Go Jump in the Pool (12 page)

“Mildred …”

The bench in the Headmaster’s office was especially uncomfortable that morning. Bruno and Boots sat, hands nervously folded in their laps, waiting for Mr. Sturgeon to pronounce sentence upon them. It did not raise their hopes to see that he wore a bandage around his head and appeared to be in an irritable mood.

“I don’t suppose it occurred to either of you that what you were doing is against the law.”

Bruno and Boots remained silent.

“Did you take any money from passing motorists?”

“No sir,” said Bruno. “Your car was the first one to come along.”

“Well, thank goodness for that, anyway,” said the Headmaster. “You did not actually break the law then. But you certainly intended to. Specifically, receiving money under false pretenses constitutes fraud. And that is very serious.”

Boots’s stomach growled noisily. He had been too nervous to eat breakfast.

Mr. Sturgeon paused to allow his words to sink in, and then continued. “This time you have not only got yourselves into serious trouble, but you have also corrupted two boys whose previous records were spotless. I wish to know what part Hackenschleimer and Talbot played in this escapade.”

“It was all my fault, sir,” said Bruno steadily. “I got Chris to make the signs and Wilbur to get the sawhorses, and at the last minute I talked them into working the tollbooth. I’m completely to blame, sir.”

“And me,” Boots added quickly.

Mr. Sturgeon nodded and began to tell Bruno and Boots what he had been telling himself ever since the swim meet. “This entire fund-raising campaign was sparked by the lowest of motives — jealousy. You have kept it going by feeding this jealousy, and I blame myself for not putting a stop to it sooner. Your aim is not so much to have a pool because you want one as to have a pool because they have one. That attitude is childish and unworthy of you.

“And now, your punishment. At seven each morning you will report to the kitchen to assist the staff in any duties they may find for you. During the noon hour you will do the same. At four in the afternoon you will pick up every scrap of litter on the campus until five, when you will report to the kitchen once more to assist in the serving of dinner. You will eat all your meals in the kitchen. After dinner, from seven-thirty to nine, you are assigned to wash dishes without the usual payment. Since it is autumn, you will spend your weekends raking leaves. After nine in the evenings you are confined to your room where you will do your homework and prepare the five thousand word essay which I am assigning. The subject — fraud.”

The Headmaster stopped for breath. “In case this schedule leaves you any time for privileges, I hereby revoke them all. This punishment will apply until further notice. The fund-raising campaign, of course, is over. If you are caught raising money, you will be expelled. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then,” said Mr. Sturgeon, glancing at his wristwatch, “you are dismissed. I believe you are on duty in the kitchen now.”

* * *

As Bruno and Boots slaved over the serving of breakfast, they were too upset to appreciate the humour of the comments from their classmates in the dining room.

“Hey, Walton, there’s a fly in my porridge!”

“Boots, this orange juice tastes like dishwater!”

“Hurry up with those pancakes, Walton!”

“Oh, bus-boy …”

“Wash your hands, Bruno. There’s going to be an inspection by the Board of Health.”

“What did you guys do to deserve this?”

Bruno and Boots did not have time to talk to each other until they were finally allowed to sit down to breakfast in the kitchen.

“I wish,” said Bruno savagely, “that he had just expelled us. That would have been kinder.”

“He was right, though,” reflected Boots.

“I never said he wasn’t right,” snapped Bruno. “The Fish is always right around here, even when he’s wrong. I just don’t like being punished.”

“I hope he’s not too hard on Chris and Wilbur,” said Boots.

“Ha! I’ll bet he’s warming up the rack right now!”

Boots shook his head. “Why is it that you never learn from punishment, Bruno?”

Bruno laughed. “Maybe it’s because I’m completely incorrigible.”

* * *

When Mrs. Sturgeon drove home from town through a gloomy, cold rain that afternoon, she was appalled to see Bruno and Boots, equipped with pointed sticks and garbage bags, cleaning litter off the front lawn of the campus. She stopped the car and rolled down the window.

“Bruno, Melvin, what are you doing out in such weather?”

“Mr. Sturgeon’s orders, Ma’am,” said Bruno. “We’re being punished.”

“But surely he didn’t mean on a day like today!” she protested.

“He said every day,” said Bruno. “Probably for the rest of the year.”

Boots sneezed violently.

