“Great,” said Bruno, who shunned early hours whenever he could. “We’re being shot at dawn.”
“I don’t even care anymore,” said Boots in a small voice. “At this point, it’s the waiting that’s killing me.”
A small group had gathered in room 306 after lights-out. Larry, Wilbur, Sidney and Pete sat in the dark with Bruno and Boots. A flashlight illuminated a printed piece of paper. It was the latest betting line from the dining hall:
Suspended: 5 to 1
Expelled: Even money
Let off the Hook: 46 to 1
“Forty-six to one!” mourned Bruno. “Doesn’t anybody think we have a chance?”
“I do,” piped up Pete.
“Really?” asked Boots.
Pete hung his head. “Well — no, not really. I just wanted to make you guys feel better.”
“The thing that kills me,” said Boots, “is that we don’t even know who to be mad at. Is my brother being nice, or is he covering up the fact that he’s the real Phantom? Is Mark guilty, or is he just playing super journalist? And surely Cathy and Diane wouldn’t let us take the fall if they’re the Phantom.” He threw up his arms in despair. “But they have no way of knowing what’s happening to us!”
“Then there’s Marylou Beakman’s boyfriend,” Larry took up the list. “And whoever was wearing the shirt with the crest on it.”
Sidney set his jaw. “One thing we can do for you guys is continue the investigation. And when I get my hands on the real Phantom —”
“What are you going to do?” challenged Wilbur. “Bleed on him?”
Nobody laughed.
“I’m going to get this guy,” said Bruno determinedly, “if it takes me the rest of my life!”
Larry folded his arms in front of him. “I don’t care how sick The Fish is. I’m really mad at him for this. He didn’t have to expel you.”
The word hung in the air in front of them.
Pete broke the silence, his voice a whisper. “It’s going to be pretty lousy at Macdonald Hall without you guys around.”
Larry nodded sadly. “Without Bruno and Boots, Macdonald Hall is just another third-rate school.”
“No way!” cried Bruno emotionally, leaping to his feet. “The Hall is still the best school in the country! I don’t care what happens! Nobody’s going to get away with putting down my school!”
“It’s not going to be your school anymore, Bruno,” Boots reminded him gently.
Bruno sat down gloomily on the edge of his bed, propping his chin up with his palms. “It’ll always be sort of my school,” he said, his voice hoarse.
* * *
In the last two days there had been a lot of talk about expulsion — about how it goes on a permanent record, about how it makes finding a new school difficult, about whose parents were going to kill whom. Stuck alone in their room, Bruno and Boots had discussed all the angles of getting expelled — except one. It was the worst thing by far about leaving Macdonald Hall, but the subject was buried like a terrible family secret.
Both of them thought of it. Each could almost sense it in the back of the other’s mind. But nothing was said until the two boys stood on the steps of the Faculty Building, bleary-eyed and petrified, steeling themselves for the meeting with Mr. Sturgeon that could be their last.
“You know, Bruno,” Boots began bravely. “If we get — you know — sent home, well, you’ll be in your town, I’ll be in mine. I mean, we probably won’t ever see each other again.”
“What are you talking about?” blustered Bruno. “Haven’t you ever heard of visiting?”
“Think,” Boots persisted. “This isn’t summer vacation. We’re getting expelled. Our folks are probably going to think we’re a bad influence on each other. I doubt they’re going to be moving heaven and earth to get us together again.”
Bruno had no answer. “Maybe it won’t be that way.” He looked at his watch. “Seven fifty-eight. A hundred and twenty seconds to zero hour.”
Boots pushed open the heavy door. “Let’s get it over with.”
The outer office was deserted. For a moment, Boots toyed with the idea that Mr. Sturgeon had forgotten the meeting. Then he spotted the cane hanging over the half-open wooden door marked HEADMASTER.
“Good morning, boys,” came a grim voice from inside.
Boots had been expecting the Headmaster’s famous steely grey stare, but what he saw caught him off guard. Seated behind his imposing desk, Mr. Sturgeon looked not furious but sad and tired.
This time Bruno and Boots didn’t take their usual place on the bench. They stood before their Headmaster like marines, hands behind their backs.
