Philip Gets Even (9781597050807) by John Paulits Page A

Philip. “Maybe not.” And he
started to think very hard.
    ~ * ~
    “So how did it work? Is the heat off? Did my
call work? Did little Johnny boy get into trouble with the
principal? Heh, heh. I got him good, I’ll bet, didn’t I?”
    Mr. Conway had started talking the moment he
opened his front door.
    “That ought to teach him to mess with us.
I’ll old buzzard him. You just let me know the next time...”
    “Mr. Conway, Mr. Conway.” Philip held up his
hand. “Your phone call only got us lectured to by the principal and
the art teacher. And after that Johnny Visco threatened to get us
suspended again and said he’d make sure this time it was our art
that didn’t win the contest.”
    “Oh, didn’t work, eh?” was all Mr. Conway
said.
    “No,” said Emery louder than he needed. “You
got some other plan we can use?”
    Mr. Conway scratched his head. Then he
scratched his neck. Then he scratched his head again.
    “Nope.”
    “Maybe I do,” said Philip.
    Emery looked at him. “ You do?”
    Philip nodded. “I think so. But both of you
got to help.”
    Emery muttered, “Oh, no,” and Mr. Conway
said, “You bet. You bet. What’s your plan? We’ll teach that fellow
a lesson. Call me an old buzzard, will he? Let’s hear it.”
    So Philip told Mr. Conway about the art show
on Friday and explained what he had in mind.
     
     

 
     
     
     
Ten
    “I don’t think I want to do this,” Emery
moaned next morning on the way to school.
    “Emery, come on. We have to,” Philip
argued.
    “You gave Mr. Conway so much to do. Suppose
he just falls asleep in his chair for a week and doesn’t do
anything.”
    “He’s not going to fall asleep in his chair
for a week.”
    “You gave me too much to do,” said
Emery dismally.
    “You only have to do one thing,” Philip said
in exasperation.
    “It’s such a big thing, though.”
    “Don’t be dumb. Now look around and find
him.”
    The boys stood at one end of the schoolyard
and searched.
    “Come on, let’s walk a little,” said
Philip.
    “We’re going to get mushed. I know it,” Emery
mumbled.
    “Shhh. There he is. Over there. Come on.”
    The two boys walked toward Joey, the sixth
grader who lived near Philip.
    “Hi, Joey. Guess what?” said Philip.
    “What?”
    Emery gave a groan.
    “We’re going to be in the newspaper. The one
for the neighborhood that comes every week. Me and Emery.”
    “ The News Gleaner ? Why?”
    “Our art. The thing Ms. Trinetti’s doing in
the auditorium Friday. We’re going to win first prize, and they’re
going to put the painting and our pictures in the paper.”
    “How do you know? The contest didn’t happen
yet.”
    “The people at the newspaper called my house
and said so. Emery’s, too. Right, Emery? Emery!”
    “Huh? Oh, yeah. Right. In the newspaper.” And
he gave a little moan.
    “You sick or something?” Joey asked him.
    “Stomach ache.”
    Philip glared at his friend.
    “You should’ve stayed home. I always do if
something hurts,” Joey said wisely.
    Emery nodded. “I should’ve.”
    “Well, that’s the news,” said Philip. “First
place and in the newspaper. See you later. Come on, Emery.”
    The boys moved off a short distance.
    “Let’s watch him. And stop moaning. You’re
giving me the creeps.”
    “My stomach really does hurt.”
    “Oh, it does not. Just watch him.”
    The boys kept an eye on Joey amid the running
and playing children. A few minutes before the bell rang, Johnny
Visco sauntered into the schoolyard and Joey walked over to
him.
    “There he goes,” said Emery in a panic.
“Let’s go line up. Let’s go stand near a teacher. Let’s go home.
Come on.”
    Philip’s stomach got jumpy, too, when he saw
Joey talking to Johnny Visco.
    “There’s the bell. Come on,” said Emery. He
grabbed Philip’s arm and pulled him toward their lineup spot.
Philip did not object.
    The boys did not venture out of their
classroom all morning, and a few moments after they