Macdonald Hall #7: The Joke's on us

Niagara Falls

Edward O'Neal was shooting baskets alone in the gym when his shot was suddenly blocked by a high-reaching hand.

His older brother Boots grabbed the ball out of the air and rolled it into the equipment room. "I've been looking all over for you."

"I wasn't 'all over,'" said Edward. "I was here."

"The word is you're here a lot," said Boots. His eyes narrowed. "When you're not sneaking out in the middle of the night. Ever do any work?"

"What's it to you?"

Boots frowned. "Look, Edward. Personally, I don't care if you finish up the year with a zero percent average. But Mom has already promised me a very un-merry Christmas if you flunk out."

"I'm not going to flunk!" blustered Edward. "Not even math?"

The younger boy was startled. "How do you know about math?"

Boots shrugged expansively. "Mom is like the CIA. She's got all our weaknesses on file."

Edward shuffled uncomfortably. "Okay, I've had a few problems with math. But I'm taking care of them. Don't worry, I won't ruin your Christmas."

"Good," Boots nodded. "Because if I have a bad holiday, yours is going to be worse."

***

Miss Scrimmage sat at the head table in the pink and silver dining room, picking daintily at her lunch. She always made a point of eating with her students. That way she could coach them on those subtle matters of etiquette — the proper way to hold a pickle fork or to dab at one's mouth with a linen napkin. Some of the parents called her old-fashioned, but that didn't bother Miss Scrimmage. One day, she knew, her young ladies might be called upon to eat a piece of corn on the cob in the presence of kings, presidents, and prime ministers. Her girls would be ready.

"Catherine, Diane!" She stopped them at the door. "Why on earth are you carrying such enormous parcels?"

Cathy shifted her weight under the jam-packed green garbage bag of food she was hefting. "Just a little snack to get me through the afternoon."

"We're always starving by dinnertime," put in Diane, struggling with her own supplies. "But why so much?" Miss Scrimmage peeked inside Cathy's parcel. It contained cold cuts, a

slab of lasagna, Salisbury steak, potato chips, an assortment of cookies and cupcakes, and almost half of a lemon meringue pie. "These foods are so high in fat! Haven't you been paying attention in Miss Smedley's health class?"

"We're doing square dancing in phys ed," said Cathy airily. "It burns a zillion calories." And she headed off with her burden.

Miss Scrimmage watched as Cathy and Diane were followed by a long procession. Each of the girls was just as loaded down with leftovers as Cathy. She frowned. Afternoon snacks. How odd!

*** "Wow, look at him eat!" breathed Ruth Sidwell in awe.

A crowd of girls were packed into the equipment room off the gym watching Rex devour mountains of leftovers from lunch.

"We're probably next," said Diane nervously.

Wilma Dorf looked perplexed. "I don't get it. Isn't he going to get fat if we keep feeding him like this?"

Cathy looked at her pityingly. "That's the whole point, Wilma. We're going to take this lean, mean killing machine and turn him into a chubby, slow, happy, paunchy pooch. This Tyrannosaurus's life isgoing to be suppertime, naptime, suppertime, nap-time. Got it?"