He forced the spray, the mud and the danger to the back of his mind. His muscles were screaming with exhaustion. Behind him he could make out Edward — a squirming mass of muck.
Bump! His head came up against something hard. He rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes. He was at the foot of the wrought-iron fence! Outside the laser web! He was free!
He grabbed Edward and pulled him up to the fence. “We made it!” he exulted, ripping off his muddy stocking cap and throwing it high in the air. A gust of chill November wind caught the hat and blew it back toward the school.
Elmer and Edward watched in helpless agony as the knit cap descended into the laser web, cutting its way through the beams like a hot knife through butter.
The SectorWatch Fortress Ultra-Deluxe Banshee II alarm detonated the night in a supernova of pure noise. Sixty-seven loudspeakers roared to life, blaring a combination of sirens, horns, bells, buzzers and Klaxons. Every window at Miss Scrimmage’s school instantly shattered, the glass shooting six metres from the building. Red emergency beacons flashed all over, and the giant searchlight on the roof began sweeping the yard.
Elmer and Edward stood at the foot of the fence, bellowing at each other. But even a shriek directly into an ear could not be heard over the Banshee II. Girls in pink nighties began to appear in what was left of their windows, hands over their ears, faces contorted. At Macdonald Hall, pyjama-clad boys streamed out of the dormitories to investigate the disturbance. Even there, three football fields away, the noise of the alarm was unbearable.
Bruno and Boots were halfway back to their room when the alarm went off. In the crowd of boys pouring out onto the campus, Bruno pounced on the first familiar face. It was Pete Anderson.
“What’s going on?” he bellowed.
“Yeah, it’s pretty loud!” replied Pete.
Larry Wilson ran up to them, shivering in shorts and a T-shirt. “It’s Scrimmage’s alarm!” he shouted. “And I hate to tell you, Boots — I just checked. Your brother’s missing!”
Boots looked at Bruno. “What are we going to do?”
“Let him rot?” suggested Bruno hopefully. But even as he said it, he knew they had to rescue Edward. “Let’s go!”
* * *
Cathy Burton barrelled into her room, still carrying the salami she had been slicing. Desperately, she yanked apart the wire Elmer had reconnected, but this had no effect. She screamed urgently at Diane, who screamed urgently back. Neither could make out a single word. Inside Scrimmage’s, the Banshee II was an earsplitting, teeth-rattling, gut-shaking, brain-melting roar. It was almost like the total silence of outer space, because the horrible din blocked out all other sound.
Completely unable to communicate, Cathy threw open a drawer and began digging through a pile of underwear, firing it in all directions. At last, she emerged with the “borrowed” SectorWatch Instruction Manual.
Diane understood at once. There had to be some way to turn off the Banshee II before it busted every eardrum at Scrimmage’s.
Shoulder to shoulder, the girls windmilled through the manual, frantically searching for something that would shut down the alarm — C for Cancel, D for Disengage, O for Off, Q for Quiet — anything!
That was when Diane saw it:
OUTER ELECTRIFIED WIRE
In an alarm situation, the perimeter wire becomes electrified to prevent intruders from escaping from the premises.
The two exchanged a horrified look. Elmer and Edward didn’t know about that wire! They were going to be fried!
They ran out of their room. The halls were bedlam. Students were bumping into each other, scrambling in all directions, as though trying to outrun the paralyzing noise. Girls tied towels around their heads and stuffed cotton in their ears. Two were in a tug-of-war over a pair of airline ear protectors. Rex cowered under a table; he seemed to be barking wildly, although no one could hear it.
Through all this chaos charged Miss Scrimmage, shrieking instructions and loading fresh shells into her shotgun. The alarm was the last thing on her mind. An intruder was loose on the campus and she was going to defend her students.
Cathy and Diane raced down the main stairs and burst out the front door. They paused in surprise at finding the sprinklers on and the laser web illuminated like a red neon connect-the-dots. Then the searchlight fell on the wrought-iron fence. For a moment, there they were, Elmer and Edward, halfway up, captured in the beam like flies in amber. Along the top of the fence the girls could make out the electrified wire — innocent-looking now, but when somebody touched it —
The two girls ran out into the spray and mud.
