Elmer looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole.
“It’s just — uh — a small — uh — gift —”
“Elmer, you blow me away,” said Boots sincerely.
“What is it?” Bruno prompted. “Candy? A locket?”
“A rodent skull,” replied Elmer. Bruno and Boots gaped. They were silent for so long that Elmer’s face fell. “You think it’s a bad present, don’t you?”
“No!” cried Bruno, racking his brain for a response that wouldn’t hurt Elmer’s feelings. “It’s just that, well — uh — maybe she’s already got one.”
“Oh, that’s unlikely,” said Elmer. “This particular skull is the species Ondatra cephalus which is quite rare in North America.”
“Wow,” said Boots in a strangled voice. He, too, didn’t want to hurt Elmer, but the effort to keep a straight face was becoming painful.
“The thing is,” said Bruno carefully, “girls sometimes like presents that are kind of, you know, romantic.”
Elmer nodded. “I was considering sending her a pair of Jamaican cockroaches. But I was worried they’d escape through the air holes in the box. If she received an empty package, she would be perplexed.”
“Not half as perplexed as the people at the post office,” said Boots, biting his tongue to keep from laughing out loud.
Bruno was determined to get through to his friend. “Maybe you’d be better off with something along the lines of — well, let’s say flowers.”
“Oh, no,” said Elmer seriously. “Remember, Marylou is a fellow scientist. She wouldn’t be interested in frivolous presents.”
“I guess,” said Bruno dubiously. “And when she sees the name Elmer Drimsdale —”
“Oh, I didn’t sign the note,” Elmer interrupted. “She doesn’t know my name.”
“Then how will she know who to — uh, thank?” asked Boots.
“I signed my number from the Summer Science Fair,” said Elmer. “That’s how she’d remember me.” He looked around nervously. “I’ve got to hurry, or I’ll miss the mail pickup.”
Bruno and Boots were silent as he scampered away. By unspoken agreement, they ducked into the Faculty Building washroom, and burst into howls of laughter, leaning on each other for support.
* * *
“Dear Mom,” read Diane. “How are you? I am fine. School is great.” She looked up. “What else is there to say?”
Cathy lay on her bed, tossing a football into the air and catching it with sure hands. “How about ‘Bruno tried to strangle Boots’s kid brother.’”
Diane laughed. “I wish I could put that. It would make a more interesting letter.”
“Edward’s a cute little guy,” Cathy reflected. “A bit on the crazy side —”
A sudden scream echoed through the hallway. In a flash, Cathy and Diane were out their door and down the hall to the source of the cry. They found Marylou Beakman in her corner room, staring into an open box.
“What’s wrong?” Cathy demanded.
Marylou was backing away from the box, pointing. “It — it came in today’s mail!”
Cathy and Diane leaned over to take a look. There, packaged in bubble wrap, was a small bleached skull. “Cool!” said Cathy. “A voodoo curse!”
Marylou screamed again.
Diane made a face. “It looks like some small animal.”
“But who would send it?” quavered Marylou. “And why would they send it to me?”
Miss Scrimmage burst into the room. “Now, now, what’s the disturbance?”
Cathy pointed to the box. “Somebody put a curse on Marylou.”
The Headmistress smiled tolerantly. “You girls have such vivid imaginations. Of course, you know there is no such thing as —” She caught sight of the skull and went deathly pale. “What — what —?”
Cathy and Diane eased her into the chair and began fanning her with a pillowcase.
“Oh, thank you, girls!” breathed Miss Scrimmage. “I’m fine. Now, Catherine — Diane — please leave us so that Marylou and I can have a little chat.”
Reluctantly, Cathy and Diane left the room, shutting the door behind them.
Miss Scrimmage turned to Marylou. “Now, dear, tell me what you know of this.”
“It came in today’s mail,” the distressed girl explained. “It’s so creepy!”
Bravely, like she was putting her hands into piranha-infested waters, Miss Scrimmage rifled through the box and pulled out a note.
Dear Marylou,
I know you, of all people, will appreciate this.
