Read Online Don't Care High by Gordon Korman - Free Book Online Page B

don’t know.”
    Feldstein was skeptical. “I don’t know if I go for all this change. You know — clocks that give the right time, clean washrooms, new lighting. You can’t tell where it’s going to end. Before you know it, they’ll bring in the P.T.A., and then the staff’ll start taking over unused lockers and giving them away for not so much as a donut. I like the old ways.”
    â€œMike’s working to make those great days even greater,” Sheldon assured him.
    â€œWhen I think of Mike Otis, I see my 200C’s,” said Feldstein sulkily. “But I’ve got to admit he’s sharp. From the standpoint of someone who once tried to negotiate with Mike Otis, I have to say I feel sorry for the school board. Still, the guy is bad news. He ruined my retirement.”
    When sandblasting of the school’s stone front began, Sheldon had a large audience. “Mike Otis did this!” he shouted over the din of the machinery and the sounds of the usual morning traffic jam. “He saw what a dump the school was and went to work for us!”
    â€œWhat are you talking about!” called someone. “Who’s Mike Otis?”
    â€œThe student body president, you jerk!” exclaimed Wayne-o. “He’s the guy who fixed up the can! Don’t you know
anything
?”
    Sheldon beamed. He was making progress.
    * * *
    By Friday, Mr. Willis’s last period photography class had advanced to the enlarging stage. This was slightly behind schedule, as the teacher pointed out, for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that it was not possible to use chemicals at room temperature when the darkroom was fifty-seven degrees. Then there was Wayne-o’s annoying habit of arriving late and turning on the lights in the darkroom to see if anyone was there. And the class seemed to be having an inordinate amount of trouble just remembering to bring cameras to school. In many cases, there were no photographs to enlarge.
    Looking at his contact sheet, Paul was impressed to see that most of his shots had come out. He was gratified to note that the pictures of Mike’s car were sharp and comprehensive. He intended to mail those to the world’s foremost car experts in the hope that one of them could identify the vehicle.
    Mr. Willis came by and gazed critically at Paul’s work. “Not bad. I suggest you blow up —”
    â€œBlow up?” came a worried voice from across the room.
    â€œ
Enlarge!
” snapped Mr. Willis. He turned back to Paul. “Do the one of the front view of the car.”
    Paul had not counted on this. “Uh… but what about this one of these buildings?” He did not much care for presenting his picture of Mike’s car with Mike there. “I mean, the texture of the brick —”
    â€œBoring,” said Mr. Willis. “Do the car. That bizarre grill, the hood ornament, the whole shape — which junkyard did you find it in?”
    â€œThe school parking lot,” Paul admitted in a low voice.
    â€œReally?” remarked the teacher. “I wonder what it is.”
    By the end of the class, only three of the students had produced finished prints. Many others had been ruined when the print drying apparatus decided to commit suicide, and incinerated a large part of the class work.
    â€œNo harm done,” Mr. Willis was saying as the janitor sprayed fire-extinguisher foam on the smoking machine. Paul noted that none of his classmates seemed perturbed in the least by the accident. Equipment failure was a common thing at Don’t Care High.
    â€œJust a minor incident,” the teacher assured his bored class. “No problem. It’ll be good as new tomorrow.”
    The janitor glanced into the smouldering machine and pronounced, “Yep, you can write this sucker off.”
    â€œWell,” said Mr. Willis painfully, “we can still go back to the