Authors: Gordon Korman
In the darkness of room 306, Bruno Walton’s face took on a look of grim determination. “That does it!” he exclaimed. “They’re starving us, they’re forcing us out of our dorm, and now they’re selling our school right out from under us! We won’t let this happen!”
Boots, who had long ago learned to recognize the beginning of one of Bruno’s crusades, felt a twinge of uneasiness. “This is all management and high finance,” he protested. “It’s even above The Fish. What can
we
do about it?”
“Well, I know what we
can’t
do,” replied Bruno. “We can’t just sit back and let the Hall go down the drain! And that’s exactly why the Macdonald Hall Preservation Society is meeting tomorrow at lunch!”
The following Saturday morning, Miss Scrimmage’s girls were enjoying a delightful brunch on the front lawn of the school. At the head of the table Miss Scrimmage herself was pouring tea. Unnoticed by her, two girls had stolen away to the apple orchard adjoining the school. From halfway up a large tree Cathy Burton was staring across the road through her binoculars.
“I told you something weird was going on at the Hall,” she called down to her blonde roommate, Diane Grant. “The whole place is in an uproar. It looks as if they’re moving or something.”
“Moving where?” asked Diane, mystified.
“That’s just it,” was the reply. “They’re not moving anywhere. They just seem to be walking around with suitcases and beds. And bumping into each other a lot.”
“Can you see Bruno or Boots?” Diane asked.
“There they are,” said Cathy. “Boots is just standing there. And Bruno’s sitting on the biggest pile of stuff you ever saw!”
“Catherine! Diane!” Miss Scrimmage came marching into the orchard, her expression severe. “Young ladies do not perch about in trees, nor do they leave the table without permission. You will be restricted to your room this evening and every evening this week. Return to your places at once.”
“Don’t worry,” whispered Cathy to Diane as she dropped to the ground. “They’ll let us in on it soon enough.”
* * *
Across the road, the objects of their attention were busy hauling beds and belongings from Dormitory 3 to the other two buildings. In the midst of the hubbub, Bruno Walton had flopped down on his possessions. “You go on without me,” he said dramatically to Boots. “I’ll be along — eventually.”
“Come on,” said Boots. “Let’s get there and get it over with!” They were both finding it hard to leave 306. Reluctantly Bruno struggled to his feet. The two boys piled their belongings on top of the bed and began to carry the whole arrangement towards Dormitory 2.
“It’s a good thing,” Bruno muttered, “that Elmer has a spare bed. It would kill me if we had to carry two of them!”
They managed to struggle into the building and down the hall to room 201. Bruno kicked the door open.
“Hi, Elmer. It’s us. We’re moving in.”
Elmer turned from his desk where he had been peering through a microscope and making notes.
“Hello,” he greeted them. “Come right in. You can put the bed right over — uh — where
can
you put the bed?”
The room was already filled almost to capacity. A large fish tank gurgled on top of the bureau, and a huge sand-filled terrarium — the home of Elmer’s ant colony — perched beside it. Books were piled everywhere, and an assortment of peculiar-looking devices lined the walls. On every available surface a plant pot stood. There was a fern, a trailing ivy, a Venus fly-trap, a desert yucca and, pride of the collection, a two-metre cactus currently in flower. There were also countless unidentifiable herbs and fungi. The only wall decoration was a large labelled diagram of the Pacific salmon. It was rumoured at Macdonald Hall that Elmer kept an endless supply of these in case the one in use became shabby.
Bruno indicated a complicated-looking mechanical device standing against the wall. “Why don’t we move that electroformionic impulse pussy-footer, or whatever it is?” he suggested.
“Oh, we can’t do that,” said Elmer. “It’s bolted to the floor. You’ll just have to put the bed in front of the door.”
“But how will we get in and out?” asked Boots, more concerned with getting out than in.
“We’ll have to climb over it,” said Elmer. He peered at Boots earnestly through his large horn-rimmed glasses. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Oh, no, of course not,” said Boots, thinking longingly of nice, roomy 306. He cast a stricken glance at Bruno. Bruno shrugged.
* * *
“Listen!” cried Sidney “Butterfingers” Rampulsky indignantly across the lunch table. “Everyone drops a clock now and then!”
“But you dropped
my
clock!” protested Larry Wilson, his new roommate. “And you broke it!”
“Well, I cut my finger on the glass,” protested Sidney. “Don’t I get any sympathy for that?” He held up a bandaged finger to support his claim.
