Joke's on Us

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Chapter 1: Over the Hill

  Chapter 2: A No-Brainer

  Chapter 3: The Voodoo Curse

  Chapter 4: Tyrannosaurus Rex

  Chapter 5: The Prime Suspects

  Chapter 6: Niagara Falls

  Chapter 7: Marylou Beakman Hates Me

  Chapter 8: Traffic Jam

  Chapter 9: Diddly-Squat

  Chapter 10: Counting Shirts

  Chapter 11: The Romance of Swamp Germs

  Chapter 12: Living on the Edge

  Chapter 13: The Smoking Gun

  Chapter 14: Dear Nasty Uncooperative Old Goat

  Chapter 15: Shot at Dawn

  Chapter 16: One Lousy Little Broken Wire

  Chapter 17: The Discus Thrower

  Chapter 18: The Shadow of the Phantom

  Chapter 19: Watch Out for the Lasers

  Chapter 20: Earsplitting, Teeth-Rattling

  Chapter 21: Simple Surgery

  About the Author

  The Macdonald Hall Series

  This Can’t Be Happening at Macdonald Hall!

  Go Jump in the Pool

  Beware The Fish!

  The Wizzle War

  The Zucchini Warriors

  Lights, Camera, Disaster!

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Over the Hill

  “Take my word for it, Bruno — you’re not going to like him.”

  The speaker was Boots O’Neal. He and Bruno Walton, his longtime roommate and friend, were hanging movie posters on the walls of room 306 of Macdonald Hall.

  Bruno spat out a thumbtack. “Of course I’ll like him. You’re just saying that because he’s your brother.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are,” Bruno insisted. “I mean, look at me. I hate my sister, and everybody else says she’s the sweetest kid on earth. It’s human nature.”

  “You don’t know Edward,” Boots said flatly.

  “Sure I do!”

  “You’ve only met him twice. And he was on his best behaviour because it was vacation and my folks were around. The kid is crazy!”

  “He’s totally normal,” Bruno countered. He took a step back to admire the new decor. “I think this one’s a little crooked.”

  “It’s fine,” Boots retorted. “Dormitory 3 is crooked.”

  Bruno slipped into the shoe he’d been using as a hammer. He breathed deeply. “I envy your brother — young, new, first year at Macdonald Hall — he’s got his whole life ahead of him.”

  Boots had to laugh. “And we’re grandfathers, I suppose?”

  “We have so much to teach him,” Bruno raved on. “We can show him the ropes.”

  “Oh, sure,” said Boots sarcastically. “He should really listen to us. We’ve been in trouble more than any two guys in the history of the Hall. We’ve washed more dishes, picked up more garbage, raked more leaves and shovelled more snow. And we definitely hold the record for being chewed out by The Fish.”

  “The Fish,” said Bruno, smiling at the mere thought of William R. Sturgeon, the Headmaster. “Your brother hasn’t even met The Fish yet! Were we ever that young?”

  “Yes, we were,” growled Boots. “It was a better life.”

  Bruno looked annoyed. “Your problem, Melvin, is that you’re a crab. As soon as new student orientation is over, Edward will drop by here, the three of us will get along great and all your whining and complaining will be for nothing.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when the door flew open, and there stood Edward O’Neal. He looked very much like a younger version of Boots — blond, blue-eyed, with a sleek, athletic build.

  “Eddie!” Bruno greeted the newcomer. “How’s it going? Remember me? Bruno!” He bounded over and dealt Boots’s brother a hearty slap on the back.

  Edward’s blue eyes crossed and rolled back in his head. Without a sound, he crumpled to the floor and lay there, unmoving.

  Bruno stared, bug-eyed. “What did I do? What happened? I didn’t hit him that hard! Call Nurse Hildegarde! Dial 9-1-1! …”

  “Bruno —” Boots began patiently.

  “We’ve got to keep him warm till the ambulance comes!” Bruno howled hysterically. “Quick, get a blanket!”

  From the floor, Edward reached up, pulled the top sheet from Boots’s bed and handed it to Bruno.

  “Thanks!” gasped Bruno, covering up the victim. He froze. “Hey, wait a minute —”

  Edward rose to his feet, dusting himself off.