#57
“Aha!” said Miss Scrimmage in triumph. “The culprit was foolish enough to leave us a big, fat clue to his identity!”
“Fifty-seven?” repeated Marylou in confusion.
“Now, you must mention this to no one,” instructed Miss Scrimmage, examining the wrapping for a return address. “I don’t want the girls to become alarmed —” All at once, she sucked in her breath in a gasp. The package was from Macdonald Hall.
Chapter 4
Tyrannosaurus Rex
Mr. Sturgeon entered his cottage and dropped his cane into an umbrella stand near the door.
“Mildred!” he called.
“I’m in the kitchen, dear. Would you like some tea?”
The Headmaster limped through the swinging door and joined his wife at the table. “Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you now,” he mused, biting into a tea biscuit. “I ought to wait until you are trying to convince me, for the umpteenth time, that Miss Scrimmage is not as crazy as a bedbug. Then I could pull out this trump card and settle the issue once and for all.”
Mrs. Sturgeon poured his tea. “William, whatever are you talking about?”
“I took a call from Miss Scrimmage late this afternoon,” said the Headmaster. “She claims that a Macdonald Hall student has placed a voodoo curse on one of her young ladies.”
His wife gawked. “Surely she’s joking, William! Or it’s revenge for the dreadful way you treated her last week.”
“I thought so, too, Mildred. And I attempted to dismiss her in my usual way. But she is adamant. And now I find myself in the bizarre position of searching for a witch doctor.”
“Just how are you expected to do that?” his wife inquired.
“With her big clue, obviously. She says the culprit signed his note with the number fifty-seven. I explained that our student numbers have four digits, and she threatened to sue me for obstruction of justice. Have you ever heard the like?”
Mrs. Sturgeon chuckled. “Well, you must admit your life isn’t a ‘no-brainer’ anymore. This is the challenge you wanted.”
“It isn’t a challenge,” her husband countered. “This is lunacy from Miss Scrimmage. It happens every year.”
“Well, what about those strange events going on at our school?” she persisted. “Your usual jokers, Bruno and Melvin, have nothing to do with them.”
“So they say,” said Mr. Sturgeon cynically. “I wonder if I’m not being a little gullible to trust their word.”
* * *
“Sorry I’m late, Coach,” puffed Boots, who had run all the way across the campus to the pool building.
Coach Flynn frowned at him. “If you want to stay on the swim team, O’Neal, remember that practice starts on the dot.”
“Sorry,” Boots said again. “My mom called, and she talked my ear off about my kid brother, Edward.”
“Did you tell her how weird he is?” asked Pete Anderson, tying the string of his bathing suit.
Boots opened his locker. “She knows that. She’s his mother, after all.” He groaned. “She wants me to make sure the little monster’s doing okay in his classes. Just what I needed — a part-time job as a nanny!”
“What a strange dude!” put in Sidney. “The word around our dorm is he’s constantly sneaking in and out in the middle of the night.”
Boots held his head. “Oh, great. My brother, the juvenile delinquent.”
“Kind of like you and Bruno your f
irst year here,” observed Pete.
The coach clapped his hands. “All right, let’s go, men.” He led the team out into the pool area.
Boots stepped into his suit and scrambled after his teammates. He was a dozen strides from the edge of the pool when the others began to jump in. He sprinted across the tile apron — and froze —
The other swimmers hit the water, touched bottom, sprang up again and broke the surface — bright blue!
“What the —?” bellowed Coach Flynn.
“What’s wrong?” asked Sidney, flipping the wet hair out of his eyes. He caught sight of his hand. “I’m blue!”
Boots hung back in dismay. What was going on here? Something in the water was turning skin blue!
“Everybody out of the pool!” bellowed Flynn.
There was much splashing and shouting as seven blue bodies heaved themselves up over the side.
* * *
Bruno strolled across the campus on his way to meet Boots at the pool building. Bruno himself didn’t know how to swim, but he always liked to watch the team work out.
