Jason was picking his nose.  Again.

Ellie didn't want to be his buddy; she tried to ignore the way he bounced on the bus seat, kicked the wall under the window, and dug his finger into his nostril.  After all, he was only a boy, and she could put up with him for this field trip--their very first field trip ever.

This morning had already been different than most.  Mommy and Daddy had both laughed a lot at breakfast, and Ellie wasn't quite sure why.  It couldn't be her outfit--her favorite yellow jumper with frogs on the pockets and a green t-shirt and hair ribbons--because they both liked it, Daddy for the funny frogs, and Mommy because it was soft and good for cuddling.  But every time she'd told them where her class was going, they'd laughed, and neither one would tell her why.

"Who can tell us what they do in the Sun-Times building?"  Mrs. Lyons knelt on the front seat, facing them.  Ellie's hand shot up.  "Yes, Ellie?"

"They make newspapers!"

"Very good, El--"

"And newspapers tell us what happens in the city," Allison said, interrupting Mrs. Lyons.  "And there's--"

"Ads and sports!" Joey called out.  Ellie glared at him.  It wasn't his turn, either.

"Cartoons!" Rachel added.

"And pictures!"  Jason bounced so hard on the seat that Ellie bounced too.

She sighed and raised her hand again.  "But, Mrs. Lyons, the news is the most important, isn't it?  It tells what's going to happen to people."

Mrs. Lyons flashed Ellie a sweet smile.  The beads on her braids clinked as the bus rattled over a bridge.

"That's almost right, Ellie.  The news tells us what's already happened.  That's why it's important to our community."  They were studying communities in preschool, and Mrs. Lyons said the word slowly, pointing out the window at downtown Chicago.

"Ding dong, you're wrong."  Nasty Jason stuck out his nasty tongue at her.

Ellie frowned, but not at Jason.  Could Mrs. Lyons be wrong?  Uncle Gary and Mommy talked about the Sun-Times every day, and they always discussed what would happen.  Before Ellie had time to work it out, Mrs. Lyons asked another question.

"And who remembers what we call the people who tell us about the news stories?  The ones who write them, so that we know what has happened?"

"Reporters!" chorused the girls on the other side of the bus.

"Journalists," Ellie said, because she liked that word better, but only Jason heard her.  He shrugged and looked out the window.

"Okay, we're here," Mrs. Lyons announced when the bus squeaked to a stop.  "Remember to hold your buddy's hand."

Ellie did not want to hold Jason's hand, but she wanted to do what Mrs. Lyons said, so when they got off the bus, she grabbed his wrist instead.  He pulled it away, as if she were the one who had boogers under her nails.

"We'll get in trouble!" Ellie hissed.  It was bad enough that Mrs. Lyons had told her she was wrong about the newspaper; she didn't want anything else to spoil this day.  Jason stuck out his tongue again.  He was going to ruin everything.

Mrs. Lyons motioned them to come closer.  Ellie opened her mouth to explain, but Mrs. Lyons smiled a smile that meant everything was okay and took each of their hands in her own.

"Here we are, boys and girls."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Ellie looked up at the tall, dark building with yellow letters.  "It says, 'Chicago Sun-Times'!" Allison shouted, just behind them.  Ellie sniffed and pretended not to hear, not even when Mrs. Lyons turned around to smile at Allison.  Ellie could read it, too, but she didn't have to show off and announce it to everyone.

It was a good thing they were with Mrs. Lyons, because Jason tried to keep right on going around in the revolving door, instead of getting out.  They just barely managed to get out in time, stumbling a little into the lobby.

Ellie had expected to see people doing all kinds of interesting things, things the journalists could write about, but instead it looked a lot like the first floor of the building where she went to the dentist.  The floors and walls were shiny black, and the place was almost as crowded as the street outside.  None of the people were doing anything interesting; they were all coming and going like regular people in a regular office.  Maybe the really fun stuff happened upstairs, Ellie thought, as Mrs. Lyons led them to the elevator.

The whole class of ten, plus Mrs. Lyons and Joey's dad, got into the elevator.  Jason got to push the button, and Allison pouted.  To keep from bouncing up and down with her own excitement, Ellie grinned at one of her frogs, the one that smiled up at her as it jumped across her tummy, and held tight to Mrs. Lyons's hand.