  Boots grimaced. “Come on, Edward. Why do you have to pull that weird stuff on the first day?”

  Edward regarded the dumbfounded Bruno. “I’m waiting for the fun to start. The laugh-a-minute thrills. The topsy-turvy roller coaster of excitement.”

  Bruno found his voice at last. “What?”

  “For half my life, every phone call, every letter home, was full of ‘Bruno says,’ and ‘Bruno did’ and how great and how cool it was to be at Macdonald Hall with Bruno,” sneered Edward. “Well, here I am, on the spot with the Lord of Coolness himself. And I’ve got to tell you — I’m not impressed.” And he turned on his heel and left.

  The stunned silence that followed was broken by Boots’s voice. “I told you you weren’t going to like him.”

  * * *

  Bruno and Boots crouched in the bushes outside their window, scouting the darkened campus.

  “All clear,” whispered Bruno.

  Keeping low to the ground, they snaked along the edge of Macdonald Hall property, scampered across the road and scaled the wrought-iron fence that surrounded Miss Scrimmage’s Finishing School for Young Ladies.

  Bruno picked up a handful of pebbles and tossed them at a second-storey window. No response.

  Boots frowned. “Didn’t Cathy and Diane know we’d be dropping by tonight?”

  “Give it a few minutes,” Bruno shrugged. “Maybe there’s a teacher around, or something.”

  They retreated to the shadows of Miss Scrimmage’s nearby apple orchard and sat down to watch the window and wait.

  “You know,” said Bruno, “I’ve been thinking about Eddie.”

  Boots made a face. “Why? I don’t, if I can possibly avoid it. And by the way, it’s ‘Edward.’”

  Bruno nodded. “Yeah. He’s a real jerk, and all that, but I understand him. This is his first time away from home. He’s probably really scared. And he wants everybody to like him.”

  “Well, he made a great start today,” Boots grunted. “I thought you were going to rip his lungs out.”

  “He’s not so bad,” chuckled Bruno. “He’ll settle down. We’ll introduce him to all the guys. Maybe we’ll even bring him over here one night.” He glanced at his watch. “Hey, what’s keeping the girls?”

  Boots stood up. “Maybe we should come back tomorrow.”

  “Nothing doing. The window’s open. We’ll wait for them inside.” He began to stride toward the building.

  Boots followed, listing the reasons why this was a bad idea. “Maybe their room got changed … maybe they haven’t arrived at school yet … maybe Miss Scrimmage is up there with her shotgun —”

  But Bruno was already shinnying up the drainpipe. Breathing a silent prayer, Boots started up after him.

  Bruno swung a leg over the sill and let himself into the room, helping Boots in behind him.

  “Well, they’ve definitely moved in,” said Boots, peering into a closet that was full of clothing. Bruno snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. They knew we were coming, and they’re raiding the kitchen to put up a big spread. Let’s go surprise them.”

  “Aw, c’mon,” moaned Boots. “It’s one thing to sneak in here; it’s another to go wandering around Scrimmage’s in the midd
le of the night! Let’s wait.”

  But once again, he ended up following Bruno’s lead. They navigated the dim, carpeted halls, slid down the bannister of the main staircase and stepped into the ornate dining room. On tiptoe, they made their way among the round tables and paused at the door to the kitchen. There was the sound of muffled laughter and quiet singing.

  “See!” said Bruno triumphantly. “I told you they were expecting us. It’s a party!”

  He booted open the swinging door and prepared to bound inside. He froze.

  About twenty girls were assembled, eating sandwiches, drinking pop and singing along with a lone visitor, who was strumming on a ukulele.

  Bruno stared. The guest of honour was Edward O’Neal.

  Wham! The big door swung back, catching him full in the face. He staggered away, giving Boots a clear view of the festivities as the door swung the other way.

  “Edward?”

  The two boys ran into the kitchen. Boots’s little brother was flanked by Cathy Burton on his right and Diane Grant on his left. On the counter in front of him sat an enormous slab of triple-chocolate cake.

  “Hey, dudes,” Cathy greeted. “Meet Edward. He’s new at the Hall.”

  “These are the two guys we were telling you about,” Diane informed Edward.

  Edward regarded them critically. “Come to think of it, I saw them over there in Dormitory 3. They were crocheting doilies.”

