The Joke's on Us

by Gordon Korman

  Boots put an iron grip on his arm. “We can’t. Not unless we’re one hundred percent positive it’s Edward.”

  Bruno sat back down. “Think of all the guys we know. Who else could be the Phantom?”

  “Well,” Boots began slowly. “Maybe none of the guys could pull off those stunts, but —”

  Bruno snapped his fingers. “Cathy! Cathy and Diane!”

  “Cathy could do it with one hand tied behind her back!” added Boots.

  Bruno shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. How could Cathy and Diane be the Phantom? They haven’t been on Macdonald Hall property all year.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Boots.

  Bruno shrugged. “They’re our friends. If they were here, they would have dropped by our room to say hi, right?”

  “Unless,” said Boots, “they’re avoiding us, because they don’t want us to find out they’re the Phantom.”

  There was a long pause, as the two pondered this.

  At last, Bruno spoke. “This is getting more complicated than I thought. Okay, it might be Cathy and Diane, and that explains why they haven’t come by. If it’s not them, it’s Edward —”

  “Right,” confirmed Boots. He frowned. “But if my brother’s the Phantom, what’s been keeping the girls away?”

  * * *

  It was after midnight when Cathy swung a leg over the sill of her room at Miss Scrimmage’s Finishing School for Young Ladies. She looked back at Diane, who was cowering by the window. “What’s your problem?”

  Diane’s voice was haunted. “He’s out there somewhere. I know it.”

  “Don’t be such a baby,” laughed Cathy. “Let’s go. Bruno and Boots probably think we’ve died.”

  “They might be right,” Diane muttered, easing herself out the window.

  The two girls were halfway down the drainpipe when the barking began. It seemed to be coming from the apple orchard, but the echoes surrounded them.

  “Tyrannosaurus Rex!” squeaked Diane in terror.

  The big Doberman burst into the clearing and stopped on a dime under the downspout, growling and drooling up at them.

  Diane tried to shinny back up to the room, but Cathy grabbed her ankle and held her back.

  “Relax, Diane. I’ve thought of everything.” From her jacket pocket, Cathy produced a lumpy package covered in tin foil. Carefully, she peeled off the wrapping to reveal a large lump of ground beef. This she held out toward Rex. “Take a whiff of this, you carnivorous mutt,” she called softly. “Raw meat. Your favourite.” To Diane she whispered, “Get ready to run for it.”

  “But, Cathy —”

  Before Diane could protest, Cathy lobbed the hamburger toward the apple orchard. Rex took off after the flying meat.

  “Now!” Cathy hauled Diane down the drainpipe, and the two sprinted for the wrought-iron fence.

  Out of the corner of their eyes, the fleeing girls caught sight of Rex leaping straight up in the air, catching the meat and wolfing it down in a single gulp. There was no way they could make it to the fence before the Doberman came after them.

  “Retreat!” hissed Cathy.

  At that, she was a good three steps behind Diane in the race back to their window. Cathy hit the drainpipe climbing, but not before Rex’s powerful jaws had removed five centimetres from the cuff of her jeans.

  Once in the room, the two stood panting while Rex clawed the drainpipe and barked up at them.

  “He really is a Tyrannosaurus rex!” breathed Cathy in awe. “That was half a kilo of hamburger! He didn’t eat it; he inhaled it!”

  “That’s nothing!” gasped Diane. “I saw Miss Scrimmage feeding him today! He cleaned out his dish and then attacked the bag! Miss Smedley’s still in shock!”

  Cathy sat down on her bed, frowning. “Man, this stinks. We can’t get over to see Bruno and Boots. For all we know, Macdonald Hall might have burned to the ground and that’s an empty shell standing across the road! The guys are probably mixed up in all kinds of cool stuff by now and we’re missing it!”

  Diane shrugged. “What choice do we have? Tyrannosaurus Rex is an eating machine! He’ll eat anything and lots of it.”

  “You’re right,” Cathy said glumly. Suddenly, a fiendish grin spread itself across her fair features. “Yeah! You’re right!”

  Diane was cautious. “I don’t like that look on your face.”

  “He’ll eat anything!” Cathy repeated.” And it’s our job to see that he gets it. Starting tomorrow, we’re waitresses!”

