Macdonald Hall #7: The Joke's on us

Shot at Dawn

Larry got the word first: Bruno and Boots were to present themselves at the Headmaster's office at eight the next morning.

"Great," said Bruno, who shunned early hours whenever he could. "We're being shot at dawn."

"I don't even care anymore," said Boots in a small voice. "At this point, it's the waiting that's killing me."

A small group had gathered in room 306 after lights-out. Larry, Wilbur, Sidney, and Pete sat in the dark with Bruno and Boots. A flashlight illuminated a Xeroxed piece of paper. It was the latest betting line from the dining hall:

Suspended: 5 to 1 Expelled: Even Money Let off the Hook: 46 to 1

"Forty-six to one!" mourned Bruno. "Doesn't anybody think we have a chance?" "I do," piped up Pete.

"Really?" asked Boots.

Pete hung his head. "Well — no, not really. I just wanted to make you guys feel better." "The thing that kills me," said Boots, "is that we don't even know who to be mad at. Is my

brother being nice, or is he covering up the fact that he's the real Phantom? Is Mark guilty, or is he just playing super-journalist? And surely Cathy and Diane wouldn't let us take the fall if they're the Phantom." He threw up his arms in despair. "But they have no way of knowing what's happening to us!"

"Then there's Marylou Beakman's boyfriend," Larry took up the list. "And whoever was wearing the shirt with the crest on it."

Sidney set his jaw. "One thing we can do for you guys is continue the investigation. And when I get my hands on the real Phantom — "

"What are you going to do?" challenged Wilbur. "Bleed on him?" Nobody laughed.

"I'm going to get this guy," said Bruno determinedly, "if it takes me the rest of my life!"

Larry folded his arms in front of him. "I don't care how sick the Fish is; I'm really mad at him for this. He didn't have to expel you."

The word hung in the air in front of them.

Pete broke the silence, his voice a whisper. "It's going to be pretty lousy at Macdonald Hall without you guys around."

Larry nodded sadly. "Without Bruno and Boots, Macdonald Hall is just another third-rate school."

"No way!" cried Bruno emotionally, leaping to his feet. "The Hall is still the best school in the country! I don't care what happens! Nobody's going to get away with putting down my school!"

"It's not going to be your school anymore, Bruno," Boots reminded him gently.

Bruno sat down gloomily on the edge of his bed, propping his chin up with his palms. "It'll always be sort of my school," he said, his voice hoarse.

***

In the last two days there had been a lot of talk about expulsion — about how it goes on a permanent record, about how it makes finding a new school difficult, about whose parents were going to kill whom. Stuck alone in their room, Bruno and Boots had discussed all the angles of getting expelled — except one. It was the worst thing by far about leaving Macdonald Hall, but the subject was buried like a terrible family secret.

Both of them thought of it. Each could almost sense it in the back of the other's mind. But nothing was said until the two boys stood on the steps of the Faculty Building, bleary-eyed and petrified, steeling themselves for the meeting with Mr. Sturgeon that could be their last.