“My goodness, you’re getting sick! Go to your room at once and each of you take a hot bath.”

“Oh, we haven’t got time,” explained Bruno. “In a little while we have to report for kitchen duty. But don’t worry. After dinner the hot steam from the dishes we have to wash will warm us up.”

“Well, you go and change into dry clothing first,” she ordered. “I’ll explain it to Mr. Sturgeon.” She drove off, reflecting that she had a great deal to say to her husband.

She entered the house, wiped her wet feet and removed her raincoat. “William, in all the years I’ve known you, you have never been so cruel!”

Mr. Sturgeon looked up from his newspaper in surprise. “What have I done?”

“As if you don’t know!” she exclaimed angrily. “Bruno Walton and Melvin O’Neal are out on that campus in the pouring rain picking up garbage!”

“They are being punished, Mildred,” the Headmaster told her. “It is an administrative matter and no concern of yours.”

“I’ll bet it would be a concern to those boys’ parents if they could see them now,” she snapped. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

“What would you have me do about that tollbooth?” he asked in irritation. “Reward them for their ingenuity? They have to be punished for their own good.”

“You’re not interested in ‘their own good,’” she accused him. “You’re just mad because you had such a bad experience last night. Bruno and Melvin didn’t hit you over the head. That awful girl did. They didn’t ask Miss Scrimmage to shoot at you. And they didn’t create the traffic jam.
You
did. Why didn’t you remove the tollbooth when you found it? And they certainly didn’t make the jack-in-the-box fall on your head. If you had any sense, you’d realize that those boys have been raising all that money for you. They adore you. At least, they used to.”

“An administrative matter,” repeated Mr. Sturgeon firmly. He had never seen his wife so angry. “When is dinner?”

“I’m not finished yet, William. I have something else to say to you. You’re angry with those poor boys for being jealous of York Academy when you yourself are green with envy over Tom Hartley’s pool. As for dinner, I haven’t yet decided if you’re getting any!”

* * *

“‘Fraud is a very bad thing,’” read Bruno aloud. “One, two, three, four, five, six. Six words. Only four thousand nine hundred and ninety-four to go.”

“Maybe you could add a few extra ‘verys,’” suggested Boots. “Only do it quietly, please. I have my own essay to write.”

Bruno sighed. “This is impossible. I can’t write with dishpan hands.”

Boots yawned in agreement. “What a day! Especially when you dropped all those dishes.”

“At least we didn’t have to wash those,” said Bruno. “Of course, we did have to pick up the pieces.” He grinned. “I wonder if we looked pathetic enough for Mrs. Sturgeon this afternoon. I’d be able to take this punishment if I thought The Fish was suffering too.”

“Oh, she’ll go to bat for us,” Boots said, “but he’ll give her the old fish-eye. This time even dynamite won’t move him. He’s really mad.”

“Hey,” said Bruno, “what do you call a guy who does fraud? A fraudist?”

“An idiot,” Boots replied.

Smash!

A large rock came crashing through the window and landed on the floor midway between the two boys. Before they could react. Cathy Burton burst in through the window, shrieking unintelligibly. Oblivious to the shattered glass, Diane followed. Other screaming girls poured in. Through what was left of the window, a bewildered Bruno and Boots could see the entire population of Miss Scrimmage’s Finishing School for Young Ladies swarming in the direction of Dormitory 3.

“What’s going on?” cried Bruno across the room to Boots. The boys were squashed up against opposite walls as their room continued to fill up. Boots’s reply was a helpless shrug. Cathy went on gesturing and screaming, but Bruno could not make out what she was trying to tell him.

The door was thrown open and there stood the Housemaster, staring in horror. “What the …?” He was knocked down and trampled as the howling overflow from 306 surged on into the hall. Still they came through the window.

Boots heard someone yelling “Help!” and realized with some chagrin that it was himself.

Pete Anderson threw his door open.

“Hey!”

He was hurled back onto his bed as some of the girls poured into his room and began milling around, knocking things over.

Other doors began to open and boys ran into the corridor to join the hubbub.

“What in the world …?”

“It’s an invasion!”

“Girls?”

“Girls!”

“They’ve killed Mr. Fudge!”

“It’s Walton’s fault! He let them in!”

“I’ve got my hand caught in the door!”

“Then take it out!”

“Ouch!”

“Something must have happened!”

