The Last Reporter Read Online Free

“They seem good,” he said. “They must be doing something right. I mean eighty-seven dollars each — that’s big money.”
    Mrs. Ameche smiled. “Oh, Adam,” she said, “you are a traitor to common sense.” She said she’d be willing to go along with it on one condition. Once they finished the media company, Adam had to help with the tomatoes. “If you’re going to be partners with the Ameche brothers, Mr. Slash”— and here Mrs. Ameche made a slashing motion with her finger —“then we need to find out what kind of work ethic you’ve got. Make sure you’re not afraid to get a little bird doo on your hands. Hopefully, you’ll be a positive influence on these heart-crossing, low-life Ameche brothers.”
    “Ma,” said Don.
    “Come on, Ma,” said Alan.
    They waited a few minutes, then Adam peeked out around the curtain. “She’s gone,” he said.
    “You sure?” said Don.
    “How do you know?” said Alan.
    “I can’t see her anywhere,” said Adam. “And I can see the whole yard.”
    “You sure she’s not hiding behind the crates?” said Don.
    “Sure,” said Adam. “She’s not there. I can see.”
    “Doesn’t mean a thing,” said Don.
    “Sometimes she climbs up on the shed roof and listens,” said Alan. “You’d better check.”
    Adam walked outside and looked on the roof. Mrs. Ameche was not there. He came back in and sat down on a crate. “She’s tough,” Adam said.
    “Yeah,” said Don, “she keeps us on our toes.”
    “She gets inside your head,” Alan said. “Ma’s pretty wily.”
    “You want something to drink?” Don asked. The computers were sitting on a plywood board that was held up on one side by a two-drawer filing cabinet. On the other side, Adam now realized as Don opened the door, was a mini-refrigerator.
    “Zap cola?” asked Don.
    “Five times the caffeine of regular cola,” said Alan, popping open a frosty. “We keep it on special order at C-Town.”
    “I’m good,” said Adam. “I got the jawbreaker in case I’m running down. Look, I’ve really got to go. We’d better do the tomatoes. We can talk while we get it done.”
    The three boys began dragging out bags of soil and peat moss and stacking them by the shed door.
    “I’ve got a question,” said Adam. “You said you didn’t have money. That’s why Jennifer got so mad. But your mom just gave you a ton of money.”
    “Ooh,” said Don. “You really don’t get business.”
    “He doesn’t get how it works,” said Alan.
    “Don’t worry,” said Don. “We’ll teach you.”
    “You’ve got to spend money to make money,” said Alan.
    “Golden rule of business,” said Don.
    “Invest in your future,” said Alan.
    “Grow your business,” said Don.
    “Basic microeconomics,” said Alan.
    “That money,” said Don. “It’s spent.”
    “You see that power mower out there?” asked Alan.
    “The one with no wheels?” said Adam.
    Don and Alan each held up their eighty-seven dollars. “Wheels,” they said.
    “We can sell that thing for maybe three hundred dollars once we get wheels,” said Don.
    Adam grinned. He felt a surge of happiness. These Ameche brothers, they really were the ones for this job. It seemed like they could make money on anything. They definitely might be able to save the
Slash.
    “Let’s do the tomatoes,” said Adam. “I’ve got a ton of homework.” His World History teacher, Mr. Brooks, was making them memorize a speech for the World War II unit. It was ridiculous. Adam loved Mr. Brooks, but memorize a speech? Why memorize when in one second, you could Google? Adam got stuck with something from some guy named Winston Churchpail who was like the king of England during World War II. Adam could not imagine naming a kid Winston, especially with a last name like Churchpail. What were his mother and father thinking? Mr. Brooks said they had to learn at least two whole paragraphs, and Adam knew how he was going to pick them: the two shortest.
    The Ameches