This Can't Be Happening at MacDonald Hall!

by Gordon Korman

  “As a matter of fact, I got eighty-nine percent,” Boots replied. “And may I remind you that nobody calls me Melvin. You are nobody.”

  Although a reunion with Bruno was impossible, Boots had made up his mind that under no circumstances was he going to stay with George. Bruno was the lucky one. Elmer might be dull and creepy, but George was absolutely unbearable. He was mean and snobbish and spoiled — and Boots couldn’t take it any more.

  When George fell asleep, Boots made his usual exit through the window. The moon was in thin clouds and the deserted campus had an eerie look. He knew it was foolish, but as he dashed across the lawn towards the meeting place, Boots could not shake the feeling that something awful was about to happen.

  He and Bruno arrived at the cannon at the same time. Without a word Boots dropped to the grass and sat with his head in his hands — the picture of hopelessness.

  “Don’t give up so easily,” said Bruno. “I’m not out of ideas yet. How about this: we write our mothers and have them demand that we be put back together for medical reasons?”

  “What medical reasons?” asked Boots with a frown.

  “Well … emotional reasons, then,” said Bruno.

  “No. The Fish would be sure to tell our parents what we’ve been doing,” Boots protested. “That’s all we need. I don’t know about your folks, but mine would kill me!”

  “Okay … so what say we go on a hunger strike?”

  Boots had to laugh. “You wouldn’t last an hour. Let’s face it, Bruno. We’ve got to come up with something that will really work.”

  They lapsed into gloomy silence. In the distance a dog howled mournfully, and the moon slipped behind a small cloud, cloaking them in darkness.

  “What’d you say?” asked Boots, breaking out of his reverie.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yes, you did. Somebody did.”

  “It was probably just that dog,” muttered Bruno.

  “That was no dog,” Boots insisted. “Listen!” Both boys held their breath and strained to hear the sound.

  “There it is again,” Boots whispered.

  “I heard it that time too,” Bruno agreed. Suddenly he jumped to his feet. “It said ‘Help.’”

  “But where’s it coming from?” asked Boots.

  With a puzzled look Bruno jerked his thumb straight up.

  “Great!” Boots sighed. “Now we’ve got little green men in distress.”

  “Either that or it’s an SOS from the Goodyear blimp,” added Bruno.

  For an instant the moon escaped from behind the cloud to reveal an incredible sight: a huge silvery disc hovered over one of the trees. Glinting in the moonlight, a cable stretched beneath it, attached to a dark rectangle swinging in the branches.

  The two raced towards the tree. Suddenly Boots stopped in mid-stride. “Wait a minute,” he cried. “Why are we running this way? We have no idea what that thing is! Shouldn’t we be going in the opposite direction?”

  Bruno skidded to a halt. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, squinting towards the tree.

  Just then the plaintive cry came again. As the boys peered into the darkness, the clouds parted one more time, flooding the scene with moonlight. The dark rectangle turned out to be a basket. Every few seconds a head appeared over the edge of it and a tired voice called for help.

  “It’s a basket!” gasped Bruno. “Attached to a balloon! And it’s snagged in the tree!”

  In no time Bruno and Boots were shinnying up the tree like monkeys. But despite their best efforts, they could not reach the basket, which was swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

  “Hello in there!” shouted Bruno.

  The head popped up. “Help!” it cried. “Can you get me down from here?”

  “Just hold on,” Bruno replied. “We’ll have you out in no time.” To Boots he added in a lower voice, “Don’t let that thing come unsnagged till I get back.” With that he slithered to the ground and tore off in the direction of the gym.

  Boots was left open-mouthed in the tree, holding a branch with one hand and vainly trying to reach up to the basket with the other. Although watching the dangling object made him dizzy, he deliberately kept his eyes glued to it — at least it kept him from looking at the ground so far below.

  “Who are you?” he called.

  “Francisco,” replied a voice in an accent that Boots could not place. “Please get me down!”

  “Don’t worry about a thing,” gulped Boots. “Bruno’s gone for help.”

  At that moment Bruno was squeezing through the window of the locked gym. He hurried to the equipment room and grabbed a volleyball net, then started back to the tree. “Boots?” he called, peering up into the dark branches. “Are you there?”