“No,” said Larry sourly. “If Macdonald Hall didn’t have to keep a klutz like you in bandages it wouldn’t be in such a pickle now.”
“That pickle,” Bruno Walton cut in, “is what we’re here to discuss.”
“They cut out pickles five weeks ago,” sighed Wilbur Hackenschleimer.
“I thought we were here to eat.” Boots looked with distaste at a dainty cucumber sandwich. “But I guess I was wrong about that.”
Ignoring them, Bruno got up and surveyed the table. Larry and Sidney were still glaring at each other. Big Wilbur Hackenschleimer sat dreaming of a triple-decker hamburger with the works. Pete Anderson, who was now rooming with Wilbur, Elmer Drimsdale and Boots made up the rest of the committee.
“Macdonald Hall is in trouble,” Bruno announced dramatically, “and the responsibility of saving it rests with us, the Macdonald Hall Preservation Society!”
The boys looked at him uneasily — Bruno’s causes were notorious.
“I’m having enough trouble saving myself,” said Wilbur. “Besides the fact that they’re not feeding us, what’s wrong with Macdonald Hall?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” exclaimed Bruno. “It’s going down the tube! They may even put it up for sale!”
“That’s ridiculous,” snapped Pete. “The Fish would never allow it!”
“The Fish is only Headmaster,” Bruno reminded him. “He doesn’t own the place; he just works here. He’s a victim, like the rest of us.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Sidney flatly.
“Believe it,” said Larry. “I’m The Fish’s messenger. I’m around to hear what goes on in his office, and it’s true.”
“What do you think all these economy measures are for?” added Boots.
“That’s right,” agreed Bruno. “It’s a bad situation and we’ve —”
The salt shaker in Elmer’s hand slipped from his fingers and clattered to the table. He raised astounded, owl-like eyes to Bruno. “Do you mean that Macdonald Hall is going bankrupt?”
“We just finished saying that, Elmer,” said Bruno patiently. Although Elmer was the school’s genius, he was not known for his quick grasp of everyday matters. “Pay attention. This is very important if we’re going to save the school.”
“But what can
we
do?” asked Pete. “We’re just students.”
“Well, it seems to me,” said Bruno who had, as usual, taken over the proceedings, “that if we can do something really great and get a lot of coverage in the newspapers and on radio and TV, then we’ll get all sorts of new students. Everybody’ll want to send their boys to a school where such terrific things happen.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Sidney.
“What terrific things?” asked Boots cautiously. He had been involved too many times before in Bruno’s outrageous schemes.
“Well, that’s going to be the hard part,” admitted Bruno. “I haven’t thought of any yet. But I’ll have a suggestion box outside our room — that’s 201 — right after lunch. Talk it up a lot so all the guys will know. I want that box full of suggestions by morning. If we don’t come up with an idea to put this place on the map, then we don’t deserve to keep Macdonald Hall!”
* * *
After lunch Bruno, Boots and Elmer went back to Dormitory 2 and climbed over Boots’s bed into their room. “Elmer, what have you got for a suggestion box?” asked Bruno. “Ah — there’s something.” He reached down and tapped a large black box that sat on the floor by the bureau.
“No!” cried Elmer. “Don’t touch that! It’s extremely delicate electronic equipment. I’m working on a groundbreaking new method of television broadcasting. The digitized images are beamed along pathways of charged particles in the atmosphere. I call it Positive Ion Transmission — PIT for short.”
“Hot gazoobies!” said Bruno happily. “Our first suggestion. You invent some new TV thing and we’ll get all sorts of publicity. But I still haven’t got a suggestion box. I know, we’ll use Boots’s suitcase.” He picked up a canvas duffle bag, zipped it open, dumped the contents on the floor and smiled in triumph. “Come on, Boots. Make yourself useful. Draw up a sign saying
Suggestion Box
.”
“Can I pick my clothes up off the floor first,
sir
!” asked Boots sarcastically.
“Oh, we’ll help you do that,” Bruno replied cheerfully. “Elmer, pick up his clothes. Hurry up with that sign, Boots. I’m expecting millions of suggestions.”
“And what will you be doing, oh master?”
Bruno hurled himself onto his new bed and wriggled until he was quite comfortable. “I thought I’d take a nap,” he replied. “We’ve got to get to Scrimmage’s tonight.”
“Why?” asked Boots. “We’ve got plenty of food left.”