  This got a big laugh from the girls.

  “Oh, shut up, Edward!” snapped Boots. “Look, girls, he’s my kid brother, okay?”

  At this news, Edward did another one of his phoney faints. He rolled off his chair to the floor, dropping his ukulele as he fell. This got a standing ovation from the girls.

  “Edward …” said Boots warningly.

  Bruno managed a brave smile. “Come on, Boots, back off. All the kid needs is a little patience and understanding.”

  Edward was on his feet again. “Why don’t you two old men go home and take a nap? Face it — you’re over the hill. It’s time for a new generation.”

  It took Boots, Cathy and Diane to remove Bruno’s hands from around Edward’s throat.

  “Let go of me, Boots!” Bruno ordered. “And prepare to become an only child!”

  “Pick on someone your own size, Bruno Walton!” cried Diane in outrage.

  Bruno strained forward. “Let me at him!”

  Edward made a big show of yawning, then checked his watch. “Well, I guess I’d better call it a night.”

  “You’re not going to bed until after the autopsy!” Bruno roared.

  “Don’t be such a bully!” snapped Cathy.

  “Goodnight, all,” Edward called. “Thanks for your hospitality.” He took three casual steps, and then broke into a sprint across the dining room.

  “Come back here!” Bruno tore free and launched himself in pursuit of the fleeing Edward. Boots and the girls rushed after them.

  Footsteps and heavy breathing echoed through the halls, but there were no shouts. No one wanted to wake up Miss Scrimmage and her staff.

  Bruno and Boots had been in Miss Scrimmage’s school many times and knew the layout by heart. But Edward was lost. Around and around the main floor he went, at the head of the chase. Finally, he spied a back staircase and made a dash for it.

  Diane gasped. “That’s Miss Scrimmage’s suite!” But everyone who heard her already knew that. And the boys were out of earshot, halfway up the stairs.

  A diabolical grin appeared on Cathy’s face. “This is going to be our best year yet! Who says education can’t be exciting?”

  The boys reached the second floor and hit the hall running. They were at top speed when a door opened and Miss Scrimmage stepped out into their path.

  Edward hit the brakes and stopped dead. Bruno slammed into Edward from behind, and Boots nearly tripped over the two of them. The three froze there, hanging onto each other for support. In his misery, Boots caught sight of Cathy and Diane crouched on the top step. Diane looked petrified; Cathy winked.

  “Oh, my goodness,” the Headmistress mused, adjusting her hairnet and tightening the belt on her robe. “I can’t see a thing without my glasses. Now, where did I put my Cream of Wheat?” She began to feel her way around a small kitchen alcove.

  Bruno drew in a shaky breath, about to sneeze. Like lightning, a finger — Edward’s — appeared under his nose to stifle the impulse. Boots’s sigh of relief shook all three of them.

  “Ah, here it is,” Miss Scrimmage announced. She started back toward her bedroom. But the spoon slipped off the tray, and landed on the carpet with a soft thud. She bent down and felt around with her free hand. Instead of the spoon, her fingers closed upon the toe of Edward’s sneaker.

  “A-choo!” Bruno’s sneeze came out at last.

  “A-a-a-augh!” shrieked Miss Scrimmage, tossing her tray in the air.

  Boots grabbed Bruno with one hand and Edward with the other and headed for the stairs.

  Cathy whispered, “We’ll cover for you!” She and Diane ran to their Headmistress, who was screaming and picking Cream of Wheat out of her curlers.

  “Oh, Miss Scrimmage! Oh, Miss Scrimmage! You were brilliant!”

  The Headmistress stopped shrieking and looked up. “I–I–I was?”

  Cathy nodded earnestly. “The way you threw oatmeal at those burglars and scared them away — you saved us! You’re a hero!”

  “It was Cream of Wheat, dear,” said Miss Scrimmage, resettling herself like a hen on a nest. “And I have some information for you: those were no ordinary burglars. Those were marauders from Macdonald Hall.”

  “No!” Cathy and Diane pretended disbelief.

  “Yes, indeed,” the Headmistress confirmed. “And you may believe that Mr. Sturgeon will be hearing from me first thing in the morning!”