* * *
Bruno and Boots lost the ability to talk to each other at the edge of the highway. The alarm was too loud and too close.
Communicating by hand signals and lip reading, they raced across the road.
Suddenly, Boots pointed. About twenty metres down, near the front gate, there was Edward and another boy. Bruno and Boots stared at each other and mouthed the word in unison: “Elmer?”
It was hard to be sure. Both fugitives were filthy from head to toe. The added weight of all that mud and their heavy wet clothes, plus near-total exhaustion, were making the climb slow and awkward.
Out of the laser-riddled sprinkler mist appeared Cathy and Diane, neck and neck in a full sprint, screaming and pointing at the top of the fence.
Bruno and Boots looked at each other and shrugged.
And then some mist from a sprinkler head drifted over the wrought-iron gate. A small shower of sparks shot out of the electrified wire.
“Edward!” screamed Boots at the top of his lungs. “The wire! Stay away from the wire!” Nobody heard him over the Banshee II. He didn’t even hear himself.
The two climbers were nearing the electrified wire. If they touched it soaking wet like they were — Edward heaved himself up to reach for the top.
“No-o-o-o!!” chorused Bruno, Boots, Cathy and Diane. Their warning was swallowed by the roar of the alarm.
Edward’s muddy hand began to close on the top of the fence and the electrified wire.
The door to Miss Scrimmage’s second-floor balcony was kicked open. Out stomped the Headmistress, curlers awry, eyes wild, shotgun levelled. She tripped over a little watering can, kicking it off her balcony. As she struggled to maintain her balance, she accidentally fired both barrels of the shotgun. The gun’s recoil knocked Miss Scrimmage back inside the balcony doors.
The shells ripped into a power-line transformer just as Edward’s hand clamped down on the top wire. Hundreds of faces turned upward to watch the fireworks display as the transformer exploded, spewing fountains of sparks and colour. Electricity was knocked out for everything within ten kilometres of the exploded power line — including the SectorWatch top wire. Edward and then Elmer clambered over the fence and jumped to the ground.
The dying transformer sizzled out. Both campuses went dark. And silent.
* * *
Boots held the flashlight while his brother Edward showered off the many layers of mud he had picked up on Miss Scrimmage’s front lawn. The younger boy’s clothes were already in the garbage Dumpster behind the dormitories.
Edward shampooed his hair for the fourth time. “I’ll bet a lot of guys are going to be late for class tomorrow — no lights, no clocks. And what’s going to be for breakfast? Cold cereal? Sour milk? Untoasted toast? Raw eggs?”
“Cut the comedy and hurry up,” growled Boots. “Boy, I always knew you were a pain. But until tonight, I didn’t realize you were nuts.”
“Mom must be here. I hear Mom,” said Edward innocently. He sniffed. “Hey, what do they use for fertilizer at Scrimmage’s? I still stink.”
“I mean, if you needed help with math, why didn’t you come to me?” said Boots as though no one had spoken. “Or Bruno? Better still, Elmer. He invented math! But no. You had to do it the hard way. You had to crawl under a laser web and risk putting eight million volts through your stupid carcass! I can just pictur
e myself calling up Mom with the big news that her little darling is a charcoal briquette!”
“Aha!” Edward turned off the water and wrapped himself in a towel. “You were worried.”
Boots took a step back. “Was not,” he said defensively.
“Were, too.”
“Maybe a little,” Boots admitted grudgingly. “Even though you’re a moron, you’re still my brother.”
Edward sniffled. “That was beautiful!” he wept emotionally.
Boots was unmoved. Edward could turn on fake tears at the drop of a hat. He switched off the flashlight, leaving them in the dark.
“Hey, turn that back on,” said Edward, back to his old self.
“Not until you promise to behave,” said Boots. “And I want to hear you say that we old men aren’t ready for the scrap heap yet.”
“Hey,” came Edward’s reply. “You ‘old men’ sure came through for me tonight!”
Boots turned on the light again. “I’m glad you’ve finally started to appreciate Bruno. I always told you what an amazing —”
“Bruno?” Edward interrupted with a snort. “He’s the same jerk he always was. But that guy Drimsdale — man, is he cool under fire! He lives on the edge!”