  Diane was mystified. “Who are we waiting on?

  “One great, big, nasty, ugly Tyrannosaurus Rex.”

  Chapter 6

  Niagara Falls

  Edward O’Neal was shooting baskets alone in the gym when his shot was suddenly blocked by a high-reaching hand.

  His older brother Boots grabbed the ball out of the air and rolled it into the equipment room. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “I wasn’t ‘all over,’” said Edward. “I was here.”

  “The word is you’re here a lot,” said Boots. His eyes narrowed. “When you’re not sneaking out in the middle of the night. Ever do any work?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  Boots frowned. “Look, Edward. Personally, I don’t care if you finish up the year with a zero percent average. But Mom has already promised me a very un-merry Christmas if you flunk out.”

  “I’m not going to flunk!” blustered Edward.

  “Not even math?”

  The younger boy was startled. “How do you know about math?”

  Boots shrugged expansively. “Mom is like the CIA. She’s got all our weaknesses on file.”

  Edward shuffled uncomfortably. “Okay, I’ve had a few problems with math. But I’m taking care of them. Don’t worry, I won’t ruin your Christmas.”

  “Good,” Boots nodded. “Because if I have a bad holiday, yours is going to be worse.”

  * * *

  Miss Scrimmage sat at the head table in the pink and silver dining room, picking daintily at her lunch. She always made a point of eating with her students. That way she could coach them on those subtle matters of etiquette — the proper way to hold a pickle fork or to dab at one’s mouth with a linen napkin. Some of the parents called her old-fashioned, but that didn’t bother Miss Scrimmage. One day, she knew, her young ladies might be called upon to eat a piece of corn on the cob in the presence of kings, presidents and prime ministers. Her girls would be ready.

  “Catherine, Diane!” She stopped them at the door. “Why on earth are you carrying such enormous parcels?”

  Cathy shifted her weight under the jam-packed green garbage bag of food she was hefting. “Just a little snack to get me through the afternoon.”

  “We’re always starving by dinnertime,” put in Diane, struggling with her own supplies.

  “But why so much?” Miss Scrimmage peeked inside Cathy’s parcel. It contained cold cuts, a slab of lasagna, Salisbury steak, potato chips, an assortment of cookies and cupcakes and almost half of a lemon meringue pie. “These foods are so high in fat! Haven’t you been paying attention in Miss Smedley’s health class?”

  “We’re doing square dancing in phys. ed.,” said Cathy airily. “It burns a zillion calories.” And she headed off with her burden.

  Miss Scrimmage watched as Cathy and Diane were followed by a long procession. Each of the girls was just as loaded down with leftovers as Cathy. She frowned. Afternoon snacks. How odd!

  * * *

  “Wow, look at him eat!” breathed Ruth Sidwell in awe.

  A crowd of girls were packed into the equipment room off the gym watching Rex devour mountains of leftovers from lunch.

  “We’re probably next,” said Diane nervously.

  Wilma Dorf looked perplexed. “I don’t get it. Isn’t he going to get fat if we keep feeding him like this?”

  Cathy looked at her pityingly. “That’s the whole point, Wilma. We’re going to take this lean, mean killing mach
ine and turn him into a chubby, slow, happy, paunchy pooch. This Tyrannosaurus’s life is going to be suppertime, naptime, suppertime, naptime. Got it?”

  Ruth nodded. “If he’s always eating and sleeping, he can’t be mauling any of us.”

  Diane was unconvinced. “He doesn’t look like he’s ready to roll over and fall asleep. He looks like he’s ready for another seventeen lemon meringue pies.”

  On cue, Rex inhaled the last of the pie and turned his attention to a stack of sliced bologna.

  “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” lectured Cathy. “Let’s hope the cafeteria has plenty of doggy bags. Prepare for a canine smorgasbord!”

  * * *

  First period math class had been going on for about ten minutes when Boots happened to glance up. Bright colours caught his eye. That’s when he looked to the ceiling and saw the dozens of water balloons hanging above them.

  He nudged Wilbur in the desk beside him. “Pssst,” he whispered, pointing his index finger straight up.

  Wilbur craned his neck. “Whoa!”

  Sidney followed Wilbur’s gaze and turned pale. “How did those get up there?” he hissed.