Mr. Sturgeon regarded them for what seemed like an eternity. “I want you boys to know that what is about to happen to you is not about any prank or practical joke. It is about character, honesty and the willingness to face up to what you have done.” He sighed. “I am not the doddering old fool you must think I am. I have always been aware of the potential for mischief you boys possess. But because your misadventures came about in the pursuit of school spirit, albeit misguided, I made it a point to look the other way.” He grimaced. “This time, however, I placed my trust in you, and you lied to me. That is no youthful antic. That speaks to character.”
Bruno spoke up. “Sir, I know it looks bad, but we really didn’t do it. We’re not the Phantom —”
“I cannot tell you how disappointed I am that you try to deceive me even now,” the Headmaster interrupted. “That is why I must regretfully inform you” — he took a deep breath and mopped his brow with a handkerchief — “that you are expelled forthwith from Macdonald Hall.”
Both boys flinched as though from a sudden blast of gale-force wind. Here it was, the final judgement. Their deepest fears had come true. They were being thrown out.
Boots looked over at Bruno, waiting for his roommate to protest. Come on, Bruno! Boots tried to will his friend to say something, anything! After all their adventures at Macdonald Hall, they were going down without a fight, slack-jawed and silent in The Fish’s office!
His agonized thoughts were interrupted by a commotion in the outer office. Excited shouts were followed by running footsteps and an enormous crash. The heavy oak door flew open, and in exploded Larry Wilson. His hair was flying, his eyes were wild and he was panting from an all-out sprint through the Faculty Building.
“Mr. Sturgeon! Mr. Sturgeon!”
The Headmaster turned cold, fishy eyes on his office messenger. “When I am in a meeting, I am not to be interrupted. You know that, Wilson.”
Larry was jumping up and down, babbling. “But — but — somebody just set off firecrackers in the waffle mix at breakfast!”
“This can wait —” said Mr. Sturgeon in annoyance.
“But it was right now! Just a minute ago —”
Mr. Sturgeon stood up. “Wilson, that will do —”
“This was in the mix, too!” Larry blurted. He stuck out his fist. Clutched in it, dripping batter, was a brown feather.
“The Phantom!” gasped Bruno.
Boots found his voice at last. “It couldn’t have been us, sir! We were here, sir! Here with you!” He added, “Right, sir?”
The Headmaster gazed long and hard at the dripping feather. “It would seem that you boys have an airtight alibi.”
“We weren’t lying, sir,” Boots said sincerely. “I know we get in trouble a lot, but we wouldn’t do that.”
The Headmaster leaned back and steepled his fingers. “You two must have had a very trying few days,” he commented quietly. “I do apologize for that.”
“Well, I guess we kind of brought it on ourselves, sir,” Bruno admitted. “We looked pretty guilty. I’m not sure I would have believed us.”
“Even so,” said the Headmaster humbly, “I feel terrible about what almost happened. You have the right to know it.”
Boots looked up, his face full of hope. “We’re not expelled, then?”
“You are not,” confirmed Mr. Sturgeon. He n
odded toward Larry, who was shuffling in the doorway. “You are dismissed, Wilson. You may go and fulfil your role as town crier. I’m sure the other boys are awaiting word.”
Larry raced off to spread the good news.
The Headmaster turned back to Bruno and Boots. “Now that I have apologized, there is something more you have to hear. Boys, things are going to change. You are both familiar with the rule book, and you know its pages are not filled with advertising. Three days ago, you were caught on the front lawn, under suspicious circumstances, in the middle of the night. I do not intend to punish you, since I feel you’ve been punished enough. But for your own sake, for my sake, for the sake of Macdonald Hall — observe the curfew!” He glared at them. “You may go.”
The Headmaster of Macdonald Hall maintained his stern expression as Bruno and Boots left the office. It wasn’t until the heavy oak door clicked shut that the grin split his face.
“Yes!” He danced a happy jig, with high kicks. The celebration came to an abrupt end when his sore toe slammed into the desk.
“Yee-owww!!”
