Beware the Fisj by Gordon Korman Read Free Book Online Page A

“We’ve got nothing to lose that we won’t lose in the long run anyway.”
    The other boys at the table murmured their agreement.
    “Good,” said Bruno. “We’ve got until Friday to spread the word. I want every kid in this school to know what’s expected of him. Tell them we’re aiming for sixty cans per person — more if they can manage it.” He grinned with satisfaction. “Don’t worry. We’ll pull it off.”
    The boys began to file out en route to their afternoon classes.
    * * *
    Sergeant Harold P. Featherstone, Junior, was watching television. As a matter of fact, except for a twenty minute lunch break at Willy’s Hamburger Emporium and half an hour for dinner at the diner across the road, he had been watching television all day. Disappointingly, there had been no fish broadcast since 8:45 that morning.
    He lay down on the bed with his voice recorder to make his report. “Investigation Fish,” he began, “Field Report Number One — Sergeant Harold P. Featherstone, Special Division, reporting.”
    He recorded the details of the 8:45 incident, and then wracked his brain for something else to say.
    “I am convinced,” he continued, unsuccessfully suppressing a yawn, “that something very significant may be taking place here. The Fish — uh — as it were — may be …” His voice trailed off and he fell asleep, snoring gently. The recorder continued to hum, capturing his peaceful slumber.
    Next door in room 14, a tall, cadaverous man crouched with his ear pressed against the wall, trying in vain to hear what was being said in Featherstone’s room.
    * * *
    “Bruno, Boots — you guys must be crazy to come here after what happened the last two times!” exclaimed Diane Grant as the two Macdonald Hall boys entered through the window.
    “Is the old girl all right?” asked Bruno.
    “Oh, she’s fine,” said Cathy. “Don’t worry about Miss Scrimmage. She’s immortal. Mad, too. When she called to complain, The Fish didn’t believe her.”
    “So
that’s
how we got away with it! Anyway, here’s your philodendron.” Boots placed a potted plant on the desk.
    Bruno laughed. “At first Elmer was reluctant to part with one of his little friends. But we told him either to fork it over or come here and personally explain to you why you couldn’t have it. After that he donated it with an open heart. You really made an impression on him.”
    “We try,” said Cathy modestly. “What’s happening with the world records?”
    “Plenty,” replied Boots. “Bruno’s got the whole school in an uproar over it.”
    “Terrific,” exclaimed Cathy. “I love uproars. Can we help?”
    “Yes,” said Bruno, “as a matter of fact, you can. We’re going for the world’s largest pop-can pyramid record and we need some cans.”
    “How many?” asked Diane.
    “Oh, no more than thirty-two thousand,” said Bruno casually.
    “Sure,” retorted Cathy sarcastically. “No problem. Tomorrow I’ll just stroll out and pick up thirty-two thousand pop cans. Simplicity itself.”
    “Listen,” insisted Bruno, exasperated, “just tell the girls to get all the pop cans they can find.”
    “As it happens, you’ve picked a good time. The whole school is going to the Ontario Art Gallery on Saturday — or so Miss Scrimmage thinks.”
    “Cathy!” Diane protested. “We can’t —”
    “We can and we will,” was Cathy’s reply. “And Miss Scrimmage can’t expel us because we’re taking the whole school along. There’s strength in numbers.”
    Boots cast Bruno a strange look. He had heard that philosophy before.
    “Right,” said Bruno. “You girls should be able to pick up a lot of cans in a city the size of Toronto. Keep them for us and we’ll get them on Saturday night.”
    “So we won’t be seeing you for a while,” said Diane with a mixture of regret and hope.
    “Right,” agreed Boots. “Goodnight.” As he swung a leg over the sill, his shoe came off and fell to the ground with a