Sep 27, 2016 5 min read

The story so far: Robyn and her roving band of reporters are covering the neighborhood election when something happened during the Great Debate.

The crowd at the debate is in an uproar. The streaker skates off. He’s wearing red underwear and a mask. I write this down in my notebook.

“See!” Mr. Marx says. “If we have a skate park in this neighborhood, we’ll get hoodlums like that.”

“What’s a hoodlum?” J.P. asks.

“I’m not sure,” I say. “I don’t think it’s good, though.”

Mrs. Palooso stands up. “The skate park is not a bad thing,” she says. “These kids need a place to play!”

I slip out of the crowd and motion for my reporters to follow.

“Where are we going?” Logan asks.

“We have to find the streaker,” I say. “This is a great story for the neighborhood.”

“But what about the debate?” Corinna asks.

She has a good point. We can’t all leave. Usually, I would send J.P. and Logan to cover this story. It might not be such a good idea today. With the whole Ws-and-Es thing going on, I’d better split them up.

“Here’s the plan,” I say. “Logan and Corinna, you stay here to cover the debate. J.P. and I will go look for the streaker.”

They all nod in agreement.

“Don’t forget The Robyn Report motto,” I say.

Corinna sighs. “We never forget it,” she says. “You won’t let us.”

“On 3 now,” I say. “1-2-3 …”

“Day or night, we’ll get it right!” we shout.

Corinna and Logan squeeze back into the crowd. J.P. and I take off in the opposite direction.

“Follow me,” J.P. says. “I think I know where he went.”

We head around the back of the library.

“How do you know he went back here?” I ask J.P.

“It’s one of the only places in the neighborhood that’s good for skateboarding,” he says. “Everyone knows that.”

I guess I’m not everyone.

Behind the library, there’s a group of skateboarders.

“What’s up, J.P.?” one boy asks.

“Hey Mike!” J.P. says.

They do some weird handshake. I think I recognize Mike from the house on the corner. He’s kind of new to the neighborhood.

“When are you going to come boardin’?” Mike asks.

“Soon, dude,” J.P. says. “Not today, though. I’m on a story right now.”

Mike looks at me. “Oh, yeah. That reportin’ stuff, right?”

I don’t say anything. I figure it’s best to let J.P. do the talking.

“Listen,” J.P. says. “I need a favor, dude.”

Mike stomps on his board, and it flips up into his hands.

“I’m listening.”

“We were in front of the library just now, and someone came through on his skateboard,” J.P. says.

Mike shrugs. “So what’s the big deal?”

“The skater was wearing only his underwear,” J.P. says.

Mike grins. “Oh yeah?” he asks. “Too bad I wasn’t there to see Marx. I bet he flipped.”

J.P. nods. “He flipped, all right. It was sweet.”

I watch J.P. work his magic. He’s doing just what I taught him. First you earn someone’s trust. Then you ask your questions.

“So what’s the favor?” Mike asks.

J.P. leans in closer.

“The thing is, dude,” he whispers. “We really need to figure out who the streaker is. This would make a great story.”

Mike frowns. “I’m not a snitch,” he says.

“Oh, no. It’s not like that,” he says. “We don’t want to get him into trouble. We just want to talk to him.”

Mike looks at me again. I think he’s trying to decide whether to trust me.

“I’m not a snitch,” he says again.

I don’t think we’re getting anywhere with Mike. We’d better hurry if we want to find the streaker.

“Let’s go,” I say to J.P.

“Not yet,” he says.

“Are you kidding? We can’t wait around for him to decide to help us.”

Mike grins. I don’t smile back.

“J.P. It’s time to go now!” I say loudly.

“Trust me,” J.P. hisses. “Now go wait over there.”

I try to object.

“Now!” J.P. says.

I quickly walk over to the steps. I’m not used to someone telling me what to do. I’m usually the one who gives the orders.

J.P. and Mike keep talking.

We don’t have time to waste. J.P. better know what he’s doing. I open my backpack to make sure I still have my notebook. It’s there, along with my favorite reporting pen. I close my backpack and look back at J.P. and Mike.

They’re gone.

I throw my backpack over my shoulder and walk around the parking lot. All the skaters are gone. Before I can think anymore, I hear a loud rumble from behind. I turn around. A huge group of skaters speed through the parking lot heading straight at me.

Mike leads the pack. It looks like they’re aiming at me!