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How doesthis fit into your dumb documentary?"
"It's very important," said Mark righteously. "This illustrates what movie
stars go through not to be recognized."
"No, it doesn't," countered Boots. "It illustrates who snuck Jordie Jones
into the dance, just like it illustrates who played poker with Jordie Jones,
and who snuck out after lights-out with five boxes of explosives to booby-trap
Jordie Jones. And if The Fish sees it, you can expand your masterpiece to
include us carrying our luggage to the train station, because we'll all be
expelled!"
Wilbur shook his head. "If we get expelled, the only thing he'll film is the
inside of his nose, because that's where that stupid camera will be!"
"Don't worry," Mark assured them. "I'll cut out anything that could get you
guys in trouble."
"Okay," said Bruno. "We should be fashionably late by now. Let's go. "
As they crossed the highway, Calvin pulled out his cologne and gave himself
another dousing. This had the boys coughing and covering their eyes. Jordie
dissolved into a sneezing fit.
"Hey, Calvin!" choked Bruno. "Give everybody a break, eh!"
Calvin was outraged. "Chicks dig guys who wear aftershave."
Jordie blew his nose. "Not if they can't get within fifty feet of them
without passing out," he sniffled.
"Besides," gagged Boots, "you don't even shave."
"No problem!" Calvin enthused. "I rubbed my face with sandpaper so it'dsting
a little!"
As they melted into the swarm of boys at the entrance to Miss Scrimmage's
gym, Larry had nothing but praise for Jordie Jones.
"I can't believe it!" he crowed. "You don't just look different. You've
changed into somebody else! Even the way you walk!"
Jordie smiled. "It's a trick I picked up in acting class each character you
portray has his own posture and way of moving. The son of royalty would be
stiff and formal."
Bruno was impressed. "Wow. I didn't know you could act. I thought you were
just a movie star. " He glanced through the sea of bodies into the gym, where
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the music was starting up. "Remember, blow your cover, and you're hamburger."
Jordie nodded intently, and they marched through the door. There sat Miss
Scrimmage, resplendent in a frilly ball gown of pink and silver, the school
colors. She took one look at Boots and recoiled in horror, rocking back and
forth on the hind legs of her chair and almost toppling over. Only Wilbur's
strong arm kept her upright.
"How dare you?" shrilled the Headmistress at Boots. "You thug! You break into
my school, prowl about at night, terrorizing my poor defenseless girls, and
now you expect to come here to socialize? My eyes may be old, young man, but
my nose can still smell a rat!"
Boots studied the floor.
"But Miss Scrimmage," protested Bruno, "Mr. Sturgeon said he could come."
"Mr. Sturgeon?" she blurted without thinking. "What does that old coot know
about discipline?"
"A good deal more than one might expect," came a dry voice behind her.
From the refreshment table appeared Mr. Sturgeon, in his hand a cup of punch,
on his face his coldest fishy expression. This he turned on his hostess. "I
daresay I am exercising a fair amount ofself -discipline right at this
moment."
Miss Scrimmage pointed at Boots. "Why has this hooligan not been properly
punished?" she demanded.
"I conducted an investigation," said the Headmaster darkly, "and concluded
that the blame lay elsewhere. O'Neal is a registered student of Macdonald
Hall. You will accept all my students, or you will accept none of them."
Miss Scrimmage flushed bright red with anger. Mr. Sturgeon had her cornered.
She had to back down, or she would be spoiling the dance for her own students.
She beamed. "Who is this absolutely charming young man?"
She was looking straight at Jordie Jones. Quickly the actor stepped behind
Wilbur.
"Yes, you," the Headmistress persisted. "The handsome boy in the turban. Are
you new to Macdonald Hall?"
Stepping out from cover, Jordie nodded uneasily and managed to look shy. Mr.
Sturgeon regarded him quizzically.
"How lovely," said Miss Scrimmage. "Where are you from?"
Boots' heart sank. The Headmaster knew every one of his students by face and
by name. There was a big difference between bluffing Jordie Jones through one
little dance, and making up crazy stories right in front of Mr. Sturgeon. The
Fish was no dummy, and if he caught them in an outright lie, it would take a
lot more than the magic of Hollywood to save them.
"He's foreign!" Boots exclaimed suddenly. It was the truth. Jordie Jones was
an American citizen, and in Canada, that made him foreign. If they could
somehow get through this withoutactually lying, The Headmaster might go easy.
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"Yes, but from where, specifically?" Miss Scrimmage inquired. "Where is
your home ?" This she said slowly and with a lot of volume, as though Jordie
would not understand English very well.
Boots concentrated on the actor.Come on, Jordie, don't lie, don't make up
some weird country with a bizarre name, don't blow it &
"Altadena," replied Jordie.
No! Boots wanted to scream.That's it! That's the lie! It's all over ! But
then he remembered his California geography. The towns around Los Angeles had
all different types of names, from Spanish to Arabic. Maybe Altadena was the
suburb Jordie was from. Cautiously, Boots risked a glance at Mr. Sturgeon. The
Headmaster was still intent on Jordie.
"Altadena," the Headmistress mused. "I don't believe I'm familiar with& "
"On the one side is the desert," said Jordie, beginning to warm to his role.
"On the other, the sea."
Boots smiled to himself. California, all right.
"How wonderful," declared Miss Scrimmage. She rose, holding up her hands for
quiet. The music died. "Girls," she announced, "we have a very special [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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