Free Pickle by Kim Baker Page B

“Do you know anything about the pranks that have been going on around school?”
    â€œWhy would I know anything about the pranks?” I said. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls. Dirty, lying cotton balls. My eye twitched.
    â€œPrincipal Lebonsky has a theory that what has been happening would take more than one student, so one of the groups at school may be responsible,” Ms. Ruiz said.
    â€œOh.”
    â€œI told her that I didn’t think it was likely, but she said that the clubs have school access after classes. She’s asked the faculty advisors to question all club leaders.”
    â€œOther kids could come into the school when it’s open for extracurricular enrichment,” I said.
    â€œExactly!” Ms. Ruiz said. “I have you pickle makers and girls’ basketball. I told her that I’m sure that none of my students would do anything to jeopardize themselves. You’ve got enough on your plate with the Pioneer Fair; no time for mischief!” She laughed and shook her head.
    I went straight home after the meeting and emailed the club to tell them what Ms. Ruiz said about the fair and the pranks. Well, I emailed their agent accounts. Bean had chosen to go by Agent Super, and Oliver was Agent 008. I sent the message in Italian. I told them that we needed to make a new plan for pickles for the fair, but nobody responded. I forwarded a couple of pickle recipes.
    All these guys had to do was say whether the recipes looked good or not. I checked my email four more times, but they’d ignored the recipes. I slammed the computer closed and turned on the TV.

 
    24
    Trick #3
    After I checked my email a couple more times, I caught the second half of Escape from Zombie High. It wasn’t as funny as I hoped, but the final scene when the star football player got cornered in the gym by the mob of angry zombie cheerleaders gave me an idea for my initiation. The gym filled with fog before the attack, and I thought about how cool and creepy it would be to have our gym floor like that, full of swirling, misty clouds. Like zombie cheerleaders were going to grab you when you tried to climb the rope. That’s what one of the guys in the movie did. He tried to climb the rope but he only got about five feet before the zombie girls pulled him down. I don’t know what he was thinking. Nobody can climb those ropes very fast, and it’s just hanging from a hook on the ceiling. It’s not like he could escape. Still, it gave me an idea.
    â€œI know what I want to do for my solo prank, but I need a little help,” I said. The pickle makers were eating lunch together in the quietest corner of the cafeteria.
    â€œHelp? No help. Solo mission,” Frank said. I leaned across the table.
    â€œI’ve already proven that I can do it alone, haven’t I? I’m pretty sure I could just count the balls as my initiation. But, I’ll be a good sport and just say that was a freebie.”
    â€œNoted,” Frank said. “What do you have in mind?”
    â€œLet’s fog up the gym. All of the classes go, so it wouldn’t just be Ms. Ruiz’s class again. It would be like a zombie movie.”
    â€œSpooky, I like it. But how?” Bean said.
    â€œWell, do you guys sell fog machines in the store?”
    â€œYeah, but they’re, like, fifty dollars. We can’t borrow one either because the boxes are all shrink-wrapped. How much club money do we have left?” I checked the envelope in my backpack.

    â€œTwenty-one bucks. And thirty-eight cents,” I said. “It’s not enough.”
    â€œMaybe not for a fog machine, but there’s always dry ice,” Frank said. Oliver didn’t know what it was, so Frank explained how dry ice was really frozen carbon dioxide that makes misty fog when you put it in water. Perfect. I’d seen a sign for dry ice blocks at the bodega on the corner. Oliver had to go to a rehearsal