Girl Reporter Gets the Skinny! (Linda Ellerbee's Get Real Series #7)

Overview

Trumbull Cheerleader Loses Her Cheer!

Casey Smith is tumbling—actually, stumbling—into another story. Her best pal, Ringo, is about to make his competition debut with Trumbull's cheerleading squad, but someone's trying to sabotage one of the cheerleaders! Could the saboteur be from a rival team? Or is this a case of jealousy from within Trumbull's ranks?

Casey vows to expose the truth. But can she get her ...

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Overview

Trumbull Cheerleader Loses Her Cheer!

Casey Smith is tumbling—actually, stumbling—into another story. Her best pal, Ringo, is about to make his competition debut with Trumbull's cheerleading squad, but someone's trying to sabotage one of the cheerleaders! Could the saboteur be from a rival team? Or is this a case of jealousy from within Trumbull's ranks?

Casey vows to expose the truth. But can she get her story without the squad's pep-rallying perkiness rubbing off on her? Get real!

School newspaper reporter Casey Smith tries to uncover who's behind the counterfeit Alienhead toys being auctioned on the Real News website, and also discovers there are good and bad aspects of Internet filtering.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780064409513
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 1/31/2001
  • Series: Linda Ellerbee's Get Real Series , #7
  • Edition description: 1 ED
  • Pages: 192
  • Age range: 8 - 12 Years
  • Product dimensions: 5.12 (w) x 7.62 (h) x 0.38 (d)

Meet the Author

Linda Ellerbee is herself a girl reporter extraordinaire. She is the producer and host of Nick News, the Emmy Award-winning children's TV series on Nickelodeon. About Casey, Linda says, "Casey has a nose for news. She also has eyes, fingers, and a big mouth. Guess which one gets her in the most trouble?"

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

My name is Casey Smith, and I deserved a medal for service way above and beyond. Classes had been over for a full hour already. But had I evacuated the premises? Was I pounding the keys at the Real News office, tying up the loose ends of a crackling story? No. I was spending my postschool time doing what?

Coaching a cheerleader.

Yes, you read that right. And yes, this is that Casey Smith, ace reporter. Hey, would I lie?

I guess I should explain how I landed in the bizarro world of after-school activities. Especially since I slipped into Ringo's alternate universe voluntarily.

My pal Ringo qualifies as a one-of-a-kind on many levels. He has an awesomely fractured worldview that hovers just slightly to the left of normal. Just enough distance from run-of-the-mill to provide flashes of brilliance. He's also the only guy cheerleader I know. The only guy cheerleader on the Trumbull Middle School squad.

Actually, he was an alternate, but since he had recently gotten a chance to cheer in a few games, I thought of him as a confirmed Cheerio.

I admit, I tried to discourage him from pursuing his peppy pastime. Okay. I downright hounded him. But did he listen to me? No. See what I mean? He marches to a syncopated beat all his own. Take world, mix it up with hip-hop, add a dose of roots rock, then set the dial to random. That's Ringo.

The rah-rahs were all revved because they were getting ready for some cheerleading competition. I can just imagine the categories: pep, perk, putrid.

Ringo wanted to get extra practice in while they decided what their routine would be. So here I was: Coach Casey.

How could I turndown his request? It appeared taped to my locker in cartoon form:

Okay. Maybe calling it “coaching” was stretching it. Basically, my job would be to turn the boom box on and off. Ringo's friend Melody would be doing more of the coaching than me.

Because of the unseasonably warm weather, the teams were all meeting outside. I guessed global warming wasn't all bad.

The candy-cane uniforms made the cheerleaders easy to spot. The practice must have just finished. Some of the girls were milling around talking, and others were still doing stunts.

Ringo and Melody were also pretty noticeable off on the sidelines. Melody stood in the bleachers, waving her arms around. I suppose that could be interpreted as coaching, if you use the term really really loosely.

Melody's arm movements made her drapey sleeves flap. Her midnight-blue dress looked kind of medieval. I couldn't figure out how she could turn her head with the wide copper collar around her neck. The effect was kind of Xena meets Shakespeare.