  Three pairs of eyes traced the long white strings that stretched from the dangling water balloons to the classroom door.

  “Uh-oh,” said Wilbur. “You don’t suppose it’s hooked up so that, when the door opens, all the balloons fall —”

  “We’re trapped!” managed Sidney in agony.

  “O’Neal, Hackenschleimer, Rampulsky —” Mr. Stratton said sternly. “Would you care to let the whole class in on your conversation?”

  Boots swallowed hard. “Sorry, sir, but we couldn’t help noticing all those, uh, water balloons on the ceiling, and —”

  The teacher looked up. “Good Lord!” he blurted, jumping back as though jolted with a severe electric shock. “All right, nobody panic! We shall proceed out the door in an orderly —”

  “Not the door!” bellowed Wilbur. “That’ll drop the balloons!”

  “The window!” cried Sidney, and led the stampede for the front of the room. Unfortunately, he tripped over a desk leg and crashed to the floor, blocking the way.

  There was a polite knock at the door. “Mr. Stratton?” called Larry Wilson from the hall.

  “No-o-o!” It came from at least a dozen throats.

  Larry opened the door, tugging on the series of strings. By the time the office messenger peered inside, water balloons were raining down from the ceiling, exploding on Mr. Stratton and his hapless students.

  “What’d I do?” asked Larry, mystified.

  And as the drenched class filed out of the room to change into dry clothes, Boots saw it. It was floating in a small puddle just inside the doorway: another brown feather.

  * * *

  “Sorry about that, Boots,” Larry was saying as he walked across the campus with Bruno and Boots. “I just opened the door and all of a sudden, Niagara Falls!”

  “Don’t sweat it, Larry,” Bruno assured him. “We know it wasn’t you. It was the Phantom.”

  Larry stared at him. “The who?”

  “There’s a phantom practical joker at Macdonald Hall. He’s the guy who’s been pulling all this stuff.”

  “Yeah, well I’m pretty sure The Fish thinks it’s us,” Boots said bitterly. “Why else would we be called to his office again?”

  “Hey, Larry,” said Bruno as they entered the Faculty Building. “What have you found out about The Fish and his cane and all that?”

  “All he’ll say is that it’s medical,” Larry replied in a low voice. “But I overheard him on the phone talking about an operation.”

  “I knew it!” exclaimed Bruno. “The Fish is really sick!”

  “What kind of operation?” asked Boots.

  Larry shook his head. “No idea. Okay, you guys can go in now.”

  * * *

  Mr. Sturgeon leaned across his desk and fixed Bruno and Boots with his best fishy stare. “I received a call from our gardener today. The man was hysterical. He insisted there were apples growing on the oak trees. It turned out they were tied on with wire. Also, in the kitchen, the toasters had been loaded with bread, turned on their sides, and connected so that all six would pop the instant the door was opened. Our kitchen staff was shot with toast this morning. In addition, there was an incident involving water balloons with which I believe you, O’Neal, are familiar.” The Headmaster leaned back in his chair. “The entire campus is buzzing with these stories, and two names are being bandied about as the probable culprits: Walton and O’Neal.”

  Bruno spoke up. “Sir, we have reason to believe that this is all the work of a phantom practical joker.”

  Mr. Sturgeon seemed unimpressed. “But is it the work of a phantom practical joker named Walton?” He turned to Boots. “Or O’Neal?”

  Boots’s reply was earnest. “Sir, we weren’t lying before, and we aren’t lying now.”

  The Headmaster paused. Should he ask about Miss Scrimmage’s voodoo curse? He frowned. That would be unfair. Walton and O’Neal had always been mischievous, but never had they been involved in anything related to the occult. And they certainly couldn’t be held responsible for Miss Scrimmage’s insane imagination.

  “Very well,” he said finally. “But I must warn you boys. I do not give my trust lightly. And if it is misplaced here, things will go very, very hard for you. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” chorused Bruno and Boots.

  * * *

  Heading back for Dormitory 3, the boys ran into Elmer Drimsdale. The school genius was on his way to the mail drop, hugging a small package to his chest.

  “What have you got there, Elm?” Bruno greeted. “More stuff for your girlfriend?”