  * * *

  All the way back to Macdonald Hall, Bruno was seething. “So we’re old men, eh? Over the hill? Well, tonight two old men saved your butt from Miss Scrimmage!”

  Edward was outraged. “Saved my butt? I’m not the one who sneezed in her face!”

  “But you are the idiot who blundered right into her private hallway!” Bruno accused. “If she’d had her shotgun, we’d all be part of the wall!”

  “Stay away from Scrimmage’s!” Boots hissed.

  Edward raised big innocent eyes. “Like you do?”

  “Look,” said Bruno. “This is the way it is: out of respect for the O’Neal family, I’ve decided to let you live. But keep out of my face. And don’t you ever call me ‘old man’ again!”

  “Yes, O Aged One,” deadpanned Edward, and scampered off to Dormitory 1.

  Boots sighed miserably. “So sue me. You can’t choose your relatives.”

  Chapter 2

  A No-Brainer

  William R. Sturgeon, Headmaster of Macdonald Hall, limped down the stairs of his cottage, leaning on a wooden cane. Settling himself at the kitchen table, he peered between the ruffled curtains and harumphed at the cloudy fall morning.

  “Barely Labour Day and it’s already freezing.”

  His wife set a cup of coffee in front of him. “Good morning to you, too, William,” she said brightly.

  “I should have retired last year,” Mr. Sturgeon went on, as though no one had spoken. “We could be in Florida now, lying on the beach. We’ve earned it.”

  Mrs. Sturgeon laughed. “You loathe the beach, William. You always get sand all over your tie.”

  “Very funny,” grumbled her husband. “But the fact remains that there’s nothing for me at Macdonald Hall anymore.”

  His wife looked distressed. “How can you say such a thing? This is your school!”

  “It would run perfectly well without me,” he insisted. “Everything that happens here is automatic. For example, I ran into Elmer Drimsdale yesterday and automatically congratulated him on winning the Summer Science Fair. I had no proof that he even entered!”

  “But of course he did,” Mrs. Sturgeon put in s
oothingly. “And of course he won first prize.”

  “That’s my point exactly,” said the Headmaster. “I knew that. I know everything. I know Peter Anderson struggled in summer school; I know Sidney Rampulsky broke at least one bone during vacation; I know Walton and O’Neal have already paid a visit to their friends over at Miss Scrimmage’s school. There’s no challenge, Mildred. My life has become, as they say, a ‘no-brainer.’” He sighed. “And then there’s this medical condition.”

  His wife cracked an egg hard enough to pulverize it. “It’s an ingrown toenail, William. Your ‘medical condition’ is not exactly life threatening.”

  Mr. Sturgeon squared his shoulders stubbornly. “That’s easy to say when it’s on someone else’s foot. It happens to be extremely painful.”

  “You’re such a baby,” she accused. “Why don’t you just call up the doctor and schedule the surgery?”

  Her husband set his jaw and said nothing.

  “And how dare you reduce our boys to guesses and accusations?” his wife went on. “You have no proof that Bruno and Melvin were off campus last night.”

  The Headmaster smiled mirthlessly. “I don’t have any proof that the sun will rise tomorrow, but I expect to see it. I’m surprised we haven’t heard from Miss Scrimmage to complain about the intruders.”

  “Now, that’s just silly —”

  Ding-dong.

  Mrs. Sturgeon hurried to the door. “Don’t get up, dear. I’ll see who it is.”

  “I know who it is,” he grumbled.

  There were voices in the hall, and then his wife reappeared with Miss Scrimmage in tow. “Look, William. We have company.”

  “Miss Scrimmage — what a surprise. How may I help you?”

  Miss Scrimmage removed her white gloves and feathered hat, sat down at the table and accepted a cup of coffee. “Mr. Sturgeon,” she began, “alas, this is not entirely a social call.”

  “Ah,” said Mr. Sturgeon noncommittally.

  “Indeed. Last night, three of your students broke into my school and terrorized my poor defenceless girls. Fortunately, I was able to subdue them with a bowl of Cream of Wheat.”

  Faint indications of a smile tugged at the Headmaster’s lips, but overall he remained stern. “How resourceful of you.”

  “And so,” Miss Scrimmage went on, “I must insist that you identify the guilty parties and mete out the appropriate punishment.”