The Wizzle War by Gordon Korman Read Free Book Online Page A

he isn’t here for dinner again. Pass the meat, please.”
    “William, your attitude is deplorable,” scolded Mrs. Sturgeon. “In no time at all I’m sure Mr. Wizzle will fit nicely into Macdonald Hall.”
    “Mr. Wizzle will fit nicely into the furnace,” replied her husband evenly.
    “I didn’t hear that, William!”
    * * *
    Bruno patted the stack of newspapers lovingly. “Ten minutes to ten. At five after, we start distributing.”
    Boots was having second thoughts. “You know, some of these articles are pretty rough on Mr. Wizzle. Like this one, where it says his ideas serve no useful purpose here. Or this pros and cons chart where it says ‘Nil’ under the pros. He’s going to be really mad!”
    “Well,” said Bruno hopefully, “maybe he’ll just go away without being too insulted.”
    There was a sharp rap on the door.
    “Who is it?” called Bruno.
    “Dormitory inspection,” called the voice of Walter C. Wizzle.
    Boots grabbed the stack of papers and began to run around the room in panic.
    “Out the window!” whispered Bruno. Aloud he called, “Coming, Mr. Wizzle, sir.”
    Boots threw open the window and dumped
The Macdonald Hall Free Press
into the bushes. He slammed the window shut just as Bruno opened the door to admit Mr. Wizzle, followed by a grim-looking Mr. Sturgeon.
    Notebook poised, Mr. Wizzle looked around the room with a critical eye. “Oh, yes, Walton and O’Neal, isn’t it?”
    “Y–yessir,” stammered Boots.
    “Well … not yet ready for bed — two demerits. Hmmm … very untidy room, disgracefully so — three demerits. Beds not properly made — one more demerit. There is no food in here, is there?”
    “No, sir,” said Bruno, “no food.”
    “Good.” Mr. Wizzle nodded. “There’s one student in this dormitory who had his entire desk filled to the brim with groceries. I had to confiscate three cartons.”
    “You took away Wilbur’s food?” blurted Boots.
    The Headmaster turned away to cough.
    Mr. Wizzle consulted his notebook. “Six demerits each. Well, O’Neal, that gives you eleven. Two hundred lines —
I will obey fully all the rules of Macdonald Hall
. Walton, two hundred and fifty from you. On my desk. Friday morning.” He gave the room a last glance. “And clean this room up. That’s all.” He turned and left. The Headmaster followed, tossing overhis shoulder a glance that neither Bruno nor Boots could decipher.
    “Walter C. Wizzle!” muttered Bruno as the door shut behind Mr. Sturgeon. “Four hundred and fifty lines between the two of us!”
    “We never had any surprise inspections before,” said Boots bitterly. “We were too lenient in those articles!” His jaw dropped.
“The papers!”
    The two boys rushed to the window and heaved it open. An awful sight met their eyes. A brisk wind had come up and all three hundred and fifty copies of
The Macdonald Hall Free Press
were strewn over the campus.
    “Bruno, look!” cried Boots in horror.
    Bruno laughed diabolically. “There’s our distribution. Everybody’s bound to get a copy, including Wizzle. Let’s not bother writing those lines. By the time Friday rolls around, Wizzle will be packed and gone!”
    * * *
    “Look,” said Diane reasonably, “if you hadn’t tried to get out of running the three laps, you wouldn’t have got all those others.”
    “It’s war, that’s what it is!” wailed Cathy. “We’ll show her!”
    “Cathy, if I were you, I’d think twice about starting a war with a Marine.”
    With effort, Cathy sat up in her bed. “Think about what you’re saying! Peabody may be a professional monster, but we’re Miss Scrimmage’s Finishing School for Young Ladies! Think of all the stuff we’ve done! The riot squad is afraid tocome back here! We’re
somebody
!”
    “If we try to go against Peabody,” warned Diane, “we’re somebody dead.”
    “She’s got the power,” conceded Cathy, “but we’ve got the numbers. She’s outnumbered three hundred to one.