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Authors: Gordon Korman
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on the new Assistant Headmistress. She could still recall her conversation with Miss Peabody the morning after the bigriot.
“You’re going to run a lot of laps for causing that ruckus last night, Burton.”
“But Miss Peabody,” Cathy had protested innocently, “you’ve got no proof that I had anything to do with it!”
“I’ve got all the proof I need, Burton — a gut feeling that you did it.”
Cathy grinned in spite of herself at the memory of Diane coming back from the cleanup detail outside Miss Peabody’s room.
“Remember all that furniture you piled up there?” Diane had gasped. “Splinters! Toothpicks! Sawdust! Peabody’s a juggernaut! She must know karate or something!”
Miss Peabody had stomped around the corner just then. “It was jiu-jitsu. I learned it in the Marines.” Then she had assigned two laps for each of them.
Cathy had spent her sparse amount of free time that week releasing field mice into Miss Peabody’s room, short-sheeting her bed, greasing her floor and over-spicing her food. All of these things met with a degree of success that matched the number of laps Cathy was slapped with. She had even placed a tape recorder in the Assistant Headmistress’s room. While Miss Peabody slept, it played over and over again the words:
“Tomorrow you will be sweet and nice and kind and not rotten at all.”
But the next day Miss Peabody had been worse than ever, complaining of a restless night and terrible dreams.
Miss Scrimmage, meanwhile, was too terrified to interfere. She had taken to spending all her time reading in her sitting room. Miss Peabody was in charge.
* * *
While Boots was out at track and field practice, Bruno, as always, sat at his desk finishing up the very last of his lines.
There was a sharp knock at the door.
“Go away!” growled Bruno, who didn’t feel like seeing anyone. “I’m busy!”
The knocking resumed, louder and more persistent.
“Oh, all right!” Bruno got up and opened the door. There stood Elmer Drimsdale, his crew cut in disarray, his glasses awry, his tie undone. His face was flushed, and his eyes were rolling strangely.
“Elmer, what happened to you?”
Elmer stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him. “Bruno, I am incensed!”
“Yeah, I know that,” said Bruno incredulously. The normally placid, timid Elmer, who never raised his voice above a whisper, was waving his arms and shouting.
“Are you aware of what happened last night!
Are you aware of what happened last night?”
“Calm down, Elmer. How could I be? What happened?”
“All right, I’ll tell you what happened!” stormed Elmer. “It was an incredibly clear night last night and I had my telescope focused on globular cluster M-13 in the constellation Hercules. It was wonderful. Everything was so clear …” A dreamy look passed over Elmer’s face. “Then Mr. Wizzle caught me. He confiscated my telescope and searched my room! He took away my microscope and all my bacterial cultures! He emptied my bathtub and completely ruined my mollusc experiment! Myhybrid grain experiment went, too, along with most of my plants and all my data! He even took my ant colony! Oh, I’m so mad! I have twenty demerits now! I have to write lines! How demeaning! How stultifying! If I were a violent person, I would kick something!”
“Go right ahead,” Bruno invited.
Elmer reared back and delivered Boots’s bed a mighty kick.
“Feel better?”
“No!” Elmer hopped around the room cradling his foot. “I think I’ve injured all my metatarsals! Bruno, I have concluded that being expelled is nothing compared with being deprived of my experiments! I want you to help me remove Mr. Wizzle from Macdonald Hall!”
Bruno’s face broke into a wide grin. “Now you’re talking! Wizzle must go!”
“Indisputably!” stormed Elmer. “And we’ll start immediately — as soon as we stop by at the infirmary and see about my foot.”
“Right,” grinned Bruno. “We’ll
“You’re going to run a lot of laps for causing that ruckus last night, Burton.”
“But Miss Peabody,” Cathy had protested innocently, “you’ve got no proof that I had anything to do with it!”
“I’ve got all the proof I need, Burton — a gut feeling that you did it.”
Cathy grinned in spite of herself at the memory of Diane coming back from the cleanup detail outside Miss Peabody’s room.
“Remember all that furniture you piled up there?” Diane had gasped. “Splinters! Toothpicks! Sawdust! Peabody’s a juggernaut! She must know karate or something!”
Miss Peabody had stomped around the corner just then. “It was jiu-jitsu. I learned it in the Marines.” Then she had assigned two laps for each of them.
Cathy had spent her sparse amount of free time that week releasing field mice into Miss Peabody’s room, short-sheeting her bed, greasing her floor and over-spicing her food. All of these things met with a degree of success that matched the number of laps Cathy was slapped with. She had even placed a tape recorder in the Assistant Headmistress’s room. While Miss Peabody slept, it played over and over again the words:
“Tomorrow you will be sweet and nice and kind and not rotten at all.”
But the next day Miss Peabody had been worse than ever, complaining of a restless night and terrible dreams.
Miss Scrimmage, meanwhile, was too terrified to interfere. She had taken to spending all her time reading in her sitting room. Miss Peabody was in charge.
* * *
While Boots was out at track and field practice, Bruno, as always, sat at his desk finishing up the very last of his lines.
There was a sharp knock at the door.
“Go away!” growled Bruno, who didn’t feel like seeing anyone. “I’m busy!”
The knocking resumed, louder and more persistent.
“Oh, all right!” Bruno got up and opened the door. There stood Elmer Drimsdale, his crew cut in disarray, his glasses awry, his tie undone. His face was flushed, and his eyes were rolling strangely.
“Elmer, what happened to you?”
Elmer stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him. “Bruno, I am incensed!”
“Yeah, I know that,” said Bruno incredulously. The normally placid, timid Elmer, who never raised his voice above a whisper, was waving his arms and shouting.
“Are you aware of what happened last night!
Are you aware of what happened last night?”
“Calm down, Elmer. How could I be? What happened?”
“All right, I’ll tell you what happened!” stormed Elmer. “It was an incredibly clear night last night and I had my telescope focused on globular cluster M-13 in the constellation Hercules. It was wonderful. Everything was so clear …” A dreamy look passed over Elmer’s face. “Then Mr. Wizzle caught me. He confiscated my telescope and searched my room! He took away my microscope and all my bacterial cultures! He emptied my bathtub and completely ruined my mollusc experiment! Myhybrid grain experiment went, too, along with most of my plants and all my data! He even took my ant colony! Oh, I’m so mad! I have twenty demerits now! I have to write lines! How demeaning! How stultifying! If I were a violent person, I would kick something!”
“Go right ahead,” Bruno invited.
Elmer reared back and delivered Boots’s bed a mighty kick.
“Feel better?”
“No!” Elmer hopped around the room cradling his foot. “I think I’ve injured all my metatarsals! Bruno, I have concluded that being expelled is nothing compared with being deprived of my experiments! I want you to help me remove Mr. Wizzle from Macdonald Hall!”
Bruno’s face broke into a wide grin. “Now you’re talking! Wizzle must go!”
“Indisputably!” stormed Elmer. “And we’ll start immediately — as soon as we stop by at the infirmary and see about my foot.”
“Right,” grinned Bruno. “We’ll
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