Chapter 16
One Lousy Little Broken Wire
“Hey, Mr. Wong! How’s it going? You’re looking sharp! It sure is great to be back in geography class! I hope we didn’t miss too much! Need us to do any extra homework to get caught up? Are you sure — hey, Boots, cut it out! Let go! Hey —”
“Bruno,” Boots whispered as he hauled his roommate bodily to their seats. “Everybody’s staring at us. They’re looking at you like you’ve gone nuts.”
“I don’t care,” Bruno grinned stubbornly. “I’m just too happy about not being expelled to shut up about it.” He leapt to his feet. “Guys, I have an announcement to make. Boots and I aren’t expelled. So we’ll be here from now on.”
There was a burst of applause, and Bruno and Boots accepted backslaps and handshakes.
“I hope no one minds if we do a little geography,” put in Mr. Wong, handing out a stack of printed pamphlets. He paused in front of Bruno and Boots. “It’s good to have you back, Walton — O’Neal.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Bruno appreciatively. He pulled the top two pamphlets from the pile for himself and Boots.
Boots turned his attention to the booklet on his desk. It was entitled “Mineral Deposits Throughout the World.” He stared at the design on the cover, which featured a globe, flattened into an oval. Arranged around it were pictures of molecules. At the very top was an ornate crown. Boots frowned. Mr. Wong had never used these pamphlets before. Why did that picture seem so familiar?
It hit him like a bolt out of the blue — this was the mysterious crest from the shirt on the videotape! The flattened globe had appeared to be an egg in the dim light! The molecules provided the circles and the crown they had recognized right from the start!
“Bruno!” he hissed. “Take a look at this!”
“Yeah? So?” Bruno regarded his pamphlet.
“Don’t you see it?” Boots persisted. “It’s the crest from the video!” Breathlessly, he pointed out the egg, the circles and the crown, tracing the shapes with his pencil.
Bruno’s hand shot up. “Mr. Wong! Mr. Wong!”
The teacher rolled his eyes. “What is it now, Walton?”
Bruno shook his head. “Sir, I just wanted to know — what’s this crest on the cover of the booklet.”
“Oh, that’s the insignia of the Royal Geophysical Society.”
“Thanks.” Bruno sat back in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense. What kind of a creep would wear a T-shirt from a Geophysical Society.”
The answer came to both of them at the same time. Bruno and Boots snapped to attention, looked at each other and chorused, “Elmer Drimsdale!”
* * *
“Elmer is the Phantom?” exclaimed Pete Anderson in disbelief.
“Shhh!” cautioned Bruno, looking around the dining hall to make sure the school genius wasn’t within earshot. “I know it sounds crazy, but who else would have a T-shirt from the Royal Geophysical Society?”
“And think how weird he’s been acting lately,” added Boots. “All this ‘living on the edge’ stuff.”
“Yeah, but the Phantom started out long before Elmer went off his nut,” Larry pointed out.
“Maybe not,” said Bruno. “Don’t forget, Elmer first saw Marylou What’s-her-face at the Summer Science Fair. He was sending her those stupid presents three days into school! What if Elmer cooked up this whole Phantom thing because he thought it would make him seem more glamorous to Marylou?”
Wilbur peered over a towering stack of chili nachos. “So why did he lend us the telescope and videocam if he was the Phantom all along?”
“Because he knew we were watching Scrimmage’s, and not him.” Boots replied readily.
“Here’s the crusher,” said Bruno. “The Phantom’s calling card is a feather, right? Who’s got access to a pile of feathers at Macdonald Hall?” He surveyed their faces around the table. “The same guy who got his hands on bird droppings.”
“Then he made up a fake boyfriend,” said Boots, “so we could suspect him instead of Elmer.”
“I know it’s hard to believe,” added Bruno. “But you can’t argue with the evidence.”
“All that stuff is just coincidence,” frowned Larry. “I think we were right the first time. The Phantom is your brother Edward. He’s got the ability — I mean, he’s rotten enough. He’s got the motive — he wants to show us ‘old men’ who’s in charge. And we know he constantly sneaks out at night. What more proof do we need?”
