His previous idea of white stuff was fine sand on a sunnybeach. He hopes this winter’s record snowfall melts by Saturday. That’s when the Rounders kick off the season against the Hog City Haymakers. The wall hopes it melts, too. It’s getting tired of Orlando’s “heady” playing style.
“Way to go, Orlando.” I chuckled to myself. One day of school under his belt and he’s already famous.
I tossed aside the paper and stood up. It was time to meet the school bus. I pulled on my coat, said good-bye to my folks, and gave Mr. Bones a scratch behind his floppy ears. Then I headed out into the cold.
The big orange bus pulled into sight just as I got to the stop. I climbed up and took my usual seat next to Gabby, behind Stump and Slingshot.
“Did you know,” I said by way of greeting, “that William Howard Taft was so fat he once got stuck in his bathtub?”
My friends looked at me as if I was speaking in tongues.
“Taft,” I smugly explained. “The twenty-seventh president of the United States.”
CHAPTER 13
T he bus barely managed to squeeze into the lot. Too many tourists crowded the school grounds. They’d ditched their cars by the side of the road and streamed forward on foot. Bundled from head to toe against the cold, hundreds stood gawking at Mount Rambletown. Parents of classmates, office workers who’d detoured past school on their way to their jobs, high school kids cutting class, nurses from the hospital. Most carried cell phones or video cameras. Those who weren’t taking pictures of the snow peak took pictures of one another. Despite the frigid temperature, they all looked happy. Everyone laughedand pointed and clapped. And generally took up too much space.
“Yowza!” exclaimed Gabby. “Do you think they’ll cancel school?”
Our driver leaned on his horn until the crowd parted and a way opened for us. He slowly piloted the bus to the curb and we unloaded.
Principal Gorton stood out front again playing traffic cop. She looked as if she was fending off mosquitoes. Whenever a car packed with sightseers tried to sneak through, she popped a silver whistle into her mouth and gave a sharp blast. She did not look like a happy camper.
“What a circus!” Gasser hooted as we tramped up the front walk between high banks of snow. He turned to take in the crowd. “Man, if we could charge admission, we’d make a mint.”
We all cracked up.
All except Slingshot.
“Hold on now,” he said. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “That’s not abad idea. Not a bad idea at all.”
“What’s not?” Stump laughed. “Getting steamrolled by a crazed mob?”
“I’m seeing a hot chocolate stand,” said Slingshot. “All these people? In this cold? We’d make a fortune!”
We were quiet for a minute as Slingshot’s idea sank in.
“In Florida we used to set up lemonade stands,” ventured Orlando. “I’ve never heard of a hot chocolate stand.”
“Same idea,” said Slingshot. “Different weather.”
“You know, it might just work,” said Gabby. “Seriously. You think Principal Gorton would go for it?”
I glanced over at our intrepid leader. She made a series of hand gestures that looked like kung fu while fiercely tooting her whistle.
I didn’t think she’d go for anything at the moment. Except maybe a big bottle of aspirin.
“Let’s talk to Mr. Swickle,” suggested Stump.“C’mon! What’ve we got to lose?”
We funneled through the snow canyon into school. Without bothering to take off our coats, we surrounded Mr. Swickle and explained our idea.
“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!” Stump pleaded, hopping from foot to foot. He always bounced when he was excited. “When else will we ever have a crowd like this on our doorstep?!”
Mr. Swickle folded his arms across his chest. He was not convinced. Then I had an idea. “It could be a fund-raiser for charity,” I ventured. “You know, a cool cause the whole school can support? Remember
“Way to go, Orlando.” I chuckled to myself. One day of school under his belt and he’s already famous.
I tossed aside the paper and stood up. It was time to meet the school bus. I pulled on my coat, said good-bye to my folks, and gave Mr. Bones a scratch behind his floppy ears. Then I headed out into the cold.
The big orange bus pulled into sight just as I got to the stop. I climbed up and took my usual seat next to Gabby, behind Stump and Slingshot.
“Did you know,” I said by way of greeting, “that William Howard Taft was so fat he once got stuck in his bathtub?”
My friends looked at me as if I was speaking in tongues.
“Taft,” I smugly explained. “The twenty-seventh president of the United States.”
CHAPTER 13
T he bus barely managed to squeeze into the lot. Too many tourists crowded the school grounds. They’d ditched their cars by the side of the road and streamed forward on foot. Bundled from head to toe against the cold, hundreds stood gawking at Mount Rambletown. Parents of classmates, office workers who’d detoured past school on their way to their jobs, high school kids cutting class, nurses from the hospital. Most carried cell phones or video cameras. Those who weren’t taking pictures of the snow peak took pictures of one another. Despite the frigid temperature, they all looked happy. Everyone laughedand pointed and clapped. And generally took up too much space.
“Yowza!” exclaimed Gabby. “Do you think they’ll cancel school?”
Our driver leaned on his horn until the crowd parted and a way opened for us. He slowly piloted the bus to the curb and we unloaded.
Principal Gorton stood out front again playing traffic cop. She looked as if she was fending off mosquitoes. Whenever a car packed with sightseers tried to sneak through, she popped a silver whistle into her mouth and gave a sharp blast. She did not look like a happy camper.
“What a circus!” Gasser hooted as we tramped up the front walk between high banks of snow. He turned to take in the crowd. “Man, if we could charge admission, we’d make a mint.”
We all cracked up.
All except Slingshot.
“Hold on now,” he said. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “That’s not abad idea. Not a bad idea at all.”
“What’s not?” Stump laughed. “Getting steamrolled by a crazed mob?”
“I’m seeing a hot chocolate stand,” said Slingshot. “All these people? In this cold? We’d make a fortune!”
We were quiet for a minute as Slingshot’s idea sank in.
“In Florida we used to set up lemonade stands,” ventured Orlando. “I’ve never heard of a hot chocolate stand.”
“Same idea,” said Slingshot. “Different weather.”
“You know, it might just work,” said Gabby. “Seriously. You think Principal Gorton would go for it?”
I glanced over at our intrepid leader. She made a series of hand gestures that looked like kung fu while fiercely tooting her whistle.
I didn’t think she’d go for anything at the moment. Except maybe a big bottle of aspirin.
“Let’s talk to Mr. Swickle,” suggested Stump.“C’mon! What’ve we got to lose?”
We funneled through the snow canyon into school. Without bothering to take off our coats, we surrounded Mr. Swickle and explained our idea.
“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!” Stump pleaded, hopping from foot to foot. He always bounced when he was excited. “When else will we ever have a crowd like this on our doorstep?!”
Mr. Swickle folded his arms across his chest. He was not convinced. Then I had an idea. “It could be a fund-raiser for charity,” I ventured. “You know, a cool cause the whole school can support? Remember
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