When the doors dinged open, they stepped out into a huge room with a ceiling taller than even her daddy could reach and lights that marched away in rows so long Ellie couldn't see their ends.  There were desks and people everywhere; computers clacked, printers whined, and telephones buzzed and trilled.  Ellie was excited, but also a little scared.  She huddled with the rest of her class around their teacher.

"Hi there!  You must be the kids from Learning Time!"  Startled, Ellie looked up at the lady who'd spoken.  She had short brown hair and thick glasses, and she smiled at them with lots of white, white teeth.  "I'm Cathy, and I'm going to show you around today, okay?"  Her voice was a little too sweet to be real, the voice some grown-ups used when they thought kids wouldn't understand.  Ellie liked her anyway; her hair bounced when she talked, her clothes were what Daddy liked to call "funky", and she answered all their questions as she showed them around the big room.  Cathy said that she'd been a reporter for a couple of years, and an intern before that, so she knew the Sun-Times inside and out.  "The paper and the building," she said, and when Ellie giggled, the only one besides Mrs. Lyons who did, Cathy grinned at her and held out her hand, and Ellie took it.

"What's an intern?"  Ellie asked.

"An intern is someone who's learning a job," Cathy said, and then laughed.  "But not getting paid for it."

Intern, Ellie thought: in the job, but waiting for her turn to get paid.  She liked it.

Cathy showed them the computers and told them what the journalists were writing about--the Cubs and the El train, the mayor and the schools.  Most of the people--journalists, Ellie thought--wore serious, scrunchy faces.  A little group of them--a bald man, a younger one with an earring in his lip, and a woman with frizzy black curls--were yelling at each other, but they stopped when Ellie's class came by.  That was too bad, because she wanted to know what they were yelling about.  She also wanted to stop and ask some of them how they knew the stories of what was going to happen, but she thought Mrs. Lyons probably wouldn't like that.  Maybe she could ask Cathy later, when her teacher wasn't so close.

"How about you kids help me make a special newspaper, just for you?"

While the other kids all yelled, "Yeah!", Ellie nodded, trying to hold in the fluttery feeling in her stomach.  Now they would be able to make up stories and see them come true.

Cathy took them to a special room that had a computer screen bigger than a television.  "Now let's write a story about your visit here today," she said, but they didn't really get to write it.  They stood behind Cathy and told her what it should say, and she typed it out, her fingers moving faster than Ellie's eyes could follow.  And when she was finished, the fluttery feeling was gone, and Ellie was more confused than ever.

"Mrs. Lyons's Class Visits the Sun-Times," the headline on the screen said, and Ellie could read every word, but she thought it was kind of dumb--and not just because it was Allison's idea.  It was boring, like the story.  She already knew that they'd ridden in a bus to the building, and taken the elevator, and met Cathy.  The headline should be about something new, something that could happen tomorrow, something like, "Chicago Preschoolers Find Dinosaur Fossils in Sandbox".

Plus, there was only that one story, and it wasn't enough.  No real newspaper had only one story in it, whether or not it was for kids.

"You see, Ellie?  They can't write about a news story until it happens."  Mrs. Lyons put a hand on her shoulder, giving Ellie the little smile she wore when Jason messed up his counting.  She was whispering, but Allison heard and flashed Ellie a triumphant smirk.  "You're all helping Cathy write the story about your visit now--it wasn't here before we came."

Disappointed, Ellie bit her lip and nodded.  Mommy and Daddy would explain when she got home.  Uncle Gary wouldn't always say, "It's going to happen," when he read the paper just to mix her up.  Maybe the journalists did all the next day's stories in secret, and that's why they'd stopped talking when her class went by.

"Now we need a picture."  Cathy opened the door and stuck her head out into the busy hallway.  "Miguel?  C'mere a minute."

Ellie's eyes widened when the man walked in.  She knew him, knew his short dark hair and gold hoop earring, and the cameras he always carried with him.  He came to Mommy's bar sometimes, to talk to Uncle Gary.  He grinned down at them and twisted the lens of his camera, while Cathy said, "This is Miguel Diaz.  He's a reporter who takes pictures."

"Photojournalist."  The word, which she'd heard the man say in the bar, came out before Ellie could stop it.  She clapped both hands over her mouth.  But Miguel smiled.