  Elmer flushed. “Marylou Beakman is obviously a very shy person. I haven’t heard anything from her about my first present.”

  “Maybe she was speechless when she got the rodent skull,” Boots suggested.

  “Well, this time I’m taking your advice, Bruno,” Elmer declared. “I’m sending her something so spectacular she’ll have to sit up and take notice.”

  Bruno regarded the little box critically. “Jewellery, right? Gee, Elm, I hope you didn’t spend too much —”

  Elmer waved his hand impatiently. “Nothing as shallow and mindless as that! I’m giving a rare and invaluable gift.”

  Both boys looked at him expectantly.

  Elmer motioned them closer, as though he were about to share top-secret, classified information. “Last week I came into possession of a small sample of the droppings of the Tasmanian Mountain Sparrow.”

  “Yeah, but what’s the present?” asked Bruno.

  “I’m sending her half of my specimen,” Elmer said proudly.

  It took a moment for this to sink in.

  “You’re giving her droppings?” asked Boots in disbelief.

  “Bird droppings?” added Bruno.

  “The droppings of the Tasmanian Mountain Sparrow are the most nutrient-rich of any species of bird in the world!” Elmer crowed gleefully. “The opportunities for study will be limitless. Not to mention how difficult this specimen is to come by in the northern hemisphere. This is one present Marylou will never forget!”

  “You can say that again,” put in Boots.

  “Say, Elm,” Bruno began carefully. “Are you sure that Marylou is as big on science as you are? If she is — great! She’ll love it. But if she isn’t — well, getting bird droppings in the mail could be kind of a turnoff for some girls.”

  “I’ve thought of that,” Elmer told them. “And that’s why I’ve included a thorough explanation of exactly what the specimen is.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to hurry. I want to catch today’s mail pickup.” And he rushed off, cradling his package.

  “Something tells me this romance isn’t going to work out,” Boots commented dryly.

  Bruno nodded. “Poor Elmer.” He shrugged. “On the other hand, maybe Elmer’s right and Marylou is really going to groove on this stu
ff —”

  Bruno and Boots looked at each other thoughtfully. “Nah!” they chorused, and walked off, laughing.

  * * *

  Bruno and Boots were just drifting off to sleep that night, when a frantic scratching at the window disturbed them.

  “I’ll bet it’s Cathy and Diane,” yawned Bruno. “It’s about time they came over to see us.”

  Boots threw open the window, and both boys peered out. There, hopelessly entangled in the honeysuckle bushes, lay Sidney Rampulsky.

  “Sidney! What are you doing here?” whispered Boots, reaching out an arm.

  Sidney took Boots’s outstretched arm and hoisted himself over the sill into the room. “You said to keep an eye on Edward,” he replied breathlessly. “Well, he just snuck out of our dorm.”

  Bruno clapped his hands together with determination. “Tonight we nail the Phantom! Where’d he go?”

  Sidney looked blank. “How should I know? As soon as I saw him leave I came over here.”

  The three scrambled out the window and scanned the darkened campus. Boots, who had the best night sight, spied their quarry first. Edward O’Neal, dressed in black, was making his way across the campus.

  “Don’t lose him,” hissed Bruno as they followed from a safe distance. “I can’t wait to catch your brother and take his Phantom feathers and stick them up his nose one at a time.”

  Boots squinted into the gloom. Edward was scampering for the highway. “He’s headed for Scrimmage’s!”

  “I thought the Phantom only struck at Macdonald Hall,” put in Sidney.

  “Come on,” said Bruno grimly. “Let’s follow him.”

  “Aw, Bruno!” Boots complained. “Even if he is the Phantom, he’s not phantoming tonight. Let’s just go back to sleep.”

  But Bruno was already starting for the road. “Our biggest suspects are Edward and Cathy,” he lectured. “If they’re meeting tonight, I want to get to the bottom of it. Maybe it’s a conspiracy.”

  Boots and Sidney exchanged helpless shrugs and darted after Bruno. There was a brief moment of panic when Sidney fell off the wrought-iron fence surrounding Miss Scrimmage’s school, but he was only winded, and the chase resumed.

  “Wait a minute,” whispered Boots. “He’s not going to Cathy and Diane’s room.”