“We need the girls’ suggestions,” said Bruno. “And,” he added, “it wouldn’t hurt to get in a little more food. Don’t forget, we’re begging for three now.”
Elmer was touched.
* * *
Elmer was not quite so touched at midnight when he found that he was expected to accompany the expedition to Scrimmage’s.
“But — but it’s against the rules! If we get caught we’ll be punished!”
“Agreed,” said Bruno. “But I never get caught, so punishment is out of the question. Come on, Elm, live dangerously for once in your life!”
“Come on, Elmer,” grinned Boots. “Those are
girls
over there.”
“That’s just it,” said Elmer. “Girls make me extremely nervous. I simply cannot talk to them. My tongue dries up and my throat closes.”
“Well, this is a good time to start learning,” decided Bruno. “Come on, Elmer, it’s for your own good.” He nodded at Boots, and between the two of them they hustled Elmer out the window and dragged him across the campus and the highway. Before he knew it he was climbing the wrought-iron fence and then watching Bruno toss pebbles at the second-storey window.
When Cathy and Diane stuck their heads out, Elmer ducked behind Boots.
“
More
food?” Cathy called in disbelief.
“That too,” said Bruno. “But we have to talk to you. We’re coming up.”
One by one, with much hoarse protesting from Elmer, the three boys shinnied up the drainpipe and were helped in through the window by Cathy and Diane.
Cathy regarded the skinny, crew-cut boy who stood cowering before them. “I see we have a newcomer,” she observed.
“You know Elmer Drimsdale,” said Bruno.
“By reputation.” She grinned. “We haven’t been introduced. Hi, I’m Cathy.”
Elmer made a strangled noise deep in his throat.
“And I’m Diane,” said the blonde girl. When there was no reply she glanced questioningly at Bruno. “Doesn’t he talk?”
“No, I do not,” croaked Elmer.
“He’s a little nervous,” explained Boots. “It’s something to do with his tongue and his throat. We live with Elmer now. The Hall closed down Dormitory 3 and kicked us out of our room.”
“That’s terrible!” exclaimed Cathy. “Uh — I mean — no offence, Elmer.”
“That’s what all the ruckus was about then,” said Diane. “All that running around with beds and everything.”
Boots nodded gravely.
“Now down to business,” said Bruno. “We’re in big trouble.”
“So what else is new?” asked Cathy with a grin.
“No, he doesn’t mean us; he means Macdonald Hall,” said Boots. “The Hall is going bankrupt. We could close up soon. You girls could end up with a slaughterhouse across the road instead of us.”
“What?”
shrieked Cathy.
“No, no,” soothed Elmer, finally regaining his voice. “The zoning bylaws would never permit a slaughterhouse. A large sewage-treatment plant, perhaps. I understand the city is looking for a place to locate one.”
“Oh, no!”
cried Diane, appalled.
“Well,” Elmer added dubiously, “perhaps it will only be a highrise condominium development.”
Cathy and Diane moaned in unison.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Bruno put in. “You’re not getting any of that stuff across the road because we are going to save Macdonald Hall. We’re going to get so much great publicity that enrolment will double and there won’t be any reason to close the school.”
“What’s our job?” asked Cathy.
“We’ll do anything!” Diane put in.
“We need publicity,” said Bruno. “Your job right now is to figure out how we’re going to get it.”
“Tell all the girls,” Boots added. “We need all the suggestions we can get.”
“We’ll be back in a couple of days,” said Bruno, “to hear what you’ve come up with.” Behind him, Elmer groaned. This adventure, he was certain, was enough to fill his lifetime quota of excitement. Having Bruno and Boots as roommates was not going to be easy.
“Now,” said Bruno, “how about some food?”
Diane tiptoed to the door. “Be right back,” she whispered.
True to her word, she was back in less than five minutes, carrying the usual paper bag. “Sandwiches tonight,” she told them. “Part of tomorrow’s lunch.”
“We’d better get going,” Boots suggested anxiously. Bruno took the bag and stuffed it into Boots’s hand. He swung a leg over the window ledge. “Thanks for the grub. Work hard on those suggestions.” He started to shinny down. Boots followed, and Elmer, anxious not to be left alone with the girls, was right behind him. Bruno’s feet hit the ground with a thud.
“Halt!” cried a voice.
Just as Boots slipped to the ground behind Bruno, a beam of light illuminated the two of them.
At the top of the drainpipe, Elmer, frozen with fear, felt hands grasp at his arms. Cathy and Diane hauled him back up over the sill and into the room.