Something had indeed happened. Cathy Burton, her voice almost gone, collapsed into a chair and thrust a piece of paper at Bruno.

Bruno stared at it. It was a letter.

Dear Miss Burton
,

The D-Lishus Baking Powder Company takes great pleasure in informing you that your recipe for ‘The Original Triple-Decker Scrim-Apple Upside-Down Cake’ has won first prize in the D-Lishus Bake-Off. I must admit that I was dubious about certain ingredients, notably the horseradish, but the result was a most unusual and delicious cake. Enclosed is a cheque for $6,000. Congratulations
.

Mavis Cook

General Supervisor, Bake-Off

“I don’t believe it!” Bruno roared delightedly over the din. “Boots! Boots!”

“Here I am,” came a muffled voice.

“Where?”

“Under the bed,” replied Boots. “And I’m not coming out!”

“Cathy’s won some money!” Bruno exclaimed. “Six thousand dollars!”

Boots scooted out from under his bed. “How? For what?”

“We were baking a cake,” Cathy croaked. “Miss Scrimmage was entertaining her sister and we had to bake, so we dumped in the horseradish just to liven up the dessert. Then Diane dropped it on the floor and it became upside-down.” She laughed, still hysterical. “They loved it! It was great! So we entered it in the contest. And we won! I’ve endorsed the cheque over to you! Now Boots doesn’t have to go to York Academy!”

“Well …” began Boots dubiously.

“Oh no!” said Bruno suddenly. “Boots, if The Fish sees this cheque, we’re on our way home! We’re not allowed to raise any more money!”

“We don’t want it!” cried Boots suddenly. “Go buy yourself a helicopter or something!”

“Shhh! Pipe down!” ordered Bruno. “Of course we want it. We’ll just have to get it to the bank without telling The Fish.”

“Speak of the devil,” whispered Cathy, pointing to the door.

In the doorway, Mr. Sturgeon was kneeling over the prostrate body of Mr. Fudge, the Housemaster.

“See you,” said Cathy. She grabbed Diane by the arm and they made an ungraceful exit through the broken window. By this time all the girls had fled the building and were stampeding across the lawn towards their own school.

* * *

“What do you
mean
your girls never left their beds?” demanded Mr. Sturgeon. “Miss Scrimmage, I saw them with my own eyes! … Yes, I was wearing my glasses at the time! They wrecked one of my dormitories! I have a Housemaster with a broken nose and so many bruises that he had to be taken to the hospital! And a student with three broken fingers! … They are not delicate young ladies! They are vandals! … Yes, vandals! They threw a boulder through a window! … No, I don’t know why! They’re like the plague! There’s no reason for it! … Yes, of course I have proof! The damage! What they did to …”

He stared at the receiver. “Mildred, the barracuda hung up on me!”

“Now, dear,” soothed his wife. “I suspect you’ve hung up on her often enough.”

The Headmaster crashed his fist into his palm. “Walton and O’Neal are at the bottom of this!” he said firmly.

“How could they be? You said the rock and the broken glass were on the inside of the room. That means the window was broken from the outside. Those poor boys aren’t always to blame, you know.”

Mr. Sturgeon nodded wearily. “I suppose you’re right.”

* * *

“The Original Triple-Decker Scrim-Apple Upside-Down Cake!” exclaimed Bruno gleefully.

“With horseradish,” added Boots. “We should have known they’d come up with something like that. Six thousand dollars! How are we going to get it to the bank without The Fish finding out about it?”

“Same way we do everything we’re not supposed to,” said Bruno. “We sneak out under cover of darkness.”

“Bruno, people who visit banks at two o’clock in the morning are usually burglars,” Boots reminded him.

“Oh,” said Bruno. “That does raise a little problem, doesn’t it? Well, we’ll sit on the cheque for a while until I figure out a way. We sure can’t go until we ditch this punishment. No time.” He leaned back with a great sigh of contentment. “We have over fifteen thousand dollars.”

“It’s a long way from fifty thousand,” said Boots mournfully.

* * *

Three days after the riot, Mr. Sturgeon was in his office when he received a telephone call from Mr. Hartley of York Academy.

“Hello there, Hartley. To what do I owe the honour of this call? … I beg your pardon? … Well, I’m sorry if we happen to be poor competition for your swim team, but my boys cannot accept your kind offer to use your pool. They are asleep at that hour …”