Free John Fitzgerald GB 04 Great Bra by Great Brain At the Academy Page A

how? He mustn’t show any surprise. He had to convince the priests that he alone had peeled all the potatoes on the other four mornings and at the same time get out of peeling them this morning. His great brain came to his rescue.
    “First I have to hypnotize myself,” he said.
    Father Rodriguez stared at him. “Hypnotize yourself?” he asked,
    “Bless my soul,” Father Petrie said, “you look as if you mean it, Thomas.”
    Tom put his index fingers to his temples and shut his eyes. He began rocking back and forth.
    “I am the fastest potato peeler in the world,” he chanted softly, “I am the fastest potato peeler in the world.”
    He kept saying this over and over until his great brain
     
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    gave him the solution to his problem. He dropped his arms and opened his eyes.
    “I must get a paring knife now,” he said.
    To get the knife he had to walk around the sack of potatoes. He made certain it was obvious to both priests that he stubbed his toe on the sack of potatoes. He fell to the floor bracing his fall with his hands. He lay there quietly until the two priests turned him over on his back. Then he blinked his eyes several times.
    “What am I doing lying on the floor?” he asked. Then he took hold of his left wrist with his right hand and bit his lip as if in pain. “My wrist hurts. It feels as if I sprained it.”
    “Bless my soul,” Father Petrie said. “Self-hypnosis in a mere boy. I just can’t believe it, although you did tell me that Thomas had what he called a great brain.”
    Both priests helped Tom to his feet and Father Rodriguez examined the wrist.
    “I don’t see any swelling,” Father Rodriguez said.
    “Maybe it is just a twisted muscle,” Tom said. “I twisted my ankle one time and it didn’t swell up. But I couldn’t step on it for hours.” Tom wasn’t lying about his ankle. It really had happened.
    “Come with me to the dispensary,” the superintendent said.
    Tom followed the priest up to the second floor. Father Rodriguez turned on the light in the dispensary. The room contained two beds, a table, and a cabinet holding gauze, bandages, scissors, cans of salves, and other medical supplies.
    The superintendent nodded toward a washbasin in the corner. “Let cold water run on your wrist,” he said.
     
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    Tom did as he was told while the priest opened the cabinet and removed a roll of gauze and a pair of scissors.
    “Dry your wrist now with a towel,” he said. “I’ll bandage it loosely. And if it starts to swell or your fingers start feeling numb, you come see me.”
    Tom pretended it was painful as he opened and shut his fingers. “I doubt if I could hold a potato in my left hand let alone peel it now,” he said.
    “I have no intention of forcing you to peel potatoes with a sprained wrist,” Father Rodriguez said. “You can return to bed as soon as I bandage it. Father Petrie and I will take care of the potatoes.”
    A few minutes later Tom entered the dormitory. It was too good a joke to wait until the six o’clock bell, so he awakened Jerry, Phil, and Tony and told them what had happened.
    “And right now,” he said as he finished, “Father Rodriguez and Father Petrie are peeling spuds in the kitchen.”
    They all had a good laugh and then went back to bed.
    Father Rodriguez conducted the first class that morning as usual. Five minutes before the period ended he made a surprise announcement.
    “You will all now hold out your right hands so that I may inspect them,” he said.
    Tom knew he was caught as he watched the superintendent inspect the fingers of each boy’s right hand. The inspection ended just as Father O’Malley entered the classroom to take over as teacher for the rest of the day.
    “The following boys,” Father Rodriguez said, “will accompany me to my office: Thomas Fitzgerald, Jeremiah
     
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    Moran, Phillip Martin and Anthony Colacci.”
    They followed the priest down to the superintendent’s office on the ground Hoor.