The Last Reporter Read Online Free Page B

Radin’s Famous Homemade Super-Chunk Buckets O’ Chocolate Moisty Deluxe chocolate-chip cookie.
    Sustenance from Mrs. Quigley.
    Adam started off by telling everyone about the Ameche brothers. Not all about the Ameche brothers. There was way too much to tell. He certainly didn’t go into the tomatoes or the bird doo or their May Way West studios or their exciting weather forecasting habits. He just emphasized that they were really good at making money and mentioned a few of their businesses.
    He was afraid that if he said too much, he’d stir up Jennifer again.
    After their Sunday visit, it had taken Adam three days to convince his coeditor that the Ameche brothers really were good at making money and that she needed to give them another chance. He kept telling her the story about the eighty-seven dollars and the four power-mower wheels, but he must have been telling it wrong, because she just stared at him.
    “Jennifer, everyone knows you’ve got to spend money to make money,” Adam had said.
    “What are you talking about?” she said.
    “It’s basic marketplace principles,” said Adam. “Grow your business. Invest in your future. The golden rule.”
    “Geez,” said Jennifer. “All that time alone with the Ameche brothers — it really turned you stupid.”
    But she finally calmed down. Maybe Adam’s discussion of Ameche microeconomics had sunk in.
    Or maybe it was because they had no choice. Their next best plan was Phoebe’s idea to sell homemade beaded bracelets and necklaces; so far, she’d made twelve dollars.
    Jennifer had talked to the print shop. The owner said he could print them five hundred copies of the
Slash
— their usual press run — for one thousand dollars. Then, of course, they’d have to hand it out themselves in front of Harris; school officials wouldn’t let them send it home in every kid’s knapsack anymore, since it was no longer the official paper of Harris Elementary/Middle.
    So that was the plan — the Ameche brothers to the rescue. The
Slash
staff was juiced. To them, it seemed like free money from heaven. And the Ameche brothers even promised to create a website that would have all the articles from each issue, along with the staff’s e-mail addresses so readers could get hold of reporters, plus regular updates of the news.
    The Ameches would raise the money by selling ads. And those ads would appear in both the paper and web version of the
Slash.
“Advertisers like that,” said Adam. “It’s called double platforming.”
    “It’s called what?” said Jennifer.
    “Double platforming,” said Adam. “We put their ads in two different places, which gives them more bang for the buck. Plus, the Ameche brothers are a built-in four-legged call.”
    “Four-legged what?” asked Jennifer.
    “You know, two salesman making a house call.”
    “Why are you talking like that?” said Jennifer.
    “Just basic ad lingo,” said Adam. “I picked it up from the Ameche brothers. Don’t worry — you’ll catch on.”
    “I hope not,” said Jennifer. “Ideally they’d sell ten hundred-dollar ads. But if they have trouble with that, they might sell smaller ads for maybe twenty-five dollars. And we’ll pay the Ameches for selling the ads, depending on how many they sell.”
    “They could sell ten ads for one hundred dollars,” said Shadow. “Or they could sell forty ads for twenty-five dollars.”
    “That’s right, Shadow,” said Jennifer. “And it doesn’t have to be just businesses. It could be parents who’d buy ads, like they do for the Harris yearbook —”
    “Or they can sell one ad for one thousand dollars,” said Shadow. “Or they can sell twenty ads for twenty-five dollars, and five ads for one hundred dollars . . .”
    “That’s the idea,” said Jennifer.
    “Or they could sell one ad for two hundred and fifty dollars and one for one hundred dollars and twenty-six for twenty-five dollars,” said Shadow. “Or they could sell one ad for five hundred