“You guys are nuts,” grumbled Wilbur, rearranging the jalapenos on a loaded chip. “This Phantom stuff is coming straight from Scrimmage’s. Anybody crazy enough to booby-trap an apple orchard could be the Phantom in her spare time. It’s Cathy and Diane.”
Sidney shook his head. “It’s Mark all the way. You should see him, guys! He’s hardly even a friend anymore. He spends all his time at the newspaper, writing articles about the Phantom. Plus he was right there on the scene when Bruno and Boots got caught at the cannon. Trust me. It’s Mark.”
Pete spoke up. “I think it’s George Wexford-Smyth III.”
Boots rolled his eyes. “He graduated last year.”
“Oh,” said Pete. “Well then, I guess it has to be one of those other guys.”
“We’ll know soon enough,” said Bruno.
“Wait a minute,” said Wilbur, his voice wary. “‘Knowing soon enough’ almost got you guys expelled.”
Bruno smiled brilliantly. “Don’t worry about a thing. I have a plan.”
There were groans all around.
“We can’t find the Phantom,” Bruno explained, “but we can make the Phantom find us.”
“Quit talking in riddles,” growled Wilbur. “Spit it out.”
“We’ll set a trap,” supplied Boots.
Larry was unconvinced. “Using what for bait?”
“What else?” grinned Bruno. “A practical joke — a joke so perfect, no one could resist!”
* * *
Mr. Sturgeon was adjusting the ice pack on his sore toe when his wife raced in.
“William, I told you so!” she cried triumphantly.
The Headmaster stared straight ahead. “I have absolutely no idea what you mean,” he said stubbornly.
“Bruno and Melvin,” she insisted. “I told you they were innocent! I told you they wouldn’t lie!”
Mr. Sturgeon’s features softened. “You cannot imagine how relieved I am,” he admitted. “I was this close to sending for their parents.”
“Macdonald Hall has put those poor boys through torture this week,” Mrs. Sturgeon scolded. “Confined to their room, not knowing whether or not they were going to be expelled — I hope you made them a proper apology!”
The Headmaster nodded. “I tried. But bear in mind, Mildred, that not being the Phantom doesn’t excuse them for their rampage of rule-breaking. As remorseful as I was feeling, I could not exactly bring myself to give
them a medal.”
“Well, thank heaven nothing terrible happened.” She moved behind his chair and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry, William. I’ve been so concerned about those poor boys that I never considered how hard this must have been on you.”
“It’s all in a day’s work, Mildred,” her husband sighed. “I enjoy the celebrations but I carry the burdens as well.”
Mrs. Sturgeon patted him comfortingly. “Well, it won’t be for much longer,” she reassured him.
He turned to look at her. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Why, William — you’re retiring at the end of this year.”
The Headmaster straightened up in his chair. “I most certainly am not!”
She looked bewildered. “But you said —”
“This institution needs me more now that it ever did,” Mr. Sturgeon declared stoutly. “A crazed practical joker wreaks havoc on my campus! That deranged woman across the street is installing a security system with everything but antiaircraft guns — no doubt our students will soon be caught up in it! Two innocent boys came perilously close to being expelled! Can’t you see it, Mildred? I am the only anchor of sanity in the rough seas of chaos!” He glanced at his watch. “Even as we speak, I’m late for a staff meeting!” He hobbled toward the door, hopping into his sock and muttering under his breath, “Retirement! That’ll be the day!”
If he had bothered to turn around, he would have seen that his wife was smiling.
* * *
Diane flipped helplessly through the SectorWatch Fortress Ultra-Deluxe technical manual. “Cathy, I really don’t see what you expect me to do.”
Cathy paced the room, snapping a pencil into halves and quarters. “Do something! Anything! The security system goes on in two minutes and we’ll be trapped like rats in here! We can’t get out — the guys can’t get in — we’ll have to follow the rules!”
“I wonder what that’s like,” Diane mused.
“Trust me. It stinks!” snapped Cathy. “We can’t let SectorWatch turn on the system. We’ve got to stop it — dismantle it — bust it — kill it!”
“It’s impossible,” argued Diane. “You have to be an engineer to understand this manual. Hey — where are you going?”
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