seated
themselves in the lunchroom, Johnny Visco walked slowly up to
them.
“Did I hear right?” he asked with a sneer.
“You won first prize in the art contest?”
Philip swallowed and said, “That’s right. The
paper called and... and then said that.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why don’t you call them? You’ll see. Right,
Emery? Emery!”
“Huh? Yeah. Right. Call.” And then he
moaned.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Toothache,” he murmured.
“Nothing, he’s okay. But the newspaper said
we won. Call them. You’ll see.”
“I will ,” said Johnny Visco and he
walked away.
“There,” Philip whispered, staring at his
sandwich. “He’s going to do it. I told you he got all excited
yesterday when he heard about the paper. He wants to be in
the newspaper. He’ll call.”
“But when he finds out we just made it up,
he’s going to be mad.”
“I know. I know. We want him to be mad. Real
mad. Remember the plan!”
“Ooooh, the plan,” Emery moaned. “We’re going
to get mushed. I know it.”
“Don’t worry. So far so good.”
~ * ~
That afternoon, Philip and Emery stopped off
at Mr. Conway’s house on the way home from school.
“How’d it go?” Mr. Conway asked excitedly as
he led the boys into the living room.
Everyone sat in his usual spot and Philip
said, “We told him we won the contest and were going to be in the
newspaper. And he said he didn’t believe us, so he’s going to call
the newspaper and find out. I hope.”
Mr. Conway laughed and rubbed his hands
together.
“Did you do your stuff?” Emery asked
doubtfully.
“Started. I was upstairs all morning and then
after lunch I tackled the instruction book. I’ll try it out before
we need it, don’t worry. Let me know whether I should make my call
tomorrow. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
Philip nodded and after discussing their plan
a little further, the boys said goodbye to Mr. Conway and went
home.
~ * ~
Philip and Emery were ready the next day,
Wednesday, when Johnny Visco walked over to their lunch table
wearing a satisfied smile.
“You guys think you’re funny. The newspaper
never even heard of you. I told you I’m going to win the art
show contest, and your junk won’t even have a chance.” Then he gave
a mean laugh and walked away.
“My stomach hurts,” Emery moaned.
“It’s okay. He’s gone. I have a quarter.
Finish eating and we’ll go call Mr. Conway.”
~ * ~
Philip and Emery hurried to Mr. Conway’s
house at three o’clock. They listened to the loud chiming of the
doorbell and hurried inside when Mr. Conway opened the door.
“Did you do it?” Philip asked.
“I did. I did.” Mr. Conway lowered himself
into his seat as the boys threw themselves onto the sofa. “Right
after you called, I phoned Johnny boy’s mommy and told her I was
from the News Gleaner . I thanked her for the call the day
before and apologized about the mix-up. I said we’d heard wonderful
things about her boy’s art and wanted to get a photo of it today so
we’d have it in time for next Friday’s edition and could they bring
it over to our office. Then she started babbling about
cupcakes.”
“What’d you tell her?” Philip asked
excitedly.
“I told her the cupcakes were an important
part of the artist’s statement.” He started laughing again but then
stopped. “Cupcakes and M & Ms. Hogwash! Nonsense! Is that art?
Does it make sense?” Now he reached for his cane and banged it on
the floor three times. It didn’t make much noise against the rug.
“Nonsense. Nonsense.”
“Mr. Conway, Mr. Conway,” Philip interrupted
him. “You were telling us about your phone call.”
Mr. Conway gave himself a shake, muttered
“Nonsense,” banged his cane once more, and continued. “She said
she’d start baking and have the cupcakes ready by the time Johnny
boy got home from school.”
“He’s going to kill us,” Emery moaned. “Just
mush us flat.”
Mr. Conway ignored Emery
themselves in the lunchroom, Johnny Visco walked slowly up to
them.
“Did I hear right?” he asked with a sneer.
“You won first prize in the art contest?”
Philip swallowed and said, “That’s right. The
paper called and... and then said that.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why don’t you call them? You’ll see. Right,
Emery? Emery!”
“Huh? Yeah. Right. Call.” And then he
moaned.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Toothache,” he murmured.
“Nothing, he’s okay. But the newspaper said
we won. Call them. You’ll see.”
“I will ,” said Johnny Visco and he
walked away.
“There,” Philip whispered, staring at his
sandwich. “He’s going to do it. I told you he got all excited
yesterday when he heard about the paper. He wants to be in
the newspaper. He’ll call.”
“But when he finds out we just made it up,
he’s going to be mad.”
“I know. I know. We want him to be mad. Real
mad. Remember the plan!”
“Ooooh, the plan,” Emery moaned. “We’re going
to get mushed. I know it.”
“Don’t worry. So far so good.”
~ * ~
That afternoon, Philip and Emery stopped off
at Mr. Conway’s house on the way home from school.
“How’d it go?” Mr. Conway asked excitedly as
he led the boys into the living room.
Everyone sat in his usual spot and Philip
said, “We told him we won the contest and were going to be in the
newspaper. And he said he didn’t believe us, so he’s going to call
the newspaper and find out. I hope.”
Mr. Conway laughed and rubbed his hands
together.
“Did you do your stuff?” Emery asked
doubtfully.
“Started. I was upstairs all morning and then
after lunch I tackled the instruction book. I’ll try it out before
we need it, don’t worry. Let me know whether I should make my call
tomorrow. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
Philip nodded and after discussing their plan
a little further, the boys said goodbye to Mr. Conway and went
home.
~ * ~
Philip and Emery were ready the next day,
Wednesday, when Johnny Visco walked over to their lunch table
wearing a satisfied smile.
“You guys think you’re funny. The newspaper
never even heard of you. I told you I’m going to win the art
show contest, and your junk won’t even have a chance.” Then he gave
a mean laugh and walked away.
“My stomach hurts,” Emery moaned.
“It’s okay. He’s gone. I have a quarter.
Finish eating and we’ll go call Mr. Conway.”
~ * ~
Philip and Emery hurried to Mr. Conway’s
house at three o’clock. They listened to the loud chiming of the
doorbell and hurried inside when Mr. Conway opened the door.
“Did you do it?” Philip asked.
“I did. I did.” Mr. Conway lowered himself
into his seat as the boys threw themselves onto the sofa. “Right
after you called, I phoned Johnny boy’s mommy and told her I was
from the News Gleaner . I thanked her for the call the day
before and apologized about the mix-up. I said we’d heard wonderful
things about her boy’s art and wanted to get a photo of it today so
we’d have it in time for next Friday’s edition and could they bring
it over to our office. Then she started babbling about
cupcakes.”
“What’d you tell her?” Philip asked
excitedly.
“I told her the cupcakes were an important
part of the artist’s statement.” He started laughing again but then
stopped. “Cupcakes and M & Ms. Hogwash! Nonsense! Is that art?
Does it make sense?” Now he reached for his cane and banged it on
the floor three times. It didn’t make much noise against the rug.
“Nonsense. Nonsense.”
“Mr. Conway, Mr. Conway,” Philip interrupted
him. “You were telling us about your phone call.”
Mr. Conway gave himself a shake, muttered
“Nonsense,” banged his cane once more, and continued. “She said
she’d start baking and have the cupcakes ready by the time Johnny
boy got home from school.”
“He’s going to kill us,” Emery moaned. “Just
mush us flat.”
Mr. Conway ignored Emery
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