  “Where else?” a shaky voice replied. “Will you get up here!”

  Bruno clambered up with the net and soon joined Boots on the dangerously creaking branch. “I’m going to throw you a net,” he called to the boy. “Tie it up somewhere and you can use it as a rope ladder to climb down to us. Okay?”

  “Okay … I’m ready,” called the boy.

  Bruno held one end of the net and heaved the rest up towards the basket. After a couple of tries the boy caught it and tied it to the cable. “What shall I do now?” he called.

  “Start climbing down to us. Easy does it. Nice and slow.”

  Bruno and Boots kept the net taut and watched anxiously as the boy, who was smaller than either of them, crawled over the edge of the basket and started to climb down. Soon all three were standing on the same creaking branch. “Let’s get down out of here!” Boots entreated.

  They let go of the net and helped Francisco climb to the ground. Just as Bruno dropped to the grass, a sudden gust of wind tore the balloon from the tree and sent it bobbing off into the night, the volleyball net trailing crazily behind.

  “Oh no!” groaned Bruno. “That’s the third net I’ve lost this year! Coach Flynn will kill me!”

  “I shall gladly pay for another,” said the boy earnestly. “Without you and your net, I would still be up there.”

  “This is Francisco,” said Boots to Bruno.

  “Hi,” said Bruno. “Where the heck did you come from?”

  Puzzled, Francisco pointed straight up.

  “No, I mean originally. Where did the balloon come from?”

  “Ottawa,” the boy replied. “I live there. My father opened a fair this morning,” he explained “and they had that balloon for people to go up in. I thought it would be fun. But when it was my turn for a ride, the winch broke and the balloon went sailing away — and took me with it!”

  “Wow!” said Boots. “Fantastic!”

  “No, it was not,” mourned Francisco. “It was horrible! It was very windy and soon I was lost in the fog and clouds. No one could see me.” He looked pathetically at the two boys. “I thought I would never get down,” he added. “And I am very hungry.”

  “We’d better take him to The Fish and get some food into him,” said Bruno.

  “We can’t go to The Fish’s house again,” Boots protested.

  “We have no choice,” Bruno pointed out. “Come on, Francisco. We’re going to take you to The Fish.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Our Headmaster,” Bruno explained. “This is a school.”

  The three boys sprinted across the campus towards the Headmaster’s cottage. “I don’t know, Bruno,” Boots whispered as they neared it. “The house is dark. We’ll have to wake him up. He’ll go bananas if he finds us roaming around together in the dead of night!”

  “Don’t be an idiot!” Bruno snapped. “This kid took off in a runaway balloon hours ago and hasn’t been seen since. Half the country must be looking for him. Besides, if we wait until morning he could starve to death!” He reached out and rang the bell three times.

  They waited. Bruno rang again. Finally the door opened to reveal a bewildered looking Mr. Sturgeon in a red silk bathrobe.

  “We have to se
e you, sir. It’s an emergency,” Bruno blurted, inviting himself in. Boots and Francisco followed.

  Mr. Sturgeon stood dumbfounded. After a moment he led them into the kitchen where he checked the clock. “If this is some sort of prank,” he said angrily, “I do not find it amusing. Lights-out was long ago, and here you two are ringing my doorbell — together! — looking like a pair of ruffians and dragging along an accomplice. There had better be a good explanation for all this.”

  Bruno and Boots both started babbling at the same time. All Mr. Sturgeon could make out was “balloon … rescue … tree … volleyball net … Francisco …” But, incredibly, he seemed to understand. “Francisco,” he repeated. “Are you Francisco Diaz?”

  “Yes, sir,” said the boy. “And you are The Fish?”

  There was an awful silence. Mr. Sturgeon smiled thinly. “Yes,” he replied, “I imagine I am.” He glared at Bruno and Boots, then turned back to Francisco. “The report of the runaway balloon has been on the news all day. Do you mean to tell me that it landed here? At Macdonald Hall?”

  “No, sir. It did not land at all,” said Francisco. “It got caught in a tree and I could not get down. I kept calling for help and these boys heard. They got a net and helped me to climb down. They are very great heroes.”