"Hey, we got a brainiac here.  C'mon up, you want to be in the paper?"  Mrs. Lyons pushed Ellie forward, but soon her classmates were crowding close.  Everyone made funny faces while Miguel's cameras clicked away.  Jason stuck out his tongue, Allison flipped her hair, and Ty stuck his fingers in his ears.

But Ellie didn't make a funny face--at least, not one that she meant to make.  She was busy trying to figure out how the pictures got taken before things happened.  That was something she'd never thought about before.

"Now, you all know that the pictures are the most important part of the newspaper, right?"  Ellie looked up to see if Miguel was teasing; his face was hidden behind the camera.

Mrs. Lyons smiled.  "A photojournalist like Miguel makes the stories in the newspaper come to life."  For just a moment, Ellie felt hope again, hope that things would turn exciting at last.  Maybe the secret really was in the pictures.

But that couldn't be right, because--

"That's right."  Miguel lowered his camera and grinned at them.  His teeth were almost as white as Cathy's.  "If you can't see the story, you don't really know it.  And you kids are quite a story."

Ellie couldn't bear it any more.  Her hand flew up.  "What is it, sweetie?"  Cathy asked.

"My mommy doesn't need pictures to know the stories."

Miguel's grin got to her before their eyes met.  "Maybe not the boring stuff.  But if you want to know about exciting things, like, oh, festivals and bank robberies and--"

"Miguel!" Cathy said, shaking her head and wagging her finger at the preschoolers.

"Jump shots, babe.  The perfect jump shot."  Miguel pretended to shoot a basketball.  "All those stories, the best stories, they need pictures."

Ellie listened to this, the angry feeling inside her getting bigger, like a balloon that Miguel's words were blowing up.  She shoved her fists into the pockets of her jumper.  "No.  The words are the stories."  She stomped her foot, and all the grown-up's eyes got round.  But she had to make them understand.  Miguel had to take it back.  "They have to be."

"Take it easy, kid."  Miguel looked at Mrs. Lyons.  "What's wrong with her?"

If there was one thing Ellie hated, it was grown-ups talking about her as if she were invisible.  "Not everybody can see the pictures," she said, practically choking on the balloon of mad that was bubbling up from her tummy to her mouth.  Frustration, Daddy had taught her to call it.  She swallowed hard, and, knowing that the other kids were looking at her, and that Allison was probably happy that Ellie would get into trouble, she went on anyway, because whatever they wanted to say about when the stories got written, nobody was going to tell her that her mom couldn't understand the newspaper.

"My mommy knows the stories.  Daddy reads them to her, and sometimes I do, and Uncle Gary reads her lots.  She doesn't need pictures!"

"It's okay, Ellie."  Mrs. Lyons put a hand on her hair, stroking down to her neck.  "Ellie's mom--"

"She doesn't know how to read," Jason said.

"She does too!"

"She can't see nothing, 'cause she's blind," said Allison.

"It doesn't matter!"

"Ellie--"  Mrs. Lyons was kneeling next to her now.  "Sweetie, calm down."

But Ellie couldn't calm down, not until someone listened, not until she could make someone understand.  "It doesn't matter, because she's smart, and she can so read, and she's a great mommy and she helps, Uncle Gary says she does, so it doesn't matter one bit--" She whirled on Miguel.  "--and neither do your pictures!"

"Hey, kid, I'm sorry."  Miguel knelt down.  "Look, it's okay, really.  You can just tell your mom about the pic--"  He pulled back and really looked at Ellie.  His eyes got all squinty; he smelled like gum.  "Did you say, 'Uncle Gary'?"

Ellie nodded.  "He doesn't think Mommy needs to see in order to understand the stories.  She's not stupid, just because she's blind."

"Nah, she's not.  You're right."  He cocked his head at her, then looked up at Cathy, who looked confused.  "Your Uncle Gary--what's his last name?"

"Hobson," Ellie said, and some of the mad bubbled out and away.  "You know him.  You come to his bar sometimes.  I saw you there."

Cathy gave a little gasp.

"I have to go to the bathroom!" Maria announced.

"Dios mio."  Miguel's grin spread, and his eyes got very, very round.  "Uncle Gary."

"Me too, Mrs. Lyons," said Allison.