Like Ringo, Melody is her own one-of-a-kind. That's probably what made them gravitate toward each other and why I like her, too. Cookie-cutter kids give me the squeemies.

Maybe there are other sixth graders like Melody back in England, where she's from. But she's a standout here in sleepy little Abbington in the Berkshire mountains of Western Massachusetts.

Next to Ringo and Melody, I must be practically invisible. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Brown freckles. T-shirt (no logo!). Jeans. My Converse high-tops brighten up my monotone existence. Today's pair was a vivid purple. When you're an eleven-year-old in Abbington, you make your statements where you can.

I watched Ringo execute a series of cartwheels as I jogged over. I slid onto the bleacher seat beside Melody's hiking-booted feet. Maybe all her flailing was a reaction to sitting through the entire practice.

“Hi, Casey!” Ringo had finished defying gravity and stood in front of me, grinning. “Thanks for helping.”

“No sweat,” I replied.

He lifted his arm and sniffed his pit. “Not too much, anyway.”

“Eww, Ringo.” I winced. “T.M.I. Too Much Information.”

Ringo stood with his arms straight up and one knee bent into a deep lunge. He looked ready for take-off.

“Casey?” Melody said. “Tape, please?”

Oops. “Sorry.” I reached over and hit Play.

Whew. Tough work.

“Casey,” Melody scolded me. “Stay with us.”

Even when Melody was bossing me around it sounded so polite I couldn't get annoyed. I wished I could have an English accent.

Maybe then whenever my mouth was getting me in trouble, no one would mind so much.

I've been accused of being a little too in-your-face. I prefer to think of myself as someone who tells the truth and nothing but. Not every-one is comfortable with that, but that's what a journalist does. Bites deep to the core of things, then spits it out.

“So, anything interesting happen?” I asked Melody while Ringo went through his paces. “Did one of the rah-rahs dare to lack pep?”

Melody jumped down and sat beside me. “There was a minor flap at the start,” she informed me. “There seemed to be a bit of a to-do regarding Angelina's shoes.”I scanned the field for Angelina Carmichael.

I knew who she was because for the last few weeks she'd been hobbling around on crutches. She kind of resembled an elf or a fairy'all green eyes and wispy blond tendrils. Melody was right: Angelina was sitting on the sidelines in school clothes. “Did she practice at all?” I asked.

Melody shook her head.

“Maybe her ankle still hurts,” I suggested. Angelina's crutches had only recently disappeared. In fact, Ringo had performed with the squad at the last few games because Angelina was sidelined.

“Do you think Ringo will actually have a chance to take part in the competition?” Melody asked.

I shrugged. “He's only an alternate,” I reminded Melody. This was his reason for extra drills. Ringo wanted to come up with something so awesome, they'd just have to put him in.

“I hadn't realized these practices were spectator sports of their own,” Melody commented, eyeing people in the stands.

I looked around the stands. “They look mostly like parents.” I also recognized a few sixth- and seventh-grade girls who hadn't made the squad.

Get Real #7: Girl Reporter Gets the Skinny!. Copyright © by Linda Ellerbee. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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Sort by: Showing 1 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 15, 2001

    Hard Core Reporter into Hard-core business!!!

    Casey Smith, ace reporter is now playing detective. Angelina Carmichael is being hounded! Sprained ankle, egged shoes, cheerleading barbie covered in blood, are only a few of the pranks that are out to get her. But soon the pranks go to the SICKO ZONE, and things take a new turn. Does this all have to do with the cheerleading competition coming up that Trumbull is participating in? And whats with this new connection of Angelina and Ringo, is Melody going to be left out?? More new things happen, as we find out how middle school students truly struggle with their appearance, in a struggle to strive for a body like a model or famous actress, steroids, aneorexia, barfing your food.....too short, too fat, too scrawny are all things that are in the heads of middle school students today, and Casey Smith is out to stop it all using her best ally: writing.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
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