He was just going up the walk when the door burst open, and out paraded the Macdonald Hall swim team, in all their baby-blue glory. Their lips were purple; their hair ranged from turquoise to deep indigo. Pete, who was the blondest of them, sported bright-green curls.
Bruno gaped. “What happened?”
“As if you don’t know!” seethed Sidney.
The group stomped past, eyes shooting sparks.
“Big joke!”
“I’ll get you for this!”
“When are you idiots going to grow up?”
Pete was bringing up the rear. “This time you’ve gone too far! How about remembering who your friends are?”
Speechless, Bruno watched them storm off. Then he turned and ran into the building. Boots and Coach Flynn were the only ones in the pool area.
“This may sound stupid,” said Bruno, “but I just saw a whole bunch of really crabby blue people!”
Flynn glared at him. “Walton. I should have guessed you’d turn up here to have a look at your handiwork. Well, I’m going to report this.”
“But, sir,” protested Boots, “we didn’t do it!”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” cried the coach. “Everybody jumped in — except you! You knew there was blue dye in the water!” He pointed at Bruno. “And guess who’s the first spectator that happens to drop in? Well, this wasn’t funny!” He marched into the locker room, fuming.
Bruno knelt and dipped his fingertip into the water. It came out blue. “Pretty good joke,” he admitted grudgingly.
“This is getting serious,” said Boots in alarm. “All those gags we pulled over the years are coming back to haunt us. If an ant sneezes on the east lawn, everybody comes straight to us! Even our best friends think we’re guilty, Bruno … Bruno?”
Bruno was bent over the diving board, examining something with great interest. “Come here, Boots. Take a look at this.”
Boots joined him. There on the springboard sat a neat brown feather. He shrugged. “So?”
“So did we or did we not find one of these in the kitchen the day the dishwasher overflowed?”
“We did!” Boots breathed. “What could it mean?”
Bruno put the feather in his shirt pocket. “I have a theory.”
* * *
Bruno and Boots rushed past the dormitories to the Faculty Building and the statue of Sir John A. Macdonald out in front of it.
“It’s been over a week,” Boots panted. “It could have blown away or been chopped up by the lawnmowers. Maybe it was never there at all.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” said Bruno. He dropped down to all fours and began to comb the grass with his fingers. Boots did the same.
They searched diligently, going through the lawn almost blade by blade.
“Paydirt!” exclaimed Bruno suddenly.
Boots scrambled over. Tangled in the untrimmed grass around some bushes a few metres from the statue was a small brown feather.
Bruno pulled the pool feather from his pocket and held it up against the new finding.
“Perfect match,” Boots commented.
Bruno nodded. “There’s no doubt in my mind that this was left here when the scuba suit went on Sir John A. It’s a calling card.”
Boots looked blank. “What are you talking about? Whose calling card?”
“The guy who rigged the scuba suit and the dishwasher and the pool.” He regarded the matched feathers in his hand. “Face it, Boots — we’ve got a phantom practical joker on the loose at Macdonald Hall!”
* * *
Miss Scrimmage stood on the stage in the school gym and looked out over the assembled student body. “Now, girls, I don’t want to alarm anybody, but I think it’s time we had a discussion about” — she shuddered at the mere thought — “security.”
There was an uneasy murmur, and the Headmistress held up her hands for quiet. “Macdonald Hall students have been involved in unsavoury incidents tormenting us — that is nothing new. But now one of our young ladies has received a threatening package from one of those marauders across the road — it is too horrible for me to mention —” She uncorked a vial of smelling salts and inhaled deeply.
“But Miss Scrimmage,” called out Cathy from the fourth row. “You’ve always done such a great job protecting us with your shotgun! We feel totally safe!” A chorus of cheers backed up her statement.
“Thank you, Catherine — girls,” said Miss Scrimmage, a little choked up from this show of support. “However, I feel that I can no longer shoulder the burden alone. That is why I’ve called you here today — to introduce you to our new watchdog, Rex.”
“Great,” whispered Cathy. “We’re getting a puppy.”