  At that point Mrs. Sturgeon came tip-toeing down the stairs. “What is it, dear?”

  “It’s Francisco Diaz, the ambassador’s son who was lost in a balloon this morning,” said Mr. Sturgeon excitedly. He saw his wife gaze questioningly at Bruno and Boots. “These two nice boys of yours seem to have rescued him,” he added.

  “Goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Sturgeon. “You’d better call the police at once to let them know he’s safe.” Mr. Sturgeon went off to the telephone. “Now,” she continued, “let’s have some cookies and milk and you can tell me all about it.”

  After munching several cookies and gulping down his milk, Francisco launched into an account of his great adventure. Mr. Sturgeon returned and listened as intently as the rest.

  “Oh, you poor child,” Mrs. Sturgeon said at the end of Francisco’s story. “Here, have some more milk.”

  Just then the telephone rang. “That will probably be your father,” said Mr. Sturgeon as he went to answer it. He spoke briefly, then called Francisco to the phone. The boy took it and began to speak rapidly in a foreign language.

  Boots raised one eyebrow. “Spanish? Or Portuguese?”

  Bruno shrugged. “It’s all Greek to me. Boy, if his father really is an ambassador or something in Ottawa, maybe we’ll get a reward.”

  “Maybe we won’t get expelled,” Boots countered. “That would be reward enough for me.”

  Francisco returned from the telephone. “My father is very grateful to you … and very worried about me,” he said. “He asks if you will be kind enough to put me up for the night. He and his staff will be here in the morning. He would like to talk with you again.”

  “Of course,” said Mr. Sturgeon, returning to the phone.

  While Mrs. Sturgeon fussed over Francisco, Bruno and Boots finished off the remaining cookies. A few minutes later Mr. Sturgeon reappeared and motioned the boys towards the door. “We will discuss your nocturnal escapades tomorrow,” he said quietly.

  Suddenly there was a tremendous crash on the front porch, followed by hysterical yelling and heavy pounding on the door. The Headmaster looked accusingly at Bruno and Boots. “What else have you done tonight?” he groaned as he opened the front door.

  In flopped Elmer Drimsdale, clad only in pyjamas. He was clutching his telescope and tripod and screaming at the top of his voice. “Aliens! A UFO! It landed right here! I saw it through my telescope!”

  Boots grunted as Bruno elbowed him in the ribs. Elmer Drimsdale in action was high comedy. Mr. Sturgeon took a deep breath and tried to speak.

  “The way I see it,” Elmer babbled on, “they probably have contacts here and this is a prearranged landing site.” Then his eyes fell on Bruno and Boots. “Aha! You!”

  “Yup,” Bruno confessed. “We were the ones who met it — and there’s the spaceman.” He pointed towards Francisco, who was standing on the stairs with Mrs. Sturgeon.

  Elmer stared at Francisco. “Amazing! He looks so human!” He approached the boy. “What did you do with your spacecraft?” he demanded. “I went to the landing site and couldn’t find a trace of it.”

  “Who is this person?” asked Francisco nervously.

  “The ship’s gone,” said Boots mournfully. “It vanished into outer space — and took our volleyball net with it.”

  “This is no time for jokes,” Elmer sputtered. “There’s a UFO around here somewhere. We’ve got to find it!”

  “Elmer …” Mr. Sturgeon broke in.

  But Elmer raved on. “Do you realize what this means to science?” he shrieked. “I could get a Nobel Prize!”

  “Drimsdale!” Mr. Sturgeon exploded. “Listen to me!” But before he could get his hands on the excited boy, Elmer had darted out the door in search of the UFO and everlasting fame.

  Chapter 13

  Scrimmage’s to the Rescue

  “We’ve got to stop him before he starts a panic!” cried Mr. Sturgeon. “Quick, boys, after him!”

  Without bothering to reply, the boys took off — with the Headmaster right behind them.

  “Where do you suppose he’ll go?” Boots puffed.

  “Let’s check the tree,” Bruno replied. They changed direction and ran towards the cannon, while Mr. Sturgeon pounded past them.

  Meanwhile Elmer was steaming along towards Dormitory 2. “Aliens!” he screamed. “Visitors from another planet!”