"All right, maybe we'd all better take a bathroom break," Mrs. Lyons said.  "Come, children--I'm sorry, Cathy; we'll be right back."

The others all started to go with Mrs. Lyons, but Ellie saw her chance to figure out the newspaper mystery.  Even though Miguel had made her mad, she thought maybe now, since he knew Uncle Gary, he might be nicer to her.

"Ellie, let's go."  Mrs. Lyons was holding out her hand.

"Oh, please, Mrs. Lyons, can I stay?"

"Look, if you want to take the rest of them, we'll be right here with her," Miguel said.  "Cathy has to print their newspaper, and besides," he added with a wink at Ellie, "I know her uncle."

Ellie nodded.  "He does, Mrs. Lyons.  He comes to see Uncle Gary at McGinty's."

"The Uncle Gary who picks you up at school sometimes?"  Even though Ellie nodded, Mrs. Lyons looked like she was going to say no, but Maria declared, "I hafta go!  Now!"

"I want to stay, too.  Ellie's my buddy."

Ellie shot a frown at Jason, but for some reason that seemed to change Mrs. Lyons's mind.  "Okay.  But Ellie--"

"I won't leave the room and I'll be here when you get back and I'll be on my best behavior and the phone number at school is 555-6732 and no going with strangers."

"That's my girl," Mrs. Lyons said.  "Jason, you do the same."

Miguel spread his hands wide.  "What am I, chopped suey?"

They all trooped out in the direction Cathy showed them, Mrs. Lyons with the girls and Joey's dad with the boys.  Jason picked up the lens cap that Miguel had left on the front table and started rolling it around on the hard, speckly floor.  Miguel watched him for a minute, then shrugged and turned to Ellie.  She was a little distance from Cathy, watching the way she moved the pictures, stories, and headlines around on the screen to make them just right.  It was looking more like a real paper now, but it still wasn't what she had hoped for.

"What's the matter?" Miguel asked.  "Still mad about what I said about the pictures?"

"Yes."  Ellie knew he was sorry, so she added, "But only a little.  Mostly I wish this were more like a real newspaper.  The real one, the one my daddy brings home, is bigger."

"Your dad's not a Trib reader, is he?"

Ellie was proud that she understood.  "Nope.  Sun-Times, all the way."

Miguel held up his hand and they high-fived.  "You're all right, kid."

"A kid is a baby goat," Jason said, looking up from the floor, where he was picking his nose again.  "Baa."

"Hey, kid, save that for the bathroom, okay?  How're you gonna impress the ladies with your finger up your nose?"

Jason peeked around Miguel's legs.  Ellie scowled at him, but didn't stick out her tongue like she wanted to, because she had promised Mrs. Lyons she would behave.  "She's not a lady," Jason told Miguel.  "She's Ellie."

"One of these days you're gonna think differently.  You think I do that kind of stuff around Cat?"

Jason blushed as red as his hair, and Miguel winked at Ellie.  But she stared at him.  "You know Cat?"

"Yup.  We've worked together for years now."

"You work with Uncle Gary's cat?"

"No...not that I know of."  He pointed to the desk, where Cathy was clicking on things with her mouse.  "Cat, Cathy...it's a nickname, honey."

"Oh!  Like when Uncle Gary calls me Jelly Belly.  And Cat is what he calls--"

"Let me guess.  His dog?"

Ellie giggled.  "No, his cat!"

"Meow!" said Jason.

"That figures," Miguel said with a snort.

"Why?"

"Let me tell you something, Ellie--your Uncle Gary is a little loco.  But I--I don't mean it in a bad way, now; don't get upset again."

"I'm not upset.  I don't know what loco means."

He twirled his finger next to his head.

Ellie still didn't get it.  "He's dizzy?"

Behind them, Cathy chuckled.  "Close enough," Miguel said.

Uncle Gary didn't dance, not around Ellie anyway.  "Does he dance with you?"

"Sure, we do the Macarena every Saturday night."

"Miguel, give her a break," Cathy said.

His smile got all lopsided.  "Uncle Gary.  Who'da thought?  You think he's pretty cool, huh?"

"He's my best grown-up friend," Ellie said, because that explained everything.

Everything except the newspaper.