Diane was nervous. “Cathy, when you need a dog for security, I don’t think they sell you a cute, cuddly one.”
“Aw, come on,” grinned Cathy. “Knowing Miss Scrimmage, she probably bought an attack poodle.” A fit of giggles was interrupted by a bark that was more of a roar. An enormous animal bounded onto the stage, dragging Miss Smedley, the gym teacher, on the end of a leather leash. There was a gasp from the student body.
“Please welcome our new little helper,” beamed the Headmistress, in spite of the fact that the black Doberman stood nearly as tall as she did. “One look at Rex, and the boys of Macdonald Hall should, as they say, run a mile.”
“One look at Rex and an M-1 tank would run a mile,” breathed Diane in terror.
“Oh, don’t be such a wimp,” laughed Cathy. “I grew up with big dogs. Their bark is worse than their bite. Watch this!” She put her forefingers in her mouth and emitted a sharp whistle.
Rex’s pointy ears perked up like a radar. His lean, black body tensed, then sprang, sending Miss Smedley flying. She had to let go of the leash to avoid being pulled off the stage.
There were screams as Rex hurled himself over the first three rows in a single leap and landed with his front paws on Cathy’s knees. Teeth bared, he held that pose, ready to pounce.
Miss Scrimmage pulled a small whistle from the pocket of her skirt and blew. Obediently, Rex trotted back up the steps to the stage. He looked defiantly out at the crowd, snarling.
Slowly, Cathy allowed herself to start breathing again. Diane removed her iron grip on her roommate’s arm.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” declared the Headmistress, pleased. “Thank you, Catherine, for assisting with that demonstration. Now, Miss Smedley — Miss Smedley? Girls, would someone please help Miss Smedley?”
The gym teacher was still sprawled out on the steps, her face frozen in terror.
“Cathy, are you okay?” whispered Diane as the front row set about reviving Miss Smedley.
“Now I know why his name is Rex,” said Cathy in awe. “It’s shortened — from Tyrannosaurus!”
Chapter 5
The Prime Suspects
“So wherever this guy plays a gag he leaves a feather?”
It was nine o’clock, but Boots couldn’t concentrate on his homework. The phantom practical joker was on his mind.
“It’s like a trademark,” said Bruno. “In the movies, all the master criminals leave a card or a glove at the scene of the crime. I saw one flick where this safecracker put live toads in the vault after cleaning out the money.”
Boots groaned. “Bruno, putting a scuba suit on a statue hardly makes a guy a master criminal.”
“But it works the same way,” Bruno insisted. “Whether it’s live toads or feathers, it’s like a signature. The criminal is daring the cops to catch him. Or, with our phantom, daring The Fish.”
“Yeah, but the only suspects The Fish has are us,” Boots complained. “We’re the ones who get called to the office every time the Phantom pulls something.” He slammed his math book shut. “After all the stuff we’ve gotten away with, do you realize that we might get suspended for something that’s not even our fault?”
Bruno threw himself backward onto his bed. “I thought of that,” he said slowly. “And there’s only one thing to do.”
“Change schools?” Boots asked miserably.
“We’re going to catch the Phantom ourselves and bring him to justice,” Bruno announced.
Boots goggled. “Catch him? Are you out of your mind?”
Bruno rolled his eyes. “Well, Melvin, our only other choice is to sit on our butts and take the heat for what the Phantom does.”
“Oh, shut up!” Boots said in disgust. “I’d love to stop this kid just as much as you. The problem is we don’t know who he is.”
“Think,” Bruno said with determination. “Who would be capable of pulling all this Phantom stuff?” He added, “Besides us, I mean.”
The two boys sat in silence, racking their brains. All at once, they both leapt to their feet.
“Edward!” they chorused.
“Of course!” said Boots breathlessly. “He wants to show us up!”
“And he’s been sneaking out at night!” added Bruno.
“He says we’re over the hill old men and he’s the new generation,” Boots went on. “He thinks he’s replacing us by out joking us.”
Bruno punched his fist in the air. “Let’s go kill him.”
The Joke's on Us Page 3