  Lights flicked on in various windows. Pyjama-clad figures, chattering wildly, began to pour out of the dormitories.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Invaders from outer space!”

  “They’re coming to get us!”

  “Who?”

  “We’ve had it! We’re doomed!”

  “They’ve got Elmer Drimsdale!”

  “They can have him!”

  Inside, Elmer was frantically grabbing scientific equipment to study the alien craft. He ran outside and was momentarily astonished to find a huge crowd of boys milling around in wild confusion. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Earth is being invaded!” someone replied. “Aliens!”

  “I knew it! I knew it!” Elmer exclaimed. “I wasn’t wrong!” He ran off, still yelling, into the night.

  By this time, Bruno and Boots had made a thorough search of the thicket behind the cannon. Elmer was nowhere to be found. “You’re his roommate,” said Boots. “What would he do now?”

  “Let’s see if he went back to the dorm.”

  They ran across the campus and rounded the corner of the Faculty Building. All three dormitories were ablaze with lights and the entire student body was engaged in a full-scale panic.

  “What the heck …!” exclaimed Boots.

  Bruno grabbed the nearest boy to him. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  Perry Elbert glared accusingly at him. “As if you didn’t know!”

  “Aliens!”

  “UFO’s!”

  “Invaders from outer space!” the boys shouted.

  Boots tugged at Bruno’s arm. “We’ve got to put a stop to this!” he said urgently.

  “I never stopped a riot in my life,” protested Bruno. “I start them.”

  “We’re in enough trouble! And we’ve got to find —” Boots never finished his sentence.

  “Who is going to defend Macdonald Hall?” Bruno shouted in a voice that carried from one end of the campus to the other. “And who will protect those innocent girls across the road?”

  At that moment Miss Scrimmage’s P.A. system crackled: Calling all girls! Calling all girls! This is Planetary Defence! You are needed in Earths darkest hour! Macdonald Hall is being invaded by aliens!

  Boots groaned in despair and hid his face in his hands. It was Cathy’s voice. The
n he looked up and groaned again. Pink nighties, bristling with softball bats and field-hockey sticks, were streaming across the road.

  Halfway up a tree Bruno appeared, howling, “To the gym, men! Arm yourselves!”

  Boots watched in mounting anxiety as suddenly Miss Scrimmage burst out onto her balcony, screaming and waving her shotgun. At almost the same moment Mr. Sturgeon, his red bathrobe flapping in the breeze, rushed onto the mad scene. “Don’t!” he cried. “Miss Scrimmage! Don’t!” His shout only startled her. BOOM! BOOM! She fired into the air.

  Out of the dark sky plunged the basket which had carried Francisco Diaz — its side sporting a hole exactly matching the one in Miss Scrimmage’s sign. As it plummeted to earth it struck a shadowy figure standing by the side of the road. Mr. Sturgeon ran over and heaved the basket off the victim. It was Elmer Drimsdale, out cold.

  “They’ve landed!”

  “They’ve killed Elmer Drimsdale!”

  “Quit poking me with that stupid bat! I’m not an alien!”

  “Teddy bears on your pyjamas, Howard?”

  “Shut up!”

  “What’s going on?”

  Bruno and Boots were the next to arrive at Elmer’s side. Bruno dropped to his knees. “Elmer! Elmer, speak to me!” His roommate didn’t move.

  Suddenly Cathy came tearing across the road with a brimming fire bucket. “This will revive him!” she shouted. Unfortunately she misjudged her aim and the entire bucketful of water sloshed over Mr. Sturgeon’s head! The Headmaster just sat there, dripping and sputtering.

  A few drops of water sprinkled Elmer’s face. His eyelids fluttered and he sat up. “Good evening, sir,” he said calmly. “Is it raining?”

  Just then a red mini-bus came tearing up the highway from the direction of the city. Its sides were blazoned with the words UFO Society, and the loudspeakers on the roof were blaring: Attention, aliens. Do not be alarmed. We come in peace.

  The truck screeched to a halt beside the highway and a man leapt out shouting. “Where’s Drimsdale?”

  Elmer suddenly recalled his mission and jumped to his feet. “Here I am. Over here!”

  “We came as quickly as we could,” panted the man. “Where are the aliens?”