"I get that.  So."  Miguel clapped his hands and rubbed them together, then leaned and whispered, just to Ellie, "You want to make that paper bigger?  Find some more stories for it?"

Ellie caught her breath.  "Can we?"

"As long as you don't tell my boss."

"I don't know your boss."

"Good point."  He pointed at her when he said it.

"Miguel..." Cathy said, in a voice Ellie knew, because it sounded like her mother, just before Daddy swung Ellie up on his shoulders, or Uncle Gary tried to sneak her an extra soda.  "What are you up to?"

"Ah, we'll just take some old pictures and put them in their little paper.  We can make up stories about them."  To Ellie's surprise, he bowed to her.  "Like Miss Ellie here says, the words are the most important."

Will they come true, Ellie wanted to ask, but Cathy spoke first.

"What about copyright?"

"Oh, c'mon, Cat, they're preschoolers.  It's fair use.  Besides, I offended the young lady."  Miguel gestured at Ellie, and she stuck out her bottom lip and tried to look sad.  It was like being in a play.

Cathy rolled her chair away from the computer and lifted her hands like it was a stick-up.  "Okay, but it wasn't me."

"Never is, babe."  Pulling a chair up to the desk, Miguel straddled it and thought for a moment, his hands over the keyboard as if he were about to play the piano.  "What do you kids like?"  He looked at Ellie's jumper.  "Frogs?"

"And dinosaurs."  She took a step closer, peering over his arm at the little computer screen, while Jason stood, a finger in his mouth, watching the big one.  Miguel moved the mouse around the screen and clicked, and a file full of pictures opened.  "That's the zoo!"  Ellie pointed to the gorillas.  "Daddy took me there."

"Yup.  Standard shots.  Hmmm...what about..."  Miguel clicked the mouse again, and the pictures changed.  Then he turned and grinned at her, great big and a little sneaky, just exactly like Uncle Chuck.

"What about ducks?"

"Quack!" said Jason.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Uncle Gary came over for dinner that night.  Ellie had asked if he could.  She hadn't told Mommy much about the field trip when they rode the El home together from Ellie's school; well, not everything, anyway.  She kept her copy of the Sun-Learning-Times in her backpack, and talked only about the computers and the reporters and the giant, loud printing presses that they had seen in the basement.  When Mommy said, "I'm glad you had a good time, sweetie," Ellie laughed, but would not explain why.  She also did not tell about Miguel, or how she had nearly cried in front of everybody, because she didn't want to hurt Mommy's feelings.

So when Daddy came home and Uncle Gary came over, they all ate chicken and green beans and soft rolls together, and while the adults told stories of their work and talked about things in the news, Ellie sipped her milk and rested her sock feet on Reilly's back, waiting.

"You're awfully quiet," Daddy finally said, turning to Ellie.  "Are you going to tell us about the field trip?"

"You went on a field trip?" Uncle Gary asked.  "Where'd you go?"

Ellie looked at Daddy, who raised an eyebrow, and at Mommy, who pushed her lips together, trying not to smile.

"We went to see where they make the newspaper!" Ellie declared.  The green beans fell off Uncle Gary's fork when he stopped it in midair.  Mommy let out a little laugh, and Daddy grinned at Ellie.

"You did, huh?"  Uncle Gary turned to Mommy.  "You never mentioned that little detail."

"I thought Ellie should be the one to tell you," she said.  "More chicken?"

"Uh, sure."  He took a drumstick off the platter that Mommy pushed his way.  "So, what did you see?"

"Wellllll..."  Ellie wanted to save the best part for last.  "We saw the great big machines where they make the newspapers, and the room where the journalists write stories about the news.  The lady who took us around, her name was Cathy, but they called her Cat, just like your Cat, Uncle Gary.  Except she was a lady."

"I sure hope so."

"Sounds like a busy place," Daddy said.

"It was, and we were busy, too.  Mommy, may I be excused, just for a minute?  I want to get my surprise."

"Okay."  When Ellie pushed back her chair and slid out, Mommy said, "Don't give me that look, Gary.  This is the first I've heard of any surprise."

"That's why it's a surprise!" Ellie called over her shoulder.  She ran down the hall to her bedroom and pulled the special paper out of her backpack, then ran all the way back to the dining room.  "Look what we made!"  She waved the copies in the air.  "It's a newspaper, Mommy, and it looks just like the real Sun-Times, but it has a story about us visiting, and some others we made up.  Miguel let me have two copies, because he said one was for my family, and one was just for you, Uncle Gary."