Chapter 21
Simple Surgery
Mr. Sturgeon was true to his word. Three days after SectorWatch Inc. removed the Fortress Ultra-Deluxe from Miss Scrimmage’s Finishing School for Young Ladies, he checked into Toronto General Hospital for the operation on his ingrown toenail.
It was a simple procedure. He would spend the night at the hospital, undergo surgery at eight the next morning and be home by late afternoon.
In his private room, the Headmaster did a little reading, telephoned his wife to say goodnight and switched off his bedside light. He was almost asleep — in that dreamlike state between waking and slumber — when a strange feeling came over him. And he knew with absolute certainty that he was being watched.
Disturbed, he opened his eyes and saw, in some alarm, that there were two dark figures standing by the side of his bed.
“Good heavens!” He sat bolt upright and switched on the light. There stood Bruno Walton and Boots O’Neal. “Have you both lost your minds?” the Headmaster raged. “How on earth did you get here?”
“A taxi,” Bruno admitted. “That got us to the commuter train. We took the subway once we hit town.”
“We had a little trouble figuring out the subway map,” Boots added. “Sorry to be bothering you so late. How do you feel, sir?”
“I am furious, of course!” Mr. Sturgeon exploded. “How should I feel when I run into two of my students, after lights-out, 70 kilometres from school?”
“Not that kind of feel, sir,” Bruno corrected. “How do you feel medically?”
The Headmaster ignored the question. “This goes beyond anything, even for you two! How dare you defy my rules to such an appalling degree? And then dance around in my face like you’re proud of it?”
“Shhh!” cautioned Bruno. “Sir, this is a hospital.”
“Explain yourselves!” bellowed the patient.
The boys exchanged a meaningful look. When Bruno spoke again there were tears in his eyes. “Sir, we talked it over and we decided that we don’t care if we get in trouble, or wash dishes, or even get expelled. You’ve been our Headmaster for a long time and we couldn’t pass up the chance to see you one last time.”
“One last time?” Mr. Sturgeon repeated, bewildered.
“Well,” Bruno explained gently, “the operation is tomorrow so we wanted to see you tonight just in case you don’t make it.”
The Headmaster frowned. “Don’t make what?”
“You know,” Bruno persisted. “What if you — like — well — uh — die?”
Mr. Sturgeon’s eyes bulged. “Die?”
Both boys nodded sombrely.
“But it’s only an ingrown toenail!”
Bruno and Boots stared in shock.
“It is?” gasped Boots. “You mean, like, a sore foot?”
The Headmaster was genuinely touched. “What in the world gave you the idea that I was at death’s door?”
Bruno shrugged. “Well, the cane and the limp. And then we started hearing stuff about hospitals and operations and how nothing else was going to do any good — so we put two and two together.”
“And came up with five,” concluded the patient. “Boys, this is a very simple surgery. I’ll be back at my desk by the end of the week.” He added, “You seem disappointed, Walton.”
“Oh, no, sir,” said Bruno. “It’s great news that you’re okay. It’s just that — well, we’re going to wash a lot of dishes for this and an ingrown toenail sort of isn’t worth it.”
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Sturgeon said sarcastically. “How inconsiderate of me. Perhaps I should ask the doctors for a new spleen. Would that do?”
Boots studied the floor. “We’re really going to get creamed over this one, aren’t we, sir?”
The Headmaster was disposed to be kind. “I suppose your hearts were in the right place.” He sighed. “And at least you didn’t involve anybody else in this lunatic enterprise.”
“Right,” agreed Bruno. “I mean, sort of … uh, not too many.”
The Headmaster sat forward in alarm. “Do you mean to tell me that there are Macdonald Hall students roaming around this hospital?”
“Oh, no, sir,” Boots blurted. “They’re all waiting downstairs in the lobby. We’re the only ones who could outrun the security guard.”
“If you see anybody, sir,” Bruno requested, “could you kind of pretend to be sicker than you really are? Because we all went through a lot of trouble to get here and the others are going to be pretty steamed if they find out you’re not dying.”
