ash retorted, “which it never is in real life.”

  “Harry. Ashley,” said their art teacher, Mr. G. “Less talking, more drawing.”

  Harry tapped the screen to select a black crayon and started using his finger to draw his spiky hair. “I was going to tell you something important,” he said, his eyes on his tablet. “But I guess I won’t now, since you want me to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Yeah, right,” Ash said.

  “Uh-huh,” Harry said. “For real. But now you’ll never know.”

  Ash finished erasing her nose and crossed her arms. Becoming lead anchor had really made Harry insufferable. “Please tell me,” she said.

  Harry kept quiet.

  “Okay, fine,” Ash said. “I don’t care. You probably didn’t have anything to say in the first place.”

  “Did too.”

  “Harry,” Mr. G warned.

  Ash tried to focus on her nostrils. How were you supposed to draw nostrils, anyway? There was no way to do it that would make them look attractive, or even natural. She’d never given nostrils much thought before, but now that she did, she decided they were the ugliest part of the face.

  “I was going to tell you that your sister’s in the hallway,” Harry whispered. “She was trying to get your attention. But I won’t bother now because she’s gone.”

  Ash looked at the doorway. No one was there. Leave it to Harry E. Levin to tell her someone was looking for her only after that person had left. She raised her hand anyway.

  “Yes, Ashley?”

  “Can I go to the bathroom?”

  Mr. G sighed. “Take the pass.”

  Ash logged out of her Van Ness Media account so Harry couldn’t mess up her portrait while she was gone. Then she took the bathroom pass and walked as quickly as she could out of the art room. She rounded the corner and saw two girls starting down the stairs at the far end of the hall. Ash recognized one of their backs. “Sadie!” she whisper-called. Not wanting to get caught running, she race-walked to the staircase. “Sadie!” she said again.

  Both girls turned around. “Finally!” Sadie said. “I was trying to get your attention forever.”

  “Sorry,” Ash said. “I was sitting next to Harry and he was being . . . difficult. What’s going on?”

  Sadie’s face lit up, and she skipped back to the top of the steps. “I found news for you to report. Lucy’s bike was stolen from Riverside Park yesterday.”

  “Whoa,” Ash said. “For real?”

  “Believe it,” said the girl hopping up the steps, who Ash realized must be Lucy. She was wearing zebra-print leggings under her khaki jumper and a headband with wire cat ears on top. “Someone took it right from the playground, inside the fence and everything.”

  Ash knew she shouldn’t be happy about a stolen bike. But it was hard to not be excited about this break for The Underground News. Here was a real piece of news—actual, serious news—that the Renegade Reporters could report. Even better, the story had happened to Lucy, who clearly had a big personality. If she was up for an interview, she’d make for a dynamic first guest.

  “Can I ask you some questions after school,” Ash said, “so I can make my report as thorough as possible? And would you be willing to be interviewed on air?”

  “I did so many chores to earn that bike,” Lucy replied. “I saved my allowance for months. I will do everything in my power to get it back.”

  Ash couldn’t suppress her smile. “So that’s a yes, then?”

  “Believe it,” Lucy said for the second time.

  “And you’ll report it on your show, Ash?” Sadie asked. “I already told Lucy all about The Underground News.”

  “For sure,” Ash said. “Thanks for the tip, Sadie. You’ve earned your title.”

  “Ladies,” said a teacher who’d appeared at the top of the staircase. “Where are you supposed to be?”

  “In class,” said Sadie.

  “We’re going there,” said Lucy.

  The teacher waited. The second graders turned and hurried down the steps. Ash mumbled an apology as she walked past the teacher and back to art. But she stopped after rounding the corner. Someone was hunched over the water fountain. Someone with dark, spiky hair.

  “What are you doing here?” Ash asked. “Were you following me?”

  Harry stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not everything’s about you, Ashley. Maybe I was thirsty.”

  Ash crossed her arms. “You just suddenly got thirsty the minute I left to talk to my sister?”

