volunteered from the depths of a banana split.
“You?” asked Mark. “I thought you said zucchini disposal night was the end.”
“This is different,” said Wilbur. “After all I’ve been through over this dumb rec hall, I’m not taking any chances that it’ll come out lousy.”
“Great,” said Bruno. “I think that’s everything —”
At that moment, Elmer Drimsdale hurried over to the table, his face haunted. “Bruno, I just had the strangest encounter. I met Mr. Carson in the hall, and he picked me up and lifted me high into the air, and congratulated me, and said I was the greatest little guy in the world. I told him he was premature, because my bush hamsters haven’t mated yet. And then he laughed, and swung me around, and said he loved my sense of humour.” Elmer looked around the table. His listeners were all doubled over with laughter.
“Now I know what I left out!” Bruno choked. “I forgot to tell Elmer!”
“Oh!” Elmer was incensed. “You think this is funny! It was terrifying! He had me way up in the air!”
Bruno motioned Elmer to a chair. “There are times when a man, for the good of his school, must go along with something that may seem a little weird. The fact is, Elm old pal, everyone thinks you’re the star quarterback of the Macdonald Hall Warriors. You aren’t — don’t worry. But say you are just in case anybody asks.”
“What kind of an explanation was that?” asked Boots in disgust. He turned to Elmer, who seemed dazed. “Look, Cathy from Scrimmage’s is going to play for our team. We can’t say it’s her, so we have to say it’s you. Got it?”
“But why me?” Elmer asked plaintively.
“Because Cathy told everybody she was you. So we’re stuck with it.”
Elmer thought it over. “Am I a good football player?”
“Hey,” said Bruno, “you’re the star of the team.”
“Well, I guess in that case it’s all right.”
Myron Blankenship appeared, Dave a few paces behind him. “Hi, gang. What’s new?”
“Nothing!”
chorused everybody.
Larry pointed to the kitchen. “There’s Hank the Tank reporting for dishwashing duty. I just can’t believe he’s going through this punishment with us. He’s one in a million.”
“Who’s on with him tonight?” asked Dave.
“Boots and me,” said Bruno, picking up his tray. “Come on. Let’s go.”
* * *
“All right!” bawled Coach Flynn at his twenty-seven players. “Who put the teeth marks on the tackling dummy?”
There was no answer, but twenty-six pairs of eyes turned to Calvin Fihzgart.
“It was The Beast!” Calvin growled proudly. “Just a little preview of what I’m going to do once the season starts!”
Flynn looked disgusted. “The object of the game is to
beat
the other team, not
eat
the other team. Behave yourself.”
“Hey, I’m just getting pumped up.”
Everyone was getting pumped up. Cathy Burton was the driving force, wearing number 00, with DRIMSDALE printed across the back. On her nose sat an old pair of Elmer’s horn-rimmed glasses with the lenses popped out. Her long hair was pinned up under her helmet.
Coach Flynn’s opinion was: “They’re the same stumblebums they always were, but with Drimsdale at quarter, at least they’re a team.”
“There’s plenty of time,” said Henry Carson smugly. “You’ll see.”
“How is Cathy going to manage to sneak over here at three-thirty every single day?” Boots mused as he and Bruno watched her fire perfect pass after perfect pass for the receivers’ drills.
Bruno laughed. “She told Miss Scrimmage that she’s taking up bird-watching. She’s supposed to be on the trail of the elusive kilo bird.”
Bruno’s main concern remained keeping Cathy’s identity from Myron Blankenship. So far all was well. Myron was the team kicker and was usually practising away from the rest of the players. And each day, Cathy would leave the field a few minutes ahead of everyone else, which was easily explained.
“You?” asked Mark. “I thought you said zucchini disposal night was the end.”
“This is different,” said Wilbur. “After all I’ve been through over this dumb rec hall, I’m not taking any chances that it’ll come out lousy.”
“Great,” said Bruno. “I think that’s everything —”
At that moment, Elmer Drimsdale hurried over to the table, his face haunted. “Bruno, I just had the strangest encounter. I met Mr. Carson in the hall, and he picked me up and lifted me high into the air, and congratulated me, and said I was the greatest little guy in the world. I told him he was premature, because my bush hamsters haven’t mated yet. And then he laughed, and swung me around, and said he loved my sense of humour.” Elmer looked around the table. His listeners were all doubled over with laughter.
“Now I know what I left out!” Bruno choked. “I forgot to tell Elmer!”
“Oh!” Elmer was incensed. “You think this is funny! It was terrifying! He had me way up in the air!”
Bruno motioned Elmer to a chair. “There are times when a man, for the good of his school, must go along with something that may seem a little weird. The fact is, Elm old pal, everyone thinks you’re the star quarterback of the Macdonald Hall Warriors. You aren’t — don’t worry. But say you are just in case anybody asks.”
“What kind of an explanation was that?” asked Boots in disgust. He turned to Elmer, who seemed dazed. “Look, Cathy from Scrimmage’s is going to play for our team. We can’t say it’s her, so we have to say it’s you. Got it?”
“But why me?” Elmer asked plaintively.
“Because Cathy told everybody she was you. So we’re stuck with it.”
Elmer thought it over. “Am I a good football player?”
“Hey,” said Bruno, “you’re the star of the team.”
“Well, I guess in that case it’s all right.”
Myron Blankenship appeared, Dave a few paces behind him. “Hi, gang. What’s new?”
“Nothing!”
chorused everybody.
Larry pointed to the kitchen. “There’s Hank the Tank reporting for dishwashing duty. I just can’t believe he’s going through this punishment with us. He’s one in a million.”
“Who’s on with him tonight?” asked Dave.
“Boots and me,” said Bruno, picking up his tray. “Come on. Let’s go.”
* * *
“All right!” bawled Coach Flynn at his twenty-seven players. “Who put the teeth marks on the tackling dummy?”
There was no answer, but twenty-six pairs of eyes turned to Calvin Fihzgart.
“It was The Beast!” Calvin growled proudly. “Just a little preview of what I’m going to do once the season starts!”
Flynn looked disgusted. “The object of the game is to
beat
the other team, not
eat
the other team. Behave yourself.”
“Hey, I’m just getting pumped up.”
Everyone was getting pumped up. Cathy Burton was the driving force, wearing number 00, with DRIMSDALE printed across the back. On her nose sat an old pair of Elmer’s horn-rimmed glasses with the lenses popped out. Her long hair was pinned up under her helmet.
Coach Flynn’s opinion was: “They’re the same stumblebums they always were, but with Drimsdale at quarter, at least they’re a team.”
“There’s plenty of time,” said Henry Carson smugly. “You’ll see.”
“How is Cathy going to manage to sneak over here at three-thirty every single day?” Boots mused as he and Bruno watched her fire perfect pass after perfect pass for the receivers’ drills.
Bruno laughed. “She told Miss Scrimmage that she’s taking up bird-watching. She’s supposed to be on the trail of the elusive kilo bird.”
Bruno’s main concern remained keeping Cathy’s identity from Myron Blankenship. So far all was well. Myron was the team kicker and was usually practising away from the rest of the players. And each day, Cathy would leave the field a few minutes ahead of everyone else, which was easily explained.
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