“I most certainly will not!” Mr. Sturgeon exclaimed angrily. “This is not a television sitcom —”
The door flew open and in bounded four young doctors in green surgical scrubs. The four ripped away their masks and stood before their Headmaster — Pete Anderson, Larry Wilson, Mark Davies and Wilbur Hackenschleimer.
“Sir, how are you?” asked Pete anxiously.
“I’m feeling very tired,” said Mr. Sturgeon through clenched teeth.
“How do you stop this thing?” cried a familiar voice. Sidney Rampulsky sped into the room, riding an out-of-control wheelchair. He executed a spectacular wheelie and bailed out a split second before the chair smashed into the wall.
Sidney sat up, rubbing his head. “Is there a doctor in the house?”
Pete nudged Larry. “Boy, Mr. Sturgeon really is sick,” he whispered. “His face is turning purple.”
Next came Edward O’Neal, pushing a long medical gurney. The sheet on top stirred, and out peered Cathy Burton and Diane Grant.
“Hello, sir!” called Cathy. “We came to wish you luck!”
Mr. Sturgeon looked daggers at Bruno and Boots. “You neglected to mention that a few of the young ladies came along for the ride.” His bedside phone began to ring. “Ah, that must be Miss Scrimmage now. No doubt she’s just noticed that some of her students are missing.”
“Don’t answer it, sir,” Diane pleaded.
“Believe me, Miss Grant, I do not wish to deal with your Headmistress tonight any more than you do.”
The ringing stopped.
Elmer Drimsdale and Marylou Beakman brought up the rear. “I used to stand on the lawn,” Elmer was saying, “trying to work up the courage to go over and talk to you. One night the crest on my T-shirt was recorded on video and I became a suspect. They thought I was the Phantom.”
“But who was the real Phantom?” asked Marylou.
“Nobody knows,” Mark supplied. “But when I printed my special Student Times on the big riot, the headline had been tampered with. I ended up running off three hundred copies of PHANTOM RETIRES — SO LONG, SUCKERS.” He shook his head. “I still can’t figure out how he got to the press. Mrs. Sturgeon was watching the print shop the whole time!”
Elmer nodded. “The Phantom was remarkably clever. Maybe he’d know how to get me out of the Music-by-Mail Record Club.”
Mark Davies held a mini tape recorder under Mr. Sturgeon’s nose. “Sir, do you have any final comments for the Student Times?”
“I’ve had enough!” bellowed the Headmaster, standing up on his bed. “It is time for this madness to stop! I am a very sick man, facing delicate surgery! I do not have the strength to participate in a circus!”
A shocked silence fell. Mr. Sturgeon looked at the cowed faces and noted with satisfaction that he had control of the room.
“Out! Out! All of you! You will all go to the waiting room, where you will wait! I shall call Mr. Flynn and he will be making arrangements to pick you up. Dismissed!”
Obediently, the chastened students began to file out of the room.
Bruno and Boots were the last to leave.
Bruno paused at the door. “Thanks, sir, for not telling them about the ingrown toenail.”
“What made you change your mind?” added Boots.
The Headmaster resettled himself on his bed. “You boys are fully aware that my wife was the notorious Phantom. And yet no one else knows and none of the usual rumours have been circulating. Boys, I am very grateful that, out of respect for me, you have decided to keep silent.”
Boots looked surprised. “It had nothing to do with respect, sir.”
Mr. Sturgeon was taken aback. “Then why didn’t you tell?”
“Well, we wanted to,” explained Bruno. “We were just about to spread it around to all the guys. But then it hit us — who would believe it? That sounds like the stupidest joke of all!”
About the Author
Gordon Korman’s first book, This Can’t Be Happening at Macdonald Hall!, was published when he was only fourteen. Since then he has written more than seventy teen and middle-grade novels, including six more books about Macdonald Hall. Favourites include the New York Times bestselling The 39 Clues: Cahills vs. Vespers Book One: The Medusa Plot; Ungifted; Schooled; and the Hypnotist, Swindle and Island series. Born and raised in Canada, Gordon now lives with his family on Long Island, New York.
The Joke's on Us Page 13