"Miguel?" Mommy and Uncle Gary said together.  "Miguel Diaz?" Uncle Gary added.

"Yes.  He's a photojournalist," Ellie told Daddy as she peeked over his arm at the copy of the paper she had given him.  "He knows about Uncle Gary."

"All about him?" Daddy asked.

Uncle Gary shook his head, but nobody explained that part to Ellie.  That was okay.  She was going to be able to figure it out herself, someday soon.  "He took our picture, see?"  Ellie hopped over next to Uncle Gary and pointed to the class photo on the top half of the folded paper.  "That's Jason.  He picks his nose."

"Ellie, that's inappropriate, especially at the dinner table."

"Sorry, Mommy.  But he does."

"That doesn't matter.  You shouldn't--what is wrong with you ?" Mommy interrupted herself to ask Daddy, who'd just snorted so hard, little drops of water came out of his nose.

"Gary's famous," Daddy said with a wide smile.  He'd turned the paper over.  "Or maybe infamous."

"Wha--"  Uncle Gary flipped his paper over and then dropped it onto the table.  "Ellie!"

Hiding her giggles behind her hands, Ellie backed away.

"What is it?" Mommy asked.  "What's wrong?"

"Miguel found a picture of Uncle Gary and some baby ducks, and we put it in our paper!" Ellie said, happy that the secret was bursting out.  The best part about keeping a secret, after all, was finally getting to tell it.

Mommy thought for a second.  Her eyes crinkled.  "Duckman strikes again?"

"You think this is funny?"

"They're just kids, Gary."

"And I made up the story."  Ellie dared to get close enough to Uncle Gary to point to the words.  "About the Mysterious Duck Man, and how he saved the Duck Family from the Evil Taxis of Doom!  That part was Jason's idea, but the rest was mine.  Do you want me to read it to you?"

But Mommy was laughing so hard she couldn't talk for a minute.  When she finally caught her breath, she said, "Oh, you must read it for us--after dinner.  You need to finish it before it gets cold."

"And then can we call Uncle Chuck, so I can read it to him, too?" Ellie asked, climbing back into her chair.

"Yes," said Mommy and Daddy together.

"No!" said Uncle Gary.

Daddy took both copies of the paper and set them aside.  "We can even fax him a copy, if you like."

"You're enjoying this way too much," Uncle Gary said.  He looked from Daddy to Mommy as he picked up his drumstick.  "Both of you."

"But Uncle Gary, you all need to read my story.  Because it helped me decide something."

"What's that?" he asked, even though his mouth was full of chicken and Mommy always scolded Ellie for talking with her mouth full.

Ellie sat up straight--everyone was looking right at her for the final, best part of her secret.  "I'm going to be a reporter when I grow up, and I'm going to write stories for the Sun-Times!  Miguel said I could, if I worked really hard in school.  And he said I would be a good reporter, because he told me the secret to knowing the news before it happens, just like he and Uncle Gary do!"

"What's that?" Daddy asked, though he had to talk kind of loudly, because Uncle Gary had started to cough.

Ellie beamed.  "Good instincts."  She turned to Uncle Gary, whose face was getting red.  "Miguel said I should ask you where you get yours."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later, Mommy said that Ellie should save her announcements until everyone had finished eating, and that it was a good thing that Daddy knew the Limelick mover--which, to Ellie, looked like a great big hug.  It stopped Uncle Gary from choking, so that was a good thing.

Mommy didn't say it at dinner, because she was laughing so hard that she buried her face in her napkin.  Even Reilly got up to see what was going on.

Ellie remembered it all, every last detail.  It was going to make a great story for her next newspaper.

As soon as Uncle Gary told her where to get those instincts.

~*~*~*~*~*~

FINIS

Long before I wrote stories, I listened for stories. Listening for them is something more acute than listening to them. I suppose it's an early form of participation in what goes on. Listening children know stories are there. When their elders sit and begin, children are just waiting and hoping for one to come out, like a mouse from its hole.

~ Eudora Welty,  One Writer's Beginnings

Email the author:   peregrin_anna@hotmail.com
 

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