  Harry crossed his arms. “I can get thirsty any time I want.”

  Ash wasn’t buying it. “Were you spying on me? Did you hear my conversation?”

  Harry shrugged. “It’s a big hallway. The sound might have traveled. It’s not like we’re”—he raised one eyebrow—“underground.”

  Before Ash could react, a teacher stepped out of a classroom and cleared his throat loudly. Luckily, it wasn’t the same one who’d caught Ash by the steps, or she’d have really been in trouble. “Get to class, both of you,” this teacher said, “or would you rather go to the principal’s office?”

  Harry hurried off to the art room, and Ash followed behind, glaring at the back of his sneaky, lying head. Who cares if he was spying? she tried to tell herself. In fact, she hoped he was. Because The Underground News was about to blow The News at Nine out of the water, and the sooner Harry realized it, the better.

  CHAPTER 6

  Squirrels Squirreling at Scene of Crime

  “Dogs chasing Frisbees, kids frolicking, squirrels . . . squirreling. That’s what this second grader was expecting when she rode her bike to Riverside Park yesterday afternoon.”

  “Cut,” said Maya. She put down the camera. “Squirrels squirreling?”

  Ash shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. What would you say squirrels do?”

  “Creep people out,” Maya said, giving a passing squirrel the side-eye.

  “Kids frolicking, squirrels creeping people out.” Ash shook her head. “It doesn’t really go.”

  “Neither does the first part,” said Lucy, who was making her way across the monkey bars. “I mean, who says ‘frolicking’?”

  “No one says ‘frolicking,’ ” quipped Sadie, who was hanging upside down. “It’s unnatural.”

  Ash sighed. They’d come to Riverside Park to record footage at the scene of the crime. But it was hard to be anchorwoman when everyone and their mom had an opinion about what she should say. (Literally. All the kids at the park were weighing in, as were their moms.)

  “The sound is terrible here,” Maya said with a frown. “The phone is barely picking you up at all because of the wind and the little kids running around.”

  “Frolicking,” said Lucy, which made Sadie giggle.

  But not Ash. “Do you want me to report on your missing bike or not?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s just record Lucy’s interview,” Maya suggested. “We can do your parts in the studio or on voiceover, and Brielle can edit it together.”

  “Good thinking.” Ash looked up at Lucy, who was now doing the monkey bars two at a time. “Let’s go over t
o the fence where you parked your bike yesterday.”

  “Wait!” Maya shouted. Then she shrunk back, embarrassed, and talked quieter. “If Brielle’s going to be editing anyway, let me get some footage of Lucy up there. For background shots.”

  That was all Lucy needed to hear. The second the camera was on her, she began breaking out all her tricks. She skipped bars, hung upside down, spun by two fingers, and traveled the whole circle in what had to be world-record-worthy time. Sadie cheered from the ground, Olive whooped from the bench, and baby Beckett clapped from his stroller.

  Once Lucy dropped down, Maya filmed her walking to the place where her bike disappeared.

  “Tell me what happened yesterday when you got to the park,” Ash said.

  Lucy launched into her story with even more energy and passion than she’d displayed in the stairwell. She spoke loudly enough for the camera to pick up her voice clearly—and for other families in the park to hear what was going on.

  “You have to be careful with your stuff around here,” one of the moms said. “My diaper bag was stolen from this park about a year ago. It had my phone in it too, but not my wallet or keys, thank goodness. I filed a police report, but they never found it.”

  Ash could hardly believe it—or her luck. “Can I ask you about it on camera?”

  The mom paused. “What’s this for? A school project?”

  “It’s not part of school,” the anchor replied. “It’s for a show we’re making ourselves called The Underground News.”

  The mom looked from Ash and Maya to Olive, who waved from the bench. Then she looked at her own toddler, who was picking up handfuls of mulch and carefully arranging them along the bottom of the slide. “All right,” the mom said, getting excited. “I actually used to play ‘news show’ in my room when I was a kid. I’d report on what I saw out the window, and I’